"That is not what I am here to answer, Ariel." Daniel’s stern expression was the same, aging his otherwise youthful face. "Follow me," he ordered her, spreading his wings wide.
Daniel took flight across the city, and Ariel watched the angel fly in awe. He looked down on her, thirty feet below, waiting for her to follow him. Ariel looked down, fists gripped tightly, and took a deep breath. Her wings slowly stretched from her back. Luminescent and clear against the shadow of the night, they reached out and ached from centuries of enforced stagnation.
Ariel had never felt more alive. Like a bird finally able to escape from its cage, she reeled back and rose up into the sky. Soaring higher and higher, Ariel rejoiced in her freedom. A giggle escaped her lips as she steadied herself. Having not used them in so long made her flight slow and clumsy. She wheeled around, enjoying the night air, but stopped when she realized that Daniel watched her over his shoulder with impatience. Ariel pursed her lips and focused. There will be a proper time for celebration.
Turning his back to her, Daniel moved east. Ariel struggled to keep up with his pace, following at a distance. Even without their invisibility from human eyes, they were so high up that they would look like birds in the sky to the ones below. Daniel dived down after a few minutes, Ariel following more closely now. Landing in front of a tall building she assumed to be an apartment, Ariel heaved as she steadied herself. The exhilaration of her flight brought both fatigue and excitement in her. She looked up, seeing Daniel standing in front of the building as if in prayer. She moved over next to him and asked, "What are we doing here?"
"John Maxwell Saunders," Daniel announced, looking back at her. "He is the next prophet in line. And you will be his guardian and messenger."
"A prophet?" Ariel repeated, surprised. She had expected that her task would be to watch over a human soul, but not one that would serve such a great purpose in Heaven. "I have not been on an assignment in centuries. Why would the archangels task me with protecting a messenger of Heaven?"
"Questions are dangerous, Ariel. We are not to doubt the word of the archangels, for their words are the words of God," Daniel told her. Ariel lowered her eyes, ashamed of what her queries had implied.
"My apologies. That was not my intention."
Daniel studied her for a few moments before continuing. "Maxwell Saunders is known across Illinois and other states as the host of a weekly podcast show. He is quite well-known for calling out conspiracies about events around the world. Government secrets, lies spread in the name of our God, events that raised the eyebrows of the thinking individual. He has established connections to protect himself from those that disagree with his subject matter, and his reach is wide enough that most of whose business are under fire because of his show will be immediately suspected if Maxwell Saunders were to mysteriously fall. Most of his accusations have been proven true despite what critics may try to say, therefore, he has enough influence and recognition to deliver our messages."
Ariel nodded. Nearly half of Daniel’s introduction had confused the innocent angel; however, a small peek inside the minds of the individuals that passed them were enough to give her the idea.
Daniel spread his wings again and shot up into the air, Ariel following suit. They landed on the topmost floor of the building where a large room called a penthouse was being rented under the name of Sander Mauer, a pseudonym Maxwell used. Inside was a wide space filled with mismatched furniture and numerous electronics. Ariel peeked inside and felt a strange curiosity in following the wirings that made up the contraption Maxwell used for his recordings. There are far too many changes in the human world.
"That is him." Daniel pointed to the man who emerged from the door at the far right corner. He was a tall but lanky man with mousy brown hair and almond-shaped eyes. Ariel read the man's history in one sight. He came from a wealthy family but had dropped out of an Ivy League school soon after enrolling. Disowned by his father who was a city lawyer in Massachusetts, his hobby as a conspiracist turned into a career when he created his radio program where he was free to speak as he pleased. A messenger of truth, as he liked to call himself.
And so you shall be, Ariel thought.
"Will you still be able to perform?" Daniel turned to her.
Ariel felt the need to defend herself, however, she understood Daniel's doubt. It had been so long since she had communicated successfully with a human that she herself wasn't sure if she still remembered how. "I will try," Ariel announced.
