Divine Hope

by Jo O'Neil

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Unwelcome Reunion

  Honorary angelic status didn’t bless me with the gift to be omnipresence, so while it had been informative to stay and spy on the Harts, I now had the problem of finding Hope.

  I was counting on the same light which had led me to her in the MI6 building hanging around to escort me once again, but it was neither present inside nor outside, where the only light I could see was coming from the sun.

  I sat and mulled over my options before it struck me; it was a week day afternoon so there was a high probability Hope would be at Collins, Harper, and Jones Solicitors. Within seconds of my ‘eureka’ moment, I set my orbing navigation system to the familiar destination, and arrived in record speed time.

  Orbing into the reception area was novel since A.M. had taken me directly to Harry’s office the day before. I noted the light from the elegant chandelier’s glittering on the marble surfaces, and I appreciated the calm atmosphere created by the reception staff who presented the all important first impressions I was normally too busy to observe. Floating through, I had every intention of heading straight to Hope’s desk. But the temptation to stop at my office first was too tantalising, especially so as Molly was absent from her station so wouldn’t be startled by my ghostly visit.

  I paused outside my office door and deactivated my orb, taking care to stay invisible so as not to spook any passersby who may recognise me and wonder why I was at work when I was essentially a pile of ash sitting in an ostentatious gold urn on my parents’ mantelpiece. I caressed the familiar handle I normally violently attacked in my haste, and I lovingly ran my free hand along the grain of the door I often slammed shut behind me in anything but a tender manner. I checked no one was looking in my direction, and then for the first time ever I carefully opened my door. The almost inaudibly sound of the lock gently clicking as it released its catch brought goose bumps to my angelic form as I quivered in excitement of being back in the place I felt most valued.

  The cream luxurious carpet was the first to greet me. I slipped off my satin pumps so I could feel the softness under foot and the pile between my toes. I merrily danced over to my drinks cabinet and poured myself a small whisky with only the tiniest feeling of guilt which I almost completely disregarded as I reminded myself it was several hours past noon, and I deserved it after my harrowing day of encountering a ghost, a dark elf, the brothers grim, and Hope Harper.

  As I walked around the spacious room, whisky glass in one hand, the other hand busily touching everything with a need to feel it actually existed beyond my imagination, I felt at home. The warmth this concept filled me with was suddenly violently shaken out of me when for the first time I realised how utterly career focused I had become. Dismissing this sad notion with a quick shudder of my head, I checked all my personal effects, which mercifully were all present and correct (I would have fallen to pieces if I had turned up and found Jackie Andrews, who had always been after my office, had taken up residence), before I sat down in my ergonomically correct chair. Placing my legs, which I crossed, up on to the corner of my desk, I supped my whisky. I picked up the anti-stress ball, microwavable wheat bag, a stash of which Molly kept in her upper desk draw. Laced with extra lavender, Molly would warm one up for me if she sensed the overall vibe of my office needed the calming properties of the essential oil she thought could cure all.

  With my eyes glossing over as my breath relaxed and I became more meditative, I started to mull over how strange my life had turned out; me an Angelic Spy! Now, who would have dreamt spy of any kind was possible as a career choice for me, let alone the angelic sort. This led me to think I really ought to finish the whisky I was indulgently savouring and find my charge, Hope Harper, when I was brought back to full consciousness by a purposeful cough.

  My eyes darted upwards to the direction the interruption had come from. When I failed to locate the source, the noise sounded again. My receptive ears could tell I had almost pinpointed the origin, so aided by all of my senses, my eyes acting as a sonar machine scanned a small radius. And there, for the third time (Mr. Hart senior and the dark elf being one and two) in less than twenty-four hours I was confronted by the strangest sight; a very attractive creature stood the other side of my desk.

  Her softly pointed chin only just reached the top of the gleaming wooden surface which reflected her sparkling green eyes. Her very pale complexion was emphasised by her pure white flowing hair which travelled down her back, well below her waist. Her ears, albeit tiny, were proportionality big for her elfin frame, and ended in fierce pointed tips. The white eagle wings I had grown so accustomed to seeing on the Archangels blessed this being in miniature, adding to her look of innocence which did not marry with the bow and sachet of arrows carried over her shoulder.

