Airel

by Patterson, Aaron

  “Thank you,” I said in a soft whisper. It was like a kiss. I was all too aware of how I must look, with a big goofy looking face and a big fat lump on my forehead. I felt flushed and turned away, breaking the spell. He stood up and said, “’Kay, then,” waved his perfect hand at me, and left. I didn’t know what to think.

  Kim plopped down with a sigh in the chair he had only seconds ago occupied. I was a little jolted by that sacrilege. “Fell,” her voice was sugary sweet and her eyelashes fluttered. “What a load of crap! You passed out because you were scared to death.” She was pointing and poking at me.

  “Dude, ow! Chill!” I grabbed her pointy finger angrily and shoved it back at her. I was a little offended at how my fantasy world had been so suddenly and rudely broken. She, of all people, my best friend, ought to have known that I needed time to come down from that high. Dang it!

  My life was a struggle again and things were impossible, unexplained, and dangerous. And then, front and center in my memory was the face of a cold-blooded murderer. It all came pouring back in on top of me.

  The killer had found me at home, left a calling card, and now he had been watching me at school, for who knows how long. I felt like my back was either up against a wall or like the wall had jumped onto my back and I could not get it off.

  “Airel.” Kim sounded like she knew what I was thinking and I realized I was holding my head in my hands. “He’s stalking you. We should go to the police. I mean, like, now. This is getting a little out of control, don’t you think?”

  “We can’t, Kim. I don’t have a good reason. I mean, he knows something about me and…” I caught myself and clamped my lips shut before I could say any more. What was I supposed to say? That I heal and have some kind of power? That he might be the only person who knows what’s going on with me? That I needed to let him find me? Or that I needed to find him so I could get some answers?

  “You’re not making any sense, Airel! This is not a game. You could get killed! Is that what you want?”

  I looked away. It occurred to me that the killer might be some other kind of villain that I had not yet considered. I let my imagination go for a sec. I wondered: what if I was some kind of freak science experiment gone wrong? God only knew what kind of research some of these big pharma companies were doing, and who knew what kind of things the CIA might be up to. I felt crazy, but what if this dude was sent to bring me in? What if he was my handler, my boss? Crazier things have happened. I looked back at my best friend.

  “Kim?”

  “Uh, yeah, crazy girl?”

  “Never mind.” I couldn’t begin to explain and I dismissed her with a wave of my hand. She reacted by recoiling from me, mouth open, in disbelief as it dawned on her that I was totally shutting her out.

  The school nurse walked in just in time. The last thing I wanted to do was inform my best friend that I couldn’t tell her what was going on. But I guess I just did that, only without words. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I decided right there to figure out what was happening to me on my own. Even if it meant putting myself in danger, I didn’t want to drag anyone else into it—especially Kim.

  Kim stood up and stormed out in a huff. Oh boy. That will take some time to fix.

  As I followed the nurse into the exam room, my heart was flipping around inside me, doing cartwheels. I had just trampled all over my best friend. But necessity, or survival, focused my entire mind. If I could only figure out how to go about figuring this riddle out. Airel, you really are nuts.

  I felt like I was trapped inside a game I didn’t want to play.

  Chapter XXVIII

  The dream of the cage—now that I was alone—mocked me and haunted my every waking moment. I could feel the dust fill my nostrils with the stench of the demon as it hovered just inside the back of my mind. My world wasn’t very exciting on most days, but now it seemed that every turn I made brought me into a situation that might kill me; or maybe something worse. Much worse.

  I sat on the exam table, wondering what it all meant. It was fitting, being on yet another exam table. Perhaps I was sicker than I knew. I felt really bad about Kim. She was a good friend and I was being unfair. But I wanted to keep her at a safe distance from this—from me—for a while.

  Then—and this is where it gets crazy again—there was the voice in the back of my head, sometimes accompanied by the fluttering of a bird’s wings, or the sound of pages turning in a book. She, I called her. Like an extension of myself. No. Kind of like Mom, I guess, but not. Whenever I heard She speak, I felt like I was hearing wisdom. I knew that I was changing. She had told me as much and I accepted that somehow. She knew and reassured me.

