Restoration: A Historical Novella (The Path to Redemption Series)

by Kimbra Swain

  Suddenly, I felt alarmed. Abby’s soul did not hover waiting for dismissal. In fact, I did not feel her soul at all. The wizard must have taken her soul. One day I would find him, and I would yank the life out of him with my bare hands. I clinched my fists and growled. My anger and frustration flowed out of me in power that shook the walls.

  “Quies, my friend,” Samara said from the doorway. My fury settled, and I drew deep breaths. He surveyed the room. I saw two large shadows behind him. The twins, Tony and Tommy, stood and waited on instructions.

  “This one,” he pointed to the white-eyed corpse.

  “I released the soul of him and the other,” I pointed to the man with the broken neck. Samara sighed. He thought the same thing I had. Abigail in her desperation may have resorted to consuming souls to survive. She didn’t go that far. However, she did pull the life out of the man and used that power to kill another. An act punishable by death. The Conjurer’s Association wouldn’t get their chance to execute her though. I tried to imagine what horror would have forced her to that level of hopelessness.

  Samara approached the bed and gently pulled back the sheets revealing her lower body and legs. “Oh no,” he mumbled. The rip on her dress started at the hem and went all the way to her belt. Her undergarments laid torn off on the bed. He laid the sheet back down over her.

  My anger flared again. “Who would do this?”

  “I swear on my life and power, that I will find him. He will die,” he stated.

  “I want him to suffer,” I replied.

  He took a deep breath and settled himself. “We need to prepare her quickly,” he said.

  “Why? She’s gone beyond what our power can do for her. Her soul either passed to the next life, or the wizard took it. We need to call Gregory and tell him. If we wait any longer, he will strangle us both,” I said.

  “Yes, summon him. He trapped her soul in her body. Part of the mark of protection he put on her a long time ago,” he said.

  “Then he should know this happened. He’s never taken the care or effort he should have in raising her. He shoved her off on you and me, and doesn’t deserve to be called,” I replied.

  “Summon him now,” he said as his voice rose. He was frustrated by this horribly bloody scene. He looked back at Tony and Tommy. “We need to remove her dress. However, be careful with her head because the cut is extremely deep. We have no chance at this if we sever her head completely.

  “What chance!” I yelled. “She’s dead!”

  “Lincoln, we have a chance. Please summon, Gregory,” he said firmly. Tony walked in to help, but Tommy refused. “It’s okay, Tommy. You and Jay deal with Trevant’s body. After we move her, the three of you clean the room. Burn the building down if necessary. I don’t care how you do it, then get back to Lisbon and wait for instructions.”

  “Yes, sir,” Tony replied. Samara spoke to Tony in low tones as they cut the dress away from her and prepared her body so that we could move it.

  I closed my eyes and focused on my employer. “Gregory Theodoard, head of the Agency, hear my voice and come,” I really didn’t put any force behind it. I thought he would come immediately when called. He had to know this happened unless the wizard blocked it somehow.

  No response.

  “Hyperion. Father of the Sun, the Moon and the Dawn, answer my call and come.”

  I mumbled something about him being an asshole and called thrice, “Hyperion, master of the watch and the keeper of days, come forth!”

  The room wobbled for a moment. I’d pushed my anger and frustration into the summons, and it caused me to waiver. A bright light flashed into the room and slowly faded. Gregory Theodoard stood before me in a white suit, blue shirt with a white cane and top hat.

  “By the gods, Lincoln, why are you summoning me? What hell hole is this?” he shouted at me. His eyes darkened, his face turned to ash, and his proud shoulders dropped. He muttered quietly, “No, no, no.” He dropped the hat and cane and rushed to the bed.

  I stepped out of his way, and Samara stepped back from wrapping the body in clean sheets. Tony stepped back as well. He leaned down over her face, and tears rolled down his cheeks freely. The Greek Titan wept.

  “My lord, if we wrap her and take her to the island or Northumberland, perhaps he can do something to help her,” Samara suggested quietly.

