by Holly Wentz
Technically, they looked human but they were … off. The scene behind her horrifically reminded her of a scene from Nightmare on Elm Street 5, where the nun gets locked in with the crazed inmates. There is a moment when they realize she’s there and everything goes quiet. That was the exact moment playing out in the rear window, Aliya’s back is to the receding vehicle and all those maniacs are standing there quiet, just now realizing she is there and she is real.
“You can’t leave her!” she screams and lunges over Jack for the door, desperate to get out, to help, to do something—anything!
“No.” Jack grabs on to her and wraps his arms around to pin hers to her side as Kyle reaches over to lock the door.
“Are you crazy?” he shouts.
“Are you?” she yells back, trying to kick free, “We can’t just drive away. They’ll rape and kill her! You can see it in their eyes!” she says, breaking down in tears.
“You can’t die here,” Erech says quietly from the front.
His grip on the steering wheel shows the effort he is exerting to control the vehicle at this speed, and he looks like he’s going to be sick.
“What about rape? Can you not be raped here, either?” she asks. He presses his mouth into a thin line and does not respond, but the look on his face is answer enough.
“You bastards, all of you!” she yells and begins to struggle against Jack’s hold. “So we’re just going to leave her to be raped over and over? Forget that! Let me go, Jack!” she screeches just as Erech stops the truck sharply and throws it into park.
“You’re right.” He jumps out, turning to speak to them from the open door. “You are right. She thinks you’re worth the sacrifice, but I don’t. I could care less about any of you.”
Marcy begins to lean towards the front seat as Jack loosens his grip, and Kyle reaches for his door handle.
“But just so I don’t get completely condemned later,” he smirks and winks, “stay in the truck, keep all doors locked, and don’t open for anyone except me or her…. Or La’sha—you can open for the dick-hound too.”
“Do not call me that.” a voice suddenly says. And La’sha appears right behind him, two other men at his side. “Where is Aliya?”
Erech doesn’t answer; he’s staring at the two newcomers in shock, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open.
“Where is Aliya?” La’sha turns to ask Marcy, his head cocked to the side in a very doglike fashion. If the situation wasn’t so dire, she might have laughed at that; instead, she’s too terrified for Aliya.
Scrambling over into the front seat she cries, “She’s back there! She’s going to be raped and killed or pretend killed but raped! Raped! Help her, help her!”
Suddenly a roar comes up and there is blast of light and pressure, and when her eyes readjust one of the newcomers are gone. The other man is watching something in the distant and nods, seeming pleased by what he sees. He smiles and turns to them.
He is tall and well built with broad shoulders. He has bronze-colored skin that is almost like dark gold in the shadows under his chin, and his eyes are a stunning green. His hair is long and curling, a mix of black and blond. He is wearing a simple linen shirt with long sleeves and broken in leather pants, a pair of worn leather boots on his feet. When her eyes travel back up to his face she realizes that he has been waiting for her to finish her perusal of him. Mortified, she looks down at the ground.
“Do not be embarrassed, dear one. It is natural for a human to learn how another one looks; it is how you physically identify each other. No cause for embarrassment.” And he smiles at each of them and says, “I am Ar’aad. My companion Ezi and I have been called on by the hellhound, La’sha, to accompany you to the Chasm on the far side of the Burning City.”
He bows and then looks at them, apparently expecting them to know what he was talking about, which none of them do.
Marcy smiles and gives a quiet hello then starts to head back the way they came, but Jack takes hold of her.
“Whoever they are, one has gone to help her. Let’s wait here. We are outmatched and would be no good in that fight.”
“Fine.” She shrugs him off and climbs up the bumper to the hood of the SUV and stands on it, looking back towards the Warehouses. She’s amazed Erech doesn’t tell her off for doing this but when he does speak, it is obvious his thoughts are elsewhere.
“Did you say your companion is Ezi?” he seems shocked as Ar’aad nods beatifically and he turns to La’sha. “THE Ezi?” he demands to the hellhound, who nods sheepishly and won’t meet the nephilim in the eye.