  I felt bad for keeping Kim in the dark, but seriously, what the heck was I supposed to tell her? And where in the world would I start? I knew that no matter what she was my best friend, but I hesitated.

  Michael. I could tell him, couldn’t I? Not that I had any logical or sane reason to trust him other than the fact that I was beginning to fall for him. That wasn’t it though. There was something in the way he looked at me that made me feel like I could tell him anything without reservation.

  Miss Parks, a youngish woman, flashed a bright light into one eye and then the other. The light brought me out of my daydreaming. I liked to dream, but lately, I seemed to have lost control of my thoughts.

  “You look fine,” she said. “Nothing more than a bump on the head as far as I can tell. Are you feeling better? Do you have a headache?”

  I didn’t have a headache or even feel bad. A terrible thought came to me. What if the nasty throbbing welt on my forehead healed and disappeared right in front of Miss Parks? I figured it would be smart to fake a headache because most people in my situation would have a whopper. I winced and put my fingers to my temples.

  “Yep. My head feels like it’s stuck under a school bus. Do you have anything for that?” Hey, Miss Parks, don’t worry about it. It’ll heal here in the next few seconds… just watch. Yeah, that would go over like a turd in a punch bowl.

  Miss Parks smiled a weak smile, pursing her lips compassionately. “I’ll get you some Tylenol. That should help.” She hurried into the other room.

  I stood up and walked toward the door so when she got back I could get out of there as fast as possible.

  Miss Parks came back into the room, handed me a little packet of Tylenol, and put her hand on my shoulder. “Take two now and two more in a few hours if you still have a headache. And try not to faint the next time you see a bunch of boys in football uniforms.” She giggled at herself and I faked a light laugh.

  “Thanks for the Tylenol.” I said and turned toward the door.

  I opened the door. First I saw green and gold, then a football jersey, then Michael. He must have hurried back from practice after it ended. I grinned compulsively at him like an idiot, and then tried to wipe it from my face, hiding behind my hand. But that only made it worse.

  He looked incredible. I tried to tear my eyes away from his, but did a double take. Something in his eyes refused to release me. It was shock, amazement—then fear.

  Chapter XXIX

  1250 B.C. Arabia

  A tent stood in the darkness, ringed by hundreds of other tents at a distance that suggested supreme command, fear of authority, or both. Choking smoke filled the beaver skin tent as the Seer looked deep within his pulsing bloodstone.

  The blazing light was otherworldly. Even though it was sucking the life from him, he could not pull away. He desired and lusted for the glow of amber light so much that it filled his obsessive dreams every night; whispering to him things he never before imagined. A faint glow escaped from the seams in the tent. The light dimmed, flared up, then faded back to a fragment of its former self.

  The camp numbered a thousand men and a thousand demons. They were weak when the men, the hosts in the parasitic relationship, were separated and the demons were manifest in their true forms.

  Demons, agents of the kingdom of Hell, sought a lodging in t
he minds of the men and fed on their life force parasitically. Men followed the Seer blindly, obsessed with every filthy lust to which they could give themselves, or to which the demons could tether them. To the men, the demons were men too—they just possessed higher—kingly—authority. This was rarely questioned. They had been blinded and cursed by the power exchange—power they thought they received from the demonic relationship, but which in fact they gave and re-gave time and again to the agents of Hell that fed off it. This deception was an addiction both parties found irresistible.

  And their foolish hearts were darkened, blinding them from the truth…

  The army was trained and seasoned by war. They were fiercely loyal, so long as plunder was available in plenty, but they also feared the Seer. Remarkable was the fear that the bloodstone he carried around his neck garnered. The light that ominously bloomed from his tent at night unnerved them. For this reason, not one tent stood anywhere near a stone’s throw of the Seer.