  I turned my face away. Anger and frustration were emotions I felt daily, but grief and sorrow were not. My words haunted me again, and I groaned.

  “Who did this?” he asked.

  “We do not know. Not yet anyway,” Samara replied.

  “Who was with her?”

  “Brian Trevant.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Dead in the other room,” Samara answered his questions succinctly.

  “Where were you?” he asked Tony and Tommy.

  “She instructed Tommy and I to stay behind with Charlie Murphy,” he said and cringed waiting on Hyperion’s wrath which continued to build.

  “Where is Jay Stafford?” he asked.

  “I’m here, sir,” he replied and stepped up to the door. He looked toward the ceiling. My eyes followed his. A thin line of blood spray crossed above the bed. He closed his eyes, and I turned mine away.

  “Why weren’t you with her?” he asked.

  Jay’s knees buckled, and he hit the floor. “I’m sorry, sir. I was with her until she decided to go upstairs, but she went up alone.”

  “Why didn’t you escort her to the door?”

  Samara stepped in, “My lord, we are wasting time. Jay would be dead had he followed her upstairs.”

  “I wish, I were,” Jay said.

  Poor Jay Stafford would receive the brunt of Hyperion’s wrath. He flashed his hand out in front of him, and Stafford flew to the other side of the room that held Brian Trevant’s body. His body hit the wall with a decisive crack. Hyperion marched into the room after him. “What did you do?”

  “It was innocent. I swear. We kissed. That’s all. I swear, sir. You know I’d never hurt her,” he sobbed slumped against the wall. Jay had multiple gifts and talents. The main gift he possessed was rapid healing. The slam would not harm anything but his ego.

  “You touched her! You did that!” He pointed toward the room with Abigail’s body. Samara jumped between him and lifted his hands as if to block Gregory’s wrath.

  “No, Gregory. Jay did not do this. It was a shaman and four. Sir, you know the significance,” Samara reasoned. “Please, leave the boy out of it. His only fault is that he loved her, as if that is a fault at all.”

  Jay rolled down to the floor on his side and cried. “I would trade places in a heartbeat,” he murmured.

  “Lincoln,” Gregory said.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Take her to the house in Northumberland. He will meet you there. Prepare her the best you can for him,” he instructed me. I finally realized what Samara had alluded to when he said there was a chance.

  “Sir, what are the consequences of this action?” I questioned gingerly.

  “Does it matter? If she ceases to be, we all do,” he said.

  “That’s not true,” I responded.

  “It might as well be,” he said. “I’ll be in touch. I have a few inquiries to make.” He walked over to Jeremy Stafford who continued to lay on the floor silently. “Forgive me, Jay. I took my frustration out on you.”

  His apology stunned me as well as everyone else in the room. He faded from view, and we all went to work.

  Samara and I had a difficult time securing Abigail’s body in order to move it through a circle port. Delicately moving her head around proved to be the biggest obstacle. Once I got her safely in my arms, Samara empowered the circle, and we ported to Northumberland. Abigail owned a home there. Actually, the estate stretched across 70 acres with a large main house, stables, farmland and manicured gardens. A gust of wind swirled around us, and we appeared in the wine cellar of the large home. Samara and I walked out of the cellar and down the ha
llway. A skinny man about 5 foot 5 inches tall rounded the corner and approached us in a hurry.

  “Master Samara and Master Lincoln, please, I have the room ready,” the man said.

  “Thank you, Raif,” Samara answered. We followed him down the corridor and around the corner. The hallway opened to a large room with a stone table along the back wall. On the stone table, a sigil gleamed brightly. The house rumbled with the report of thunder.

  “Hurry,” I said to Samara. He grabbed the sheets surrounding her lower body and removed them. As he did, he handed them to Raif. When he finished the bottom half, the room brightened with a purplish white light. Quickly laying her on the table, I jerked Samara away. We didn’t get all the coverings off of her. Raif ducked out the door and cowered against the hallway wall. Samara knelt and covered his face. I stepped back and lowered my head in respect, but I did not close my eyes. I would not take my eyes off her body for any reason.

