CHAPTER 40
“No need to worry. I’m going to eat it all,” Horatius said. Billy watched every spoonful of soup Horatius put into his mouth, not allowing him to pause for even a moment.
They were in the church’s barn. Stacked sheaves of straw served as a backrest for Horatius. Vicar John had given the stable over to them to sleep and recover.
After sleep and hot food, Horatius felt much less near death. But Billy didn’t seem to believe he was any better, the way he hovered and protected him.
“As soon as I finish this, we will go find the priest. Too much time has passed,” Horatius said.
Billy fidgeted making Horatius wonder what he wanted to say that he wasn’t saying.
“What? What is on your wee mind?”
Billy squirmed some more. He scrunched his face, thinking hard before he spoke. Then it all came out in a rush like one long word. “Who is Satarel? And why did he touch your heart? What does that even mean? And why do you say you are not like anybody else? Why do you have a curse? And why does it have such power over you that you cannot even walk? Where were you going when I found you? And what do you plan to do once the curse is broken?” He was out of breath when he finished. He waited without blinking his huge eyes.
Horatius started to set his bowl down so he could concentrate on answering Billy. But as soon as he lowered it, Billy put his hands beneath it and lifted it back toward his mouth.
“How can I eat and give you answers at the same time?”
“You have got to get your strength back.”
Horatius considered the spoon and the bowl, then lifted the dish and drained it, catching chunks of potatoes and beef as he did. He chewed and swallowed while Billy watched him with intense eyes.
He tilted the bowl to show Billy it was empty. The tension went out of Billy’s narrow shoulders and the lad relaxed back into the straw, like now that the soup was gone, all would be set right.
Horatius considered a moment what to say. “Satarel—well, he is a demon.” Billy did not flinch. “We were in a pitched battle, and he had gotten the better of me. I was spent and nearly unconscious. He had his sword lifted high, ready to sever my head from my neck—something he has wanted to do for a long time—and just before he did, he reached into my being with his power and touched my—” He wanted to say soul, to make it clear, but he could not tell even a white lie to Billy. “—my innermost self, where my soul would be, if I had one.”
“But everyone has a soul.”
“No, not everyone. Some of us are not completely human. We live half in one world, half in the other. We were not given a soul.”
“Why did he touch your heart?”
“I think he was stripping any virtue out of my being, so that no chance of redemption was left for me.”
“What are you? Some kind of spirit?” Billy had such unafraid, nonjudgmental eyes, Horatius felt like he could confess a whole century’s worth of sin to him.
“Satarel—he's my…father.”
That opened Billy’s eyes. But the look held no condemnation.
“A demon? Altogether benumbing! What is that like?”
“It is awful. And don’t think anything else.”
Billy straightened out his face and made it look somber. “It must be. Just terrible.”
Billy twirled a piece of straw between two fingers. The mule snorted in a stall against the wall of the barn. “So what was the battle about? Why would a father want to chop his own son’s head off?”
Horatius leaned back into the pile of straw. Once again, he was telling the story he did not tell. The barn was part of the church’s structure, so technically he was in Sanctuary. Horatius could tell the story without worry of Billy’s thoughts giving him away.
“Once upon a time, long ago when the world was young, there was an angel in the heavens named Semjaza. He