Ariel spread her wings and cocooned herself in them. Here, she felt safe and scared at the same time. She could feel Daniel waiting for her to perform the task, and it did not help her nerves. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander. Detaching herself from her vessel was not difficult for the angel. Her consciousness drifted from her body and into the world like a lost spirit. Without the restrictions of her physical form, her senses were better than ever. She could hear the music and horns of the vehicles streets away. The lights inside the human's home were bright as the morning sun, yet they did not strain her vision.
Her body was caged inside her wings, but her soul was free to soar throughout the world. Yet, she held herself back. She had duties. Ariel turned back to the loft where Maxwell was turning to his bed to sleep. It was past ten, and the man looked beat. Ariel moved over to the man and peered into his tired thoughts. This was the more difficult part of her task, but it took very little time before she could see them, as bright as the day.
Maxwell Saunders’ lawyer had phoned him this afternoon about a potential lawsuit against his claims about the WHO’s new campaign for cancer awareness. His claims that the organization was run by hypocrites that were holding back the truly effective medicine to cure diseases for profit raised fists on both sides. Maxwell wasn’t fazed, given his long list of overcoming such threats against his show. The term “freedom of speech” is one he commonly used. There was a fine line between libelous claim and theoretical opinions. They’re just scared of their secrets being exposed, he added thoughtfully.
Ariel looked away from the man’s mind and returned to her body. Her wings slowly curled away behind her. Daniel watched her expectantly. “I’ve made the connection,” Ariel announced to him. A shadow of doubt still lingered on his face, but he did not speak of it anymore.
“Very well. For now, you must prepare the prophet’s faith and watch over him. As you may have already seen in his thoughts, he is not a true believer and therefore may be a challenge to convince. He will not relay our message if he does not believe. The archangels have not given me a date when the messages will be relayed so you must always be prepared to deliver it.”
“I understand.” She nodded, determination set in her eyes. This was her first opportunity to prove herself worthy of being free, to prove herself worthy of the protection of the archangel, Michael, when all demanded for her head. Ariel had no intention of failing him.
“If such a time comes that you are in need of assistance, you may seek for it. May our Lord grant you a favor, Ariel,” Daniel said before turning away. The light beside the building grew brighter and the angel stepped into it. His wings began to spread out before the light swallowed his figure. And then, he was gone.
Breathing deeply, Ariel began to feel better once the other angel was out of sight. She had been guarded by others for so long that it bothered her to be around one, as if she was still a prisoner shackled to her watcher. Hate had grown in her during her imprisonment, hate for the feeling of being watched. She shook the emotion away. Hate was difficult.
She turned back to her assigned human who had fallen asleep with the lights on. The soft snores of Maxwell Saunders were unsettling to the angel, but again, she reminded herself of her duties. Ariel covered herself with her wings once more and shut her eyes tight. Her consciousness left her body and entered Maxwell’s. She dug through his memory, searching for any seed that could help her. An event from sixteen years ago when an elderly homeless man begged in front of a church caught Ariel
’s attention. A Sunday mass was being prepared, and the attendants didn’t glance at the pitiful, starving man.
Ariel felt the resentment of the eleven-year-old Maxwell. People entered the church to praise their Lord and hear His word, yet none were willing to do as He would do: help the man. The seed of his resentment for the church was planted in that moment. Ariel only needed to nurture the seed in a way that would help the man’s faith.
With careful planning, Ariel weaved the memory into a dream. She coordinated the thoughts like an orchestra that would play soothing music rather than the ominous one it was currently giving. She felt the emotions wash over the sleeping man as he saw the homeless man in front of the church. The bells rang, signifying that the mass had started, and the elderly man hung his head low and prayed.
Miracles were never true, the angel knew that. What humans called miracles were just a string of events woven by God. Humans couldn’t comprehend this. But at that moment, she created a miracle for Maxwell. In truth, the elderly man had died soon after Maxwell saw him sixteen years ago. Yet, in this vision, his prayers were answered.