  “Slayer, you are bold,” a man’s voice rumbled in the room.

  “Can you help her?” I asked directly. The Archangel had no connection to my stories, or my native home. Gabriel did not intimidate me. He possessed the power to end me where I stood, but I knew that he would not.

  The bright light faded around him revealing a young man with golden blonde hair and deep crystal blue eyes. His facial features were all smooth with no hard lines. With deep concern, his eyes studied her. He wore dark navy pants and vest, and a white button up shirt. “If you would, please continue to remove the cloth. I need to see all of her.”

  Moving to the side of the table, I gently removed the remaining sheets revealing the deep gash in her throat. His face distorted, and his eyes flashed with anger. I stepped back quickly. He recovered his calm demeanor, but I moved further back to allow him to assess her.

  His steady hand hovered above her face. Fingers splayed wide, he spoke in a language I had never heard. The bruises on her face started to heal. He moved his hand across her neck, and the tissue reformed. Until every injury received attention, he moved his hand over her body focusing on the areas where she had the most bruising. When we wrapped her up in New York, I didn’t realize how extensively she was damaged. “It will be awhile before she heals completely. I only started the healing process. I’m afraid the sorcerer placed a spell on her before she died, and I cannot reverse it.”

  “What kind of spell?” I asked.

  “She will never have children,” he said softly.

  “Why would someone do this?” I asked. I also wondered what kind of being could put a spell on her that even Gabriel couldn’t reverse. The only possibilities that I could come up with were that the wizard involved was actually something much darker, or perhaps he had a demonic patron to supplement his powers. These thoughts I kept to myself and would discuss them with Samara later. I refrained from implying to Gabriel that his power might be lacking. I did not want to receive a personal demonstration.

  “To harm me. Someone out there knows our connection. He will continue to kill her in ways that do not destroy her body. He will force me to act, and though I know their intentions, I will come for her always.” He paused and took one last look at her. “Lincoln, you will watch over her for me?”

  “Yes, I will,” I answered immediately, and I didn’t answer out of fear. Surprisingly, I wanted to stay with her. An overwhelming need to protect her rippled over my skin and sank into the core of my soul. I looked at Samara, as he continued to kneel. Gabriel didn’t even acknowledge him.

  Until the moment he appeared in the room, I had doubted that Gabriel, the Archangel of the Christian God, considered a human his child. However, I saw the hurt and pain in his eyes when he looked at her. It was the love of a father.

  He nodded, and the light filled the room again. The intensity of the light caused me to shield my eyes, and when I looked again, he was gone. I walked over to her body. I expected to see her breathing. Life had most certainly returned to her body because her skin turned from the gray of death to the rosy pink of life. Yet, she did not breathe, and I felt no heartbeat. Jasper finally stood and joined me by her side.

  “His glory leaves a mark on her. The iridescence will fade,” he said.

  “What do you know about this?” I asked him.

  “I’ve seen it before with another, before Abigail entered our lives,” he said simply.

  “Another?” I questioned. Samara’s assertion that this world had more than one child who had parental ties to an Archangel surprised me. However, considering the beasts and unnatural beings I’d seen in my lifetime, I shouldn’t be surprised that there were equally beautiful things.

  “Raguel’s daughter, Sarah,” he said. “He brought her back multiple times. She passed from this world despite all his efforts, and he lost his angelic abilities. Unfortunately, Gabriel will do the same if we can’t keep her alive. It will be several weeks before she awakens. We should get her upstairs into her bedroom.”

  “Wait, you mean to tell me if she dies again, he will come again. How many times can he save her?” I asked.

  “Seven. Six now,” he replied. “Abigail will have to learn to guard herself more, but we cannot tell her about him. I think it would be unwise to burden her with it. She had no choice in the matter. I feel that telling her is the wrong course of action, and Hyperion agrees.”

  “I would tell her. She deserves to know,” I spoke frankly.