  “Yessssssss… yes, show me what you will have me do… sssssspeak.” The Seer groaned, his body writhing shamefully. His face washed out in the ruby red light, his eyes empty sockets filled with blood, glowing with consuming heat. He looked featureless in the glow as the demon light took his human features and replaced them with something entirely different. The figure that stared into the pulsing pendant was ancient; repulsive, suggesting real evil–something that went far beyond description. The Seer was careless of the sucking leeching properties of the bloodstone. He was addicted to it, bound to it, dependent upon it; even as it rotted him from his core.

  His hollow sockets blazed their way into the world that lived within the walls of the small thing. His lips parted, showing rotten jagged teeth. Inside the bloodstone, the red cleared just enough to allow him to see in. A man—no: the angel Kreios stood in a wooded place listening and watching.

  “Argh!” The Seer spit and cursed at the sight of his arch enemy.

  In answer to his question, pure red hatred split the bloodstone open in a tight beam that spread wide, covering the Seer in a bath of evil. The old man writhed, rocking back on his heels and toppling over, sprawling on the dirt floor. Dust clung to his filth.

  Arms curling into cadaverous claws, the Seer opened his mouth to scream out in pain, but nothing came forth. The bloodstone became hot and burned his hand, melting the skin, filling up his mind with a vision of the future; breaking his will even further. His body nearly snapped as his back arched and he thrashed against it, fought it, spewing and retching—but to no effect.

  A silken voice then spoke to him in a lost tongue. He could not have dared to try to speak it, but here in the wretched dirt he could at least comprehend it. “Listen to me, Seer. You will never be what you are supposed to be if you “fight” like this. I am here to bring you life…a life of which you have never dreamed. You do not have much time. The immortal Kreios draws near to the City of Refuge. You must seize the child before they reach the walls…or shall I have no use for you anymore?”

  The Seer lunged upward from the ground as the red fire from the stone blanketed his body. He hovered wildly and upright, eyes wide and knowing. Clutching the stone, he whined like a whipped dog as spittle drenched his cracked and bleeding lips. The bloodstone went dark, abandoned him. He was thrown violently to the ground.

  Crumpled on the floor like so much waste, the Seer groaned, coming back to himself. He shook his head and got to his feet. He looked at the now cold pendant with dim recognition, as if he was not able to recall something very important. He replaced it around his neck and tucked it under his robe. Hanging over his mind like a ready avalanche was the certainty of the next step the army was to take. He flattered himself that he was a partner with his master. But that was why he was Seer—he was so simply persuaded of his own importance. He did not dare to dream that he was completely replaceable.

  He needed air. He pulled back his hood, revealing the face of a young man with smooth black hair and unblemished pale skin.

  Wickedness housed in a single grin crossed his face. His black eyes simmered in a stew of hatred. He brooded over what he would do to Kreios. The smile pulled taut. He contested with voices in his mind about what would be done with the girl, and as he did, hellish light flashed in his expression. So much enjoyment awaited him. He would try to savor it this time…and Kreios could watch.

  Chapter XXX

  The three angels silently but speedily packed their small camp, burying the fire and anything else that might leave a trail. Kreios knew they had been spotted, but he didn’t want to throw any bones to the dogs. Since they had a Shadower with them, he knew that the Brotherhood could only track them by following their physical trail—if they left one.

  Kreios glanced at Maria, then Zedkiel. Maria was obviously exhausted at this point, but travel was a necessary evil. No amount of rest would rejuvenate her until she delivered the baby. She needed skilled help for the remainder of her pregnancy or she could die along with her baby.

  Zedkiel had made a decision. “No need to worry about hiding the camp. We must take to the sky and hope that Yamanu can hide us from the surveillance of the Seer.” He shoved the last of the deer jerky into his pack, tied the drawstring, and slung it over his shoulder. His face was drawn tight with worry, but when Kreios smiled he loosened up; bringing back the sparkle in his eyes.