White light appeared above the man’s head, and he looked up in surprise. He watched as the image of a man came from the light and held out his palm to him. Tears brimmed at the corner of the elderly man’s eyes as he reached out to him. Though his legs looked fragile and weak, the elderly man stood from the floor and held on to the being’s hand. A smile spread across his lips. Hope and delight were in his eyes as he followed the being across the road. A young Maxwell stood before the two, and he welcomed the elderly man. The elderly man bowed his head to him and said, “You saved me, young man.”
Maxwell Saunders woke with a light feeling. He got up from his bed, feeling his fatigue fall away because of the beautiful dream. He rubbed his eyes and felt the tears wet on his arm. The angel outside his window watched with a smile as he pondered over the message she’d tried to convey to him. It was not enough to establish the man’s faith in them, but it was a start.
Chapter Three: A Game of Dreams
Hell has many entrances but few exits. One had to know how and where to look. In the world of the mortals, there were plenty of spots that have witnessed great evil and had enough souls spilled to create the energy to open a gate. One road that connected to the Gates of Hell was North Clark Street in Chicago, Illinoi where the St. Valentine’s Massacre had occurred many years before. Caelum emerged from the shadows of the road in his well-tailored suit, bringing with him the screams of the tortured souls from the fiery pit. Funny how most of the strange phenomenon that the humans thought were caused by evil spirits were actually caused by things far more evil and tormented.
Caelum smiled to himself as he scrutinized the area. The road was empty except for one cab hunting for a passenger. The driver looked at him with odd curiosity that slowly turned to fear. The driver turned the ignition and drove to the opposite corner where he waited with engine running. Caelum stifled a laugh at the look on the man’s face. Some humans are indeed more perceptive than others.
A new thrill had been presented to him by the leader of demons himself, and he couldn't help the pride brimming in him. "A time of great change is upon us, "Azazel told him. And change was what this world needed, in Caelum's opinion.
On a normal occasion, Caelum wouldn't be taking orders from the leader of demons. He had spent decades as one of Azazel's lapdogs, and he had long ago lost interest. But to think this new mission of his would have a great impact on the world as they know it, his thirst for adventure overruled.
Though, how could whispering in the ears of one human make such change? he wondered. Azazel hadn’t been in the mood to share much, therefore, he hadn't been able to pry out the plans from the boss.
All in good time. Though the possibility of the demon boss merely playing with him didn't go unnoticed. Caelum just had to make sure he was a step ahead lest he lost his head. Literally.
Dawn was breaking over the horizon, signaling a new day had come. It was as though luck had found its way to him when he chose the city where one of the important souls Hell must cultivate resided, making things more convenient to him. He hopped over the side and the wind took him higher until his feet gracefully landed on the edge of the building next to him. He breathed in the beautiful sunset that was spread across him, a mix of blue and orange artistically blended together. One must take time to admire nature’s art.
Pocketing his hands, Caelum wandered. The streets of Chicago were slowly beginning to buzz as humans went about their scheduled jobs, education, and affairs, all clocking in under a routine they lived and breathed for. Caelum found their daily lives mundane, ignorant. The temptation of playing around with a few passersby tickled his fancy. Alas, he had matters to attend to. Though, his was much more important than theirs, of course.
The tall building of gray and brown stood before him. Eight stories and a rooftop loft. His client was awaiting him at the cherry on top of the establishment. The human mode of transportation to the upper floors was not one he was willing to take.
He scrutinized the surroundings for easier access to the penthouse. The rising sun gave few shadows for him to begin with and he concentrated on one near enough for him to enter. Like stepping into a threshold, Caelum moved forward, and from the shadows, he appeared inside the penthouse.
A grand floor-to-ceiling window stood before him across the barbeque grill and picnic table. He stepped towards the house, only to stop cold. Immediately, he backed away into the shadow. The darkness enveloped him to hide his form; he wished it could also hide his presence to the foreign being nearby.