“Holy hell, dude!” Erech exclaims, amused, “She is going to kill you.” he singsongs at La’sha who growls in response.
“I thought you couldn’t kill here?” Kyle, the sarcastic ass, pipes up from his place, leaning against the truck watching the interchange.
Ar’aad laughs at this. “You are right, strong one, you cannot. But I do not believe that was what the Earthborn meant.”
“Earthborn?” Jack asks as he leans on his elbows, keeping vigil of the road behind them.
“Earthborn is what the angels call all nephilim,” Erech replies.
Slowly, Marcy turns from her watch pose and sinks down to sit on the hood by Jack.
“You are an angel?” she asks Ar’aad quietly, although she already knows the answer in her heart. He fills the atmosphere around him with a warm calm. Now that she is focusing on him and not Aliya, she can feel his effect. Her panic has lessened and the muscles of her shoulders has relaxed. Looking at Jack, she can see the strain from around his eyes has lifted and when he gives her a small smile, it is genuine.
“Yes. As I said, we are here to help guide you. On the far side of the Second Gate is the Chasm. Ezi and I will be able to return you to the Physical Realm from there.” Ar’aad looks up to the front of the vehicle and smiles just as the other angel, Ezi, appears with Aliya.
Marcy rushes to her, relieved to find her in relatively good condition. There is a long cut down her right arm and there is dirt in her hair and on the knees of her jeans, but otherwise she seems whole, although utterly stunned. Ezi had been holding her about the waist and she stumbles slightly when he quickly releases her and moves to stand on the far side of a bemused-looking Ar’aad.
“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Marcy gushes as she takes hold of the bewildered Aliya and helps to dust off her clothes while chattering in nervous relief. “We were going to come back for you, weren’t we, guys? No way were we going to leave you there. What were you thinking? Really?”
“Yes, Aliya, what were you thinking?” Ezi’s voice is lower and rougher than Ar’aad’s. Where Ar’aad has a smooth musical tone of voice, Ezi’s sounds like oil on gravel, rich and decadent but not smooth.
Marcy straightens from where she was dusting off Aliya’s knees to find her looking shamefaced away from Ezi’s fierce glare. Angry at this being for causing her friend’s obvious upset, Marcy takes up her defense.
“She was thinking of how she could save us! That’s what she was thinking. She was sacrificing herself for our safety, because that’s how incredible she is. She’s a hero, so just back off!”
Jack slips his arm around Marcy’s waist and also takes Aliya’s hand, “She is that, our hero.” And he smiles gently at her before looking over to Kyle who straightens off the truck.
“So I guess we’re walking, right?” he says and begins heading towards the distant Path. Turning around walking backwards he calls out, “C’mon, folks, let’s get this show on the road, because the sooner we start the faster we’re home.”
“Excellent. I like a good leader, do you not?” Ar’aad sets out with Erech and quickly joins Kyle. Ezi stares hard at Aliya for a few heartbeats longer, then he also turns about and begins walking.
“You okay?” Marcy asks her as they begin to slowly follow. Aliya has wrapped an arm around Jack’s waist and with his arm over her shoulder she leans heavily into the young man.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I j
ust wasn’t expecting him.”
“You mean the angels?” Jack says. “I know, it’s kind of wild.”
He looks meaningfully at Marcy but she doesn’t see him because she is too busy trying to push down the feelings of jealousy that have reared up. The beautiful Aliya has wrapped herself around Jack like a touch-starved kola. And her normally standoffish Jack has not only allowed it but has draped his arm around her, pulling her closer. She starts when Jack says her name, embarrassed to find she had been scowling hard at Aliya’s hand resting on his hip.
“What? Oh yeah, the angels. Yeah, yeah I guess we’ve had some things wrong. Right, Jack?”