  On closer inspection, although her outfit was very fetching, it was geared towards battle. It had a four tiered, silver armoured shoulder design which continued along to the collar into an attractive and yet practical pattern around the neck, and if I was not mistaken down the back. Edged with gold the silver armour merged with a breastplate, not unlike the colour of my own magenta cloak, that plummeted at the neckline. The striking red concealed her arms to just above elbow level where opera gloves in the same colour and material continued. It wasn’t until she moved towards my side of the desk that I saw she had a kilt very like the one A.M. wore, except it was in the same material and stylish magenta as her upper garment. This striking look was completed by very high, over the knee black boots.

  ‘Serena Olivia Unity Lewis, I am Ophelia, a light elf,’ she said before gracefully half curtsying to me. ‘Archangel Michael has sent me to you with the counsel and mediation leaflets from administration which Archangel Raguel promised you.’

  Ophelia’s hands, which had only moments before been empty, suddenly held the long awaited leaflet version of the scrolls I had been given by Archangel Raguel. The leaflets magically left Ophelia, glided over to my non-dominate hand that still held the anti-stress ball, repetitively nudged my hand until I dropped the ball, at which point the bewitched fliers settled in my now empty left hand.

  ‘Thank you, Ophelia,’ I said as I cautiously reached to place the stack of leaflets on my desk next to my legs which were still comfortably resting there. Thankfully, the pamphlets didn’t seem to mind this new position as they remained motionless. ‘Archangel Michael did say he would arrange delivery for me. Can I get you a drink?’ I asked, holding up my own to indicate I meant something stronger than cranberry juice.

  ‘No, but thank you all the same. I am here to assist you in any way I can. The name God has chosen for me translates to mean “help” so it is in my nature to aid and support you.’

  ‘Thank you, Ophelia,’ I repeated. With the MI6 meeting still fresh in my mind I said, ‘What can you tell me about dark elves?’

  ‘The dark elves are my cousins. Regardless of our blood ties, we do not communicate for it is near impossible for the light of our kind to understand the dark, and I would say the same is true for the dark to comprehend the light.

  ‘There was a dark elf here in this building attempting to curse Archangel Michael’s work, but Archangel Michael’s might is legendry and too formidable to be affected by the power of Odile, the dark elf.

  ‘The same dark elf was present today; Odile came out of the painting with the older man, and then she followed the three younger dark dwellers.’

  ‘How do you know Odile was at MI6 today, Ophelia?’ I asked with a slightly urgent tone.

  ‘I was sent there by Archangel Michael to help you and give you the leaflets. It was not practical to do so until the men had left, but when I saw Odile I reconsidered and thought it was safer to wait until now,’ Ophelia obligingly answered. ‘But I did manage to take back the pamphlet Odile stole from you,’ Ophelia said as she produced my Big Issue, and then she added, possibly due to the horrified look on my face, ‘Do not fear for she did not see you there,
Serena. Your invisibility privilege shielded you.’

  Reassured, I asked far more calmly, ‘What was Odile doing at MI6?’

  ‘Dark deeds for she knows no better. Her kind has forgotten the love and mercy of God. My prayer is that one day Odile will find God again and return her dark hair and wings to the Devil in exchange for God’s Divine Light. I wish the same for all the dark elves.’

  ‘That is a good prayer, Ophelia, and one I shall support in my own conversations with God,’ I humbly replied.

  ‘Thank you, Serena. You are most gracious. Is there anything else I can do to serve you?’ Ophelia asked expectantly.

  ‘No, thank you, Ophelia.’

  ‘Then I shall go where I can be of help.’ She inclined her head and bobbed once again into a curtsey.

  I was intrigued so asked, ‘Where is that, Ophelia?’

  ‘My kind observes the dark elves movements so we are prepared to go into battle when the time comes.’

  ‘Into battle! Is a battle likely, Ophelia?’ I asked with utmost surprise and concern.

  ‘Oh, it is not likely, it is certain, and if the prophecy is correct, the time for battle will soon be upon us all.’

  With her last startling words she was gone as suddenly as she had appeared, without any fancy trickery, just as footsteps approached my office.

  As the door handle was pushed downwards, I placed my glass on my desk, shoved the leaflets inside my deep pockets to ensure they weren’t visible to human eyes, and leapt off my chair so as not to be inadvertently sat on if the intruder dared to sit at my desk.

  A smile crossed my lips when I saw the trespasser was Hope Harper, but was soon replaced by a curious look when she stood perfectly still in the doorway, except for her neck which moved to allow her eyes to scan the room.

  Satisfied there was nothing amiss, she was seconds from closing the door when she forcefully pushed it open and locked her wide eyed stare on my whisky glass. She didn’t move a muscle for what seemed like several minutes (I’m sure it was more like seconds), as her intelligence tried to logically explain the appearance of the glass which still had a dram of whisky in. Deciding the glass needed a closer inspection, she let the door go leaving it to close loudly behind her.