There was a movement from the right corner. Caelum turned and saw the woman materializing as if from the sun itself. Her dark straight hair moved softly as she stepped to the glass-paneled windows of the apartment of Sander Mauer, also known as John Maxwell Saunders, who lay unconscious in his bed. The woman had luminescent fair skin that contrasted splendidly with her black hair. However, her skin was not the only part of her that glowed against the sunlight. Caelum squinted to see better, and indeed, there were curved reflections of light hovering behind the woman,as if she had transparent glass ornaments attached to her back.
His eyes widened, and his lips turned up to smile. Is that… an angel? His thoughts were excited. He’d heard stories of them, like urban legends around the campfire that was Hell itself. But this was his first opportunity to see one. And in the form of a beautiful lady. Truly this is my lucky day! Caelum exclaimed in his thoughts. Most demons would either be angered or frightened at the sight of the holy being. He had never been like them anyway. To him, the presence of the angel was more like another challenge he must overcome. A challenge that made his mission far more interesting.
The angel had her palm against the glass, peering into Maxwell Saunders’ apartment. He stifled a laugh at the thought of an angel stalking the man and taking a peek at his dreams while the man slept, a vulnerable time for a human. But his actions seemed to have triggered something in the angel who looked over her shoulder. Caelum froze once again, her face now completely visible to the demon.
Doe blue eyes, round cheeks, full lips, and a narrow pointed nose. If there was one word he’d use to describe her beauty, it was indeed heavenly. Though there was something else about her appearance that stroked the demon’s mind besides her beauty. But his thoughts betrayed him, and he couldn’t put a finger on the reason for this strange emotion. He shook his head. Let’s not get distracted by the pretty lady, now.
The angel turned back to the human, frozen while she watched him. Something glistened behind the angel and Caelum could almost imagine her wings spreading around her, though they were invisible to his demonic eyes.
After a few moments, Maxwell tossed around on his bed until he was fully awake. Caelum watched the man shake his head with a confused look on his face. He picked up his phone to check the time. Obviously alarmed by the time, the man jumped from his bed and threw on the first clothes he fou
nd. A mere two minutes after awaking, Maxwell was out of the door.
Maxwell rushed into the street and desperately hailed a cab to take him to his destination. Caelum landed gently in the alley between Maxwell’s apartment building and the laundromat next to it. Falling had always been easier than rising up; no gimmicks with shadows were required. He stepped out into the light just as Maxwell passed the area. Bumping into the man’s shoulders, Caelum made the contact and the man’s memories were implanted in his.
“Sorry, man,” Caelum muttered to the human who didn’t even give him a nod in return, merely storming off to chase another cab. Caelum turned back into the alley and hid himself in the shadows. He pulled the memory of the dream Maxwell Saunders had recently had, only then realizing what he was going up against.
The holy blessed dream of the young Maxwell and an older man in a church was obviously the attempt of the angel to interfere with Hell claiming the soul of this particular man. Though, by the human rules of first come, first served, the angel had claimed territory over the man’s soul. Good thing Heaven and Hell are not bound by such ridiculous rules, Caelum thought. The game was just beginning for the demon, and the angel who waited for the human in his home was his new opponent.
Waiting in the balcony of her prophet’s home, Ariel counted the hours she had spent in the mortal city. Until now, Heaven had yet to send her the message she was meant to deliver to Maxwell. Impatience was growing in her mind, but she suppressed it. She had waited for centuries for this opportunity; a mere twenty hours was nothing compared to that.
The lack of news from Heaven wasn't the only issue that bothered the angel. Upon releasing Maxwell from his slumber, the man had dashed out of his home immediately. Ariel was finally able to pull away her focus on the human and back towards her surroundings. A shadow caught the corner of her eye past the picnic table that was set at the center of the balcony. The glimpse of it dissolved as soon as she saw it, offering her no opportunity to investigate. She had been in Heaven for so long, never encountering other beings. The mere presence of humans had become foreign and unsettling to the angel, but the presence she felt from the shadow was different. Malevolent and dark. A demon from Hell? she wondered.
The Damned and The Pure Series: Books 1-4 (The Damned and The Pure Series Box Set) Page 3