She looks up to find him gazing at her questioningly. Then he gives a knowing smile and unwraps Aliya’s arm from his waist and kisses the nephilim’s hand before pulling the two women close to each other. Falling in step on Marcy’s other side, he says, “Something tells me there is more to this story than just angels arriving to the rescue. I think I’ll help La’sha bring up the rear and let you girls talk.”
He gives her a sweet kiss on the cheek and touches her nose with his index finger before dropping back to join the hellhound, who gives him a grunt and a growl in greeting.
They walk quietly for a time, stepping onto the Path that leads out into the flat dust field Wasteland. Their little group fans out along the road with Kyle, Ar’aad, and Erech leading the way, walking along laughing and joking with each other as if old friends. Ezi stalks irately behind the laughing group, occasionally flashing angry glaces over his shoulder. Behind them, Jack and La’sha bring up the rear in quiet serenity. After another heated look from Ezi, Marcy becomes too curious to hold her patience.
“So, you going to tell me what is going on between you and that angel?” she asks softly.
Aliya sighs dejectedly before launching into the tale of her and Ezi.
As the sun begins to slip below the horizon, Marcy listens as Aliya brings her to the current state of this tragic love story. Just as she finishes with the setting sun glistening on the tears standing in her eyes, the three in the lead step off the road. Ar’aad calls out that they will camp here for the night.
“We will not walk in the Dark.” he says and begins to create a fire pit, five sleeping pads appearing as a circle around the fire. “We will keep watch so you can rest.”
“Will we be safe?” Marcy asks as she crawls in the olive-green pad, which is surprisingly soft and smells of vanilla.
“Sleep well, little one. You will be perfectly safe.” Ar’aad smiles.
As the others climb into their own sleeping pads, Erech sighs in satisfaction. Looking up towards Ar’aad and Ezi who take up guard positions outside the firelight, he asks, “Can I keep the pad?”
Ezi looks down at him in annoyance, “No.”
Erech harrumphs and turns over to give them his back. Marcy giggles a little and looks over to Jack who lies near her, Kyle on his other side. She blows him a kiss which he catches in his hand and tucks into his shirt.
A gleam just over his shoulder, outside the firelight makes her start for a moment, before realizing it is the light reflecting in La’sha’s eyes. Suddenly, he begins to change and warp in shape until he takes the form of a large and menacing wolf. She gasps and sits up but feels a pressure to her ankle. Looking down, she sees Aliya’s hand squeezing her leg, she is smiling softly and shaking her head.
“La’sha is a hellhound—that is his natural form. He only takes human form to be able to speak and … interact better with us.”
She looks uncomfortable and twists slightly to gaze towards the road. When Marcy follows her line of sight, she finds Ezi standing at the road side glaring at them; it makes her wince and give Aliya an apologetic smile.
“I know this may seem really difficult, but maybe you should talk to him” she says quietly. “I mean, from what you’ve told me, you still love him.”
“Yes, but look at him—I think he hates me.” she whispers miserably. She sits on her pad, her knees pulled to her chest and her chin resting on them. Marcy reaches out and pats her hands that are clasped in front of her legs then gives her a little shove.
Leaning forward she whispers, “Go on. You two need closure, whatever it may be.” And she looks towards Ezi who stands with his back to them several yards away, “I mean you and he, it has been thousands of years—thousands! Yet here you are, and you both remember each other enough to have real emotion about it.” She looks back amazed, “That is truly incredible!”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Aliya sighs and straightens. Marcy means well but she is mortal and can’t feel the waves of anger pulsing off Ezi. When he first appeared she had been too stunned to notice it. She had been terrified, facing the Deviants as they closed in on her and had begun to prepare herself to fight. She tried to think of moves of defense that she had been taught over the long years but she had never been a real warrior type. As she got down into a fighter’s crouch, they lunged.
She tried to hold her own in the melee, but it had been chaos. It felt like there were hands everywhere grabbing at her. She felt a sharp pain along her arm and was pushed down. Hitting the ground on her back, she quickly flipped over on to her knees before any of them were able to get on top of her. It had been all howling and maniac screams and laughter, so much pandemonium she could not even think enough to be truly panicked. Then suddenly they were gone.