  Yamanu cut in. “Do not be troubled, my old friends. I am as strong as I ever have been, and with the presence of the Sword of Light, I am even more powerful. The enemy hordes will have been wandering in the woods for days by the time they realize we are gone.” He snapped his fingers and dark dust floated in the air, shedding foggy blackness. Whenever he moved it fell off his body to the ground.

  Kreios was itching to go. “The time for talking has now passed us by. We must move. I can feel the army over the nearest rise to the west, and they are moving fast. It will be impossible to fight them in the air while also keeping my daughter and Maria safe. It will leave us outnumbered, with too much distraction from the fight.” Kreios was a practical mind but now he seemed like he had no sense of humor at all. The message was received. This was not a game.

  Zedkiel took Maria in his arms and Kreios hugged his baby girl tight to him. He could smell her skin. It was intoxicating. She smelled like sweet lavender with a hint of something that Kreios could not determine—it was not like anything he had ever smelled. But it was the most wonderful scent in the world.

  Kreios sent the horses away with a glance and placed his daughter carefully in her little sling. The magnificent war horses hid themselves deep in the wood, far from where any man would trod.

  The angels rose from the ground in battle formation: Kreios on point, Zedkiel at his right hand and Yamanu on his left, already difficult to see. The air was cool under the brightness of a full moon. A touch of spring could already be felt, a prophecy of hope to them.

  Kreios looked to the west. The unholy flicker of war torches greeted his gaze. Black and gray mist hovered around the airborne cluster of angels like fingers of dark smoke, masking them in shadow. They quickly faded into the night sky.

  Turning north and soaring like eagles on desert updrafts, the travelers coasted gracefully toward a City to which they had never been. They hoped and prayed it did exist. But something they all felt was that it might not be easy to find.

  The sword grew warm against Kreios’s back as if it knew the way home and would lead them. He breathed in a sigh of relief mixed with hesitation. The sword had a definite connection to his daughter—he could feel that very clearly, though he was not sure why. It was difficult to see and perceive the truth after so recently losing the only woman he would ever love; and so bitterly, so unexpectedly.

  He wondered almost aloud what this connection was and what role the Seer might play as well. These questions, and more, bothered him as they soared northward. He would not rest until he was sure that they were safe; in the safest place on earth.

  Chapter XXXI

  Boi
se, Idaho. Present day.

  When the door opened and I saw Michael Alexander stand up stiffly, I stood paralyzed, hoping with everything in me that what I feared was not happening, that this was all just a bad dream. He was staring at me with an unsettling mixture of awe and disbelief.

  “Your head... the…” His voice was soft, questioning and scared. “It’s gone, I mean it just disappeared!” He reached out, muttering something incoherent, trying to touch my forehead. But I ducked and took a step backward. He lowered his eyebrows and folded his arms across his chest.

  “Airel—”

  My mind refused to function. Despite the fact that I needed it more than ever at this very moment, it hid like a stupid kid on his first day of school, refusing to come out from under the bed. Should I pretend that I didn’t know what was happening? Play innocent? Or should I fess up to the only person I was comfortable fessing up to about this subject? Why can’t I let myself bring Kim in on all this? But with him… I looked at the gorgeous guy standing before me. Maybe I knew deep down that he would understand it... or me. If that was possible. There was no getting around it, though—I was a turncoat. A backstabbing fiend, for sure, because I was totally trashing the feelings of my best friend for…some dude…

  I reached a trembling hand to my forehead and touched the place where, seconds ago, a large goose-egg throbbed. It was smooth, cool to the touch. Healed.

  I stood there with my best impression of a confused, blank look on my face. I looked up at Michael, who was standing so close to me now that I could smell his skin.

  “I, uh…” The brilliant words that flowed from my lips in that moment would have made the great poets of the world stop, slack-jawed, and gaze at me in wonder and amazement at the brilliance of my answer. Michael had a tentative hand on my forehead and touched ever so gently the spot where my fatty welt used to be.