  “Each time the truth is spoken, we run the risk of increasing the attacks on her. Could you imagine the creatures out there who would brag that they brought Gabriel to his knees? No, we need to teach her the best we can and plan for future protection. You will not tell her, Lincoln,” he said.

  “I won’t tell her, because it’s not my place to tell. However, my opinion on the matter will not change,” I replied firmly.

  “Killing those men will leave a scar on her soul, and it will never heal. Besides, I thought you disliked her, yet you agreed to watch over her. Why?” he asked.

  “I didn’t think. It’s not as if I could tell Gabriel that I wouldn’t do it. If she comes back anything like she used to be, I’ll regret it,” I grumbled.

  Samara laughed, and it echoed through the stone corridors of the basement. “For the most part, she will be the same.” He paused, then added, “Hopefully.”

  I picked up one of the sheets that had fallen on the floor to put over her, but Raif scurried into the room with a large blanket. I wrapped her up in it and took her upstairs to her bedroom.

  WEEKS WENT BY, and I stayed at the house in Northumberland. I’d roamed the world for thousands of years. Never had I stayed in one place for so long. Abigail laid in the bed day by day, never moving, never breathing. I felt like I watched over an undying corpse.

  Occasionally, I’d walk to the coast. The property stretched to the North Sea, and in the distance Bamburgh Castle stood proudly. The Armstrong family bought the castle in 1894. The 2nd Lord Armstrong and his family lived there. The castle itself had rested there for over 1,000 years. Northumberland was once a kingdom all of its own, and Bamburgh was the cornerstone. In my lifetime, I’d seen many kingdoms rise and fall. The world seemed to be more stable now than in those early days when Vikings and Romans had visited Northumberland. However, after the few days that I spent fighting in the World War in Arabia, I changed my mind. It reminded me that the world was even more volatile.

  Gregory and the Agency would need to make changes in the near future to ensure our control and stabilization over the world once the war ended. Our ultimate job included knowing when the war would end, and positioning the Agency to aid in any way possible, while maintaining neutrality among the nations. We fought the supernatural, not the humans. Although many wizards considered themselves human, they weren't human by my standards. One, in particular, I’ve sworn to kill. As I walked along, the sun shone brightly above me, and I enjoyed the cool breezes off the sea.

  I turned back to the house, knowing Samara would arrive this evening. He visited occasiona
lly to check on her and give me a little company other than Raif. I tolerated the creature, but I did not like his kind. They were persistent, skittish and downright bothersome. Raif belonged to a group of anthropomorphic creatures classified as Rodentia. To put it basically, Raif was a rat. Abigail had some strange affection for the creature. He looked like any other man in the world, but he could of course, shift into rodent form. He acted like a pest and often became disconcerting. Since I agreed to stay with Abigail, it meant I got to spend way too much time with him. As I approached the house, he stumbled hastily out the front door. I picked up my pace and ran to him. “What’s wrong?”

  “She moved. I swear. She moved,” he said hysterically.

  I bolted past him up to the room where she rested on the bed. I stood still and watched her. I waited and waited, but I saw no movement. She still did not breathe. I walked up to her and touched her neck. No pulse. I rounded on Raif who hid just outside the door. “Don’t ever do that again!”

  “I promise, Master Lincoln. She moved. I saw it,” he continued.

  “Go away!” I shouted at him, and slammed the door. I slumped down in the chair next to her bed.

  For the first week or so, I had barely left the chair. Slowly I adjusted to sleeping in the room next door. Sometimes I would eat in the great hall. If Samara was here, we would sit downstairs in the parlor, but every moment I spent away, I feared that she would wake up alone.

  I studied her body position, and tried to remember exactly what she looked like before my walk. I concluded that she hadn’t moved. I couldn’t hate Raif though. He wanted her to move as much as I did. I laid my head on the edge of the bed, and drifted off to sleep.

  I JERKED awake as the bed beneath me moved. “Abby?” I said.

  She did not respond. It didn’t look like she had moved. I jumped at the smallest thing like the mouse. I rubbed my forehead and groaned.

  “I thought you decided not to stay up here all the time?” Samara said at the door.