Instantly, they were just gone, and a strong arm had wrapped around her waist and lifted her up ground. She was pulled back against a sturdy broad chest and she smelled a scent that had haunted her dreams. For a short moment she relaxed and leaned against that warm memory. Oh, how she had missed him! Her heart seemed to swell and she feared it would no longer be able to fit in her chest. But then he was letting her go, swiftly moving as far from her as he could, his warmth and scent going with him and her heart reached out in desperation. As Marcy was fussing about her, dusting off the dirt and exclaiming over the cut on her arm, she just stood there, drinking in the site of him, her Ezi.
He was even more handsome than she remembered. His bronze skin glowed in the orange late afternoon light and his polished black hair looked silky soft. His strong jaw … was tight with a tick and his beautiful light blue eyes were so light they appeared white and slit in anger. When he spoke, she both rejoiced at hearing him once again and winced as he brought out her bad decision, disgust apparent in his tone.
Even now as he stood watch at their little makeshift campsite, a darker figure against the dark skyline, she could feel the animosity coming off him. But Marcy was right. There was still a strong emotional bond between them, even though it has been many millennia since they last saw each other. Even if he does truly hate her, he has not forgotten her, and whatever exist between them needs some kind of closure. Steeling herself against what could be the annihilation of her hopes and dreams, she got up from the pad and quietly approached him.
“I don’t hate you,” Ezi says quietly, his back still to the fire.
She stops two arms length from him, “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” she says, fearing the lump beginning to grow in her throat.
Tipping his head back in an exasperated manner he sighs, “You make me feel melancholy, little one, melancholy and anger.”
He turns to face her as she struggles to keep down a sob.
“When I think of you, those are the first two emotions I feel and it has given me a heaviness I cannot lighten.” Ezi’s blunt statement is made in a slightly desperate tone, and she forces a response through her closed throat.
“I am so sorry, Ezi. If there was a way for me to release this harm from you I would.” She despises the tears that are beginning to fall, blurring her vision. She cannot make out his features when he says,
“I do not want to be released. I want you to join me. I hate your past, I cannot lie. I hate the carnal knowledge you have shared with the two males by the fire and the countless down the centuries. But it is a possessive hate. They used the vessel
that carried what is mine. I can leave that past buried, but I will not fall for you, you must rise to me. And I am … impatient for that day.”
He sighs looking at the ground, his hands hooked on his hips. Raising his eyes he says, “I don’t hate you. You infuriate me, you confound me, you leave me breathless and choking on rage. But I do not hate you. I love you, otherwise you would not spin my heart and my passions about as you do. If ever one asks how I can be assured of my love to you, all I need do is describe the torrent of emotional up, down, and middle that hit me all at once each time I think of you.”
By the time he has ended this little speech, she is crying in earnest. Unable to hold his gaze, she covers her face with her hands, sobbing quietly. She feels his warmth as he envelopes her in his arms. Resting his chin on her head he whispers hoarsely, “Hush now, my night blossom, hush. Always so sensitive.”
His chest vibrates with a quiet chuckle against her face.
He holds her steady as she cries until she is left hiccupping with scratchy eyes and a slight headache. He slowly unwraps his arms from her and holds her out at arm’s length.
Dipping his head, he asks “Better now?” She gives a shaky nod in response. He chucks her chin gently and blows out a breath with a shake of his head.
Turning her around he kisses the back of her hair and says, “Go on and get some sleep. We still have to cross the Wilderness and deal with the Burning City.” He says the last with a strange emphasis.
Tucking her chin to look back, she asks, “Have you been there before?”
His bitter smile is seen in the firelight, “Let us say I have taken a special interest to this plane and have been inclined to spend most of my time here.” He raises his eyebrows in a slight challenge for her to question his motives; instead she can’t keep from smiling.