Harbinger in the Mist (Arms of Serendipity)
Page 27
Before his will power faltered, Eli turned and entered the small shanty that sat under a large, mossy live oak to his left. Two hundred years ago, this place would already be a-buzz with activity. But today the little slave house sat in the deep recesses of the grounds, obscured from view by overgrowth as it and its twin where an embarrassing reminder of the history of the Marla Rae Retreat House. Everyone ignored this place. Not even a spirit from the past lurked in its corners. Yes, the cap would be safe in this place.
In a far back corner, he dug a hole in the sandy earth into which he nestled the sacred object. Having only a gardening spade as a tool, the task had taken longer than Eli would have liked. He could have snapped his fingers and forced the hardened dirt to give way, but it was paramount that he did it all in human form. Once the cap was covered with a small mound of earth, he topped it off with an old burlap rug and moss. Finally, he pushed a large antique writing desk over the resting spot. He wiped the sweat from his brow and stretched his aching back. Doing this in human form had been tedious, but it prevented any spiritual splash from being left behind. The Grigori wouldn’t be able to track the cap here.
Before he stepped through the doorway, Eli sent a silent blessing into the dark room. The only problem with hiding pieces of the Ark in the Land of the Living was that it acted like a magnet for the human soul. If a human ventured too close to the piece, they would feel a deep need to move near the area in which it was hidden. Some said it was like an angel’s whisper, calling to them and bringing clarity to issues that had been bothering them. Others said it was like an inner tug that brought them to their knees in reflection. His supplications should create enough of a barrier to prevent Lindsey or her mother, or anyone else that might visit Retreat House, from being pulled to this spot.
Eli exited the shack swiftly and, through a thick curtain of Spanish moss, afforded the house one more look of desire. His remembered the first time he stepped foot on this property. His commander had dispatched him to take care of a rip in the veil between the land of living and the Shadowlands. A spirit had been sucked through in the rip and it had been his job to find out the whys and how’s and to fix the problem before more spirits escaped. After assessing the damage on both sides of the veil, Eli had thought the job would be fairly straight forward. Then he saw her. Although Lindsey could not see him, he slinked back from her. He tried to ignore the tugging sensation, the desire to have her see him, to have her talk to him, … to have her touch him. From that moment, his being centered around protecting Lindsey from the angry entity that had taken to tormenting her.
He had obtained special permission to work in human form. And that, to use a tired human cliché, was all she wrote. He tried to fight the notion that he wouldn’t be able to leave when the job was done. But seeing her dance with another man at a party, feeling the jealousy and rage bubble up in his chest, resolved that. He pledged his love and devotion to her, promising that he would descend and they’d be together forever. Oh, she fought it for his sake; adamant that he not give up his immortality, his role as a warrior for the Creator. But it was a done deal.
At least it was until just a few hours ago when his audience before the high commander of the Harbingers turned from being an official request to descend to a mission to protect the Creator’s magnum opus from destruction. He sighed and, instead of approaching her resting place, he walked in the opposite direction and knelt by the water’s edge and rinsed the dirt and grime from his hands. He wanted to peek over his shoulders just one more time, but instead he splashed the cool water onto his dirt-streaked face.
Familiar scents of Jasmine, Magnolia, and briny waters stung his mind, releasing the venom of heart stopping memories. Oh, how he longed to turn and enter the big house! To grab her in his arms, pull her from her sleeping reveries… but he could not afford to lose focus. Soon, but not now. Before he could talk himself into staying, Eli disappeared into the cloudy, moonless night.
Copyright
Copyright © 2011 Anabell Martin
First Edition
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976 and the United Kingdom Copyright Act of 1956 and 1988. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.
(Ragz Books)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental
Illustration by Claire Chilton
Edited by Eileen Gormley and Claire Chilton
Contents
In Loving Memory
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty One
Twenty Two
Twenty Three
Twenty Four
Twenty Five
Epilogue
Marla Rae Retreat Painting
Sneak Peek
One
Copyright
Contents
Table of Contents
In Loving Memory
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty One
Twenty Two
Twenty Three
Twenty Four
Twenty Five
Epilogue
Marla Rae Retreat Painting
Sneak Peek
Copyright
Contents