  Already on edge from her earlier meeting, she jumped and violently pirouetted around at the noise, grabbing my sapphire as she did so. Realising with great relief, which was evident by her face and body language, it was nothing more sinister than the door closing, she steadied herself and once more stepped towards the glass.

  She used her sense of smell and sight to form clues to help her solve the whisky in the glass mystery, to no avail. Just as her heart rate neared normal once more, my office door opened to reveal Molly standing in the doorway.

  ‘Hope, what are you doing in Serena’s office?’

  ‘I could ask you the same question, Molly,’ Hope replied a little indignantly as Molly’s intrusion had made her jump yet again. Recovering her poise, to my horror Hope perched on my desk, purposely positioning her body to hide the whisky glass.

  ‘I’m Serena’s personal assistant, Hope, in case you had forgotten,’ Molly answered equally indignantly.

  ‘You were Serena’s personal assistant, Molly. Serena is dead, remember?’ Hope reminded Molly less than tactfully.

  ‘Yes, well,’ Molly’s resentment escalated as she retorted, ‘that doesn’t explain what you’re doing here, Hope?’

  ‘Nor you, Molly,’ Hope quickly fired her reply.

  Sensing she wasn’t going to prise the truth from Hope, Molly changed tact and commented, ‘I see you’re wearing Serena’s sapphire, Hope.’

  Hope touched the pendant in a way which was fast becoming habitual as she indirectly answered, in a far more pleasant tone than she had been using to address Molly, ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you more about your dream, Molly; the one where the angel appeared to you?’

  ‘Michael,’ Molly said as she stepped inside allowing my office door to bang shut.

  I added to my mental note of office alterations – change door spring to a soft closing one.

  ‘Yes, Michael. He told you I needed “vital protection” if my memory serves me right?’

  ‘He actually said, “In God’s wisdom, He needs you to forgo your claim on Serena’s amulet and allow Hope to have its vital protection,”’ Molly recited, also in a more agreeable manner.

  ‘Hmm . . . he said something similar to me,’ Hope absent-mindedly informed Molly.

  I think I was as flabbergasted as Molly was to learn A.M. had visited Hope, but thankfully I managed to bite my tongue before I expressed by surprise.

  Molly, however, screeched excitedly, ‘Michael appeared to you in a dream too?’

  ‘Yes, last night. He said, “In God’s wisdom, He needs you to wear Serena’s amulet for its vital protection until the dark forces have been expelled.”’

  ‘What dark forces?’ Molly asked with a mixture of intrigue and nervousness.

  ‘I don’t know. Michael told me to wear Serena’s amulet always. I’m never to take it off,’ Hope’s tone rose as she finished her sentence.

  ‘Curious,’ Molly simply replied with a change of facial expression that suggested her fascination with the unusual was fast outweighing her apprehension.

  ‘I’m glad you think so. I on the other hand am quite concerned, what with “dark forces” chasing after me,’ Hope said with audible anxiety.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry, Hope,’ Molly casually responded.

  In contrast to Molly’s relaxed manner, Hope’s pitch soared as she answered back, ‘That’s easy for you to say, Molly, when you’re not the one the “dark forces” are after.’

  ‘Hope, what you’re forgetting here, or possibly missing completely, is God and His angels are involved. Do you really think the dark side can hurt you with God’s protection?’ Molly reasoned.

  Hope considered what Molly had just said and sincerely replied, ‘You’re right, of course. Still I can’t help but be a little freaked.’

  ‘Or, you could look at it as a blessing,’ Molly stated still using her causal tone.

  ‘“A blessing!”’ Hope nearly shouted. ‘How do you figure that out, Molly?’

  Undeterred at Hope’s sudden lapse of decorum, Molly answered, ‘God sent His angel Michael to not just you, but to me too, all in an effort to keep you safe. Doesn’t that make you feel special? Surely you feel God’s love for you?’

  Hope was not about to confess to Molly that she already felt “special” due to the gift of clairvoyancy God bestowed on her at birth. Firstly, she never told anyone, except her parents and Her Majesty’s law enforcement agencies, and secondly, she was convinced if she did take Molly into her confidence, Molly would rejoice and suggest a séance using an Ouija board to speak with me, or some other similar strange endeavour which Hope had no intention of being party to.

  ‘You’re of course right, Molly, and I thank you for reminding me.’

  ‘That’s perfectly alright, Hope. I will leave you to whatever you were up to.’

  Molly surmised after all Hope had been through with my amulet and a visit from A.M., she probably felt my office was the best place to ponder her situation, so she deliberately closed my office door and left Hope to her thoughts.

  I on the other hand had decided I was tired of all the cloak and dagger performances, and I confess I was starting to feel lonely after A.M.’s departure some hours before. So remembering what A.M. had told me about intention and staying invisible verses being visible, I willed myself to become visible to Hope, figuring if anyone was going to see me it would be a psychic.

  I was standing in the corner diagonally opposite my office door. Hope, who was still sitting on my desk and thus had her back to me, had her head bowed in concentration. Employing Ophelia’s tactic I cleared my throat, and in doing so I nearly frightened my charge to death.

  Hope let out an almighty scream which by rights ought to have alerted the ent
ire Metropolitan Police. Miraculously though, no one came running to her rescue, not even Molly.

  She dived off my desk, grabbed my amulet and whirled around to look directly at me. The sheer horror on her face rendered her unrecognisable.

  After a momentary pause she gasped, ‘YOU! Oh no, not you.’ She sighed and then shaking her head from side to side she said, ‘I refuse to let this happen. If I just tell you to go, when I open my eyes you won’t be here anymore. You’re just a hallucination,’ Hope declared more calmly as she convinced herself she could banish me. As she tightly shut her eyes she screamed, ‘GO,’ before hesitantly opening them again.

  ‘Hope, you’re not hallucinating,’ I said mischievously.

  ‘I must be. This can’t be happening. I must be having some kind of mental breakdown,’ Hope mumbled almost to herself.

  ‘Why would you think that? You speak to ghosts. Why then is it such a surprise you can see and speak with me?’

  ‘How do you know I can speak to spirits?’ Hope demanded with a mix of anxiety and contempt in her voice.

  ‘Ah, well . . .’

  I had done it now. I had made a promise to God and I had gone and broken it. He said “all may be lost” if I uttered a single syllable to another; but did Hope count? Surely not, as the confidence concerned Hope, I reasoned.

  ‘I . . . well, I can’t really divulge my source so can we leave it at fundamentals, please? I know you can speak to spirits. I’m a spirit (well technically I’m not),’ I whispered to myself, ‘so it’s no surprise you can see me, is it?’

  She thought on what I had said and answered most hurtfully, ‘I don’t wish to see you. GO AWAY,’ she cried.

  At a loss what to say to her next, I whipped out my angel cards and looked for the angel of communication. No sooner I had the thought the cards whirled magical and flipped Archangel Gabriel to the front of the pile. His name sparkled in gold letters above the phrase ‘clear communication’ which pulsated like a heartbeat. Fortuitously, Archangel Gabriel had been at my life review. The fact I had already met him made asking him for help considerably less daunting.

  In audio range of Hope, who had turned her back on me again, I said, ‘Archangel Gabriel, please assist me in my skills of communication with Hope Harper.’

  The mention of angels in the same sentence as her name made Hope fly round to face me, just as Archangel Gabriel turned up in a shimmering golden light which matched that of his card.

  ‘Hello, Serena. How lovely to see you again,’ Archangel Gabriel addressed me. With the pleasantries out of the way he advised, ‘You must speak from your heart. There is still much to heal between you and the soul who is currently incarnated as Hope Harper. For her to trust you, you must put love into your words as you speak the truth. If that fails, read her the counsel scroll that Ophelia delivered.’

  And with that Archangel Gabriel vanished leaving me to call after him, ‘Thank you, Archangel Gabriel.’

  Hope was staring at the space Archangel Gabriel had occupied just moments before with a frozen expression etched into her delicate features.

  ‘Did you hear and see the angel?’ I asked her.

  She struggled to answer me. Finally, thawing herself out she managed to stutter, ‘An angel was here in your office?’

  ‘Yes, Hope. That was Archangel Gabriel. He wishes for us to communicate honestly with each other. Can you do that?’

  She took a while to answer me, leaving me to employ the patience I had been working on, courtesy of God, but eventually she said in a near back to normal voice, ‘OK, if I accept everything you’ve said, tell me, why have you come back after crossing over to haunt me?’

  ‘I’m not here to haunt you, Hope.’

  ‘Then why are you here?’

  ‘Err . . . To talk to you about Rupert,’ I half lied, although I told myself it was for the greater good so God would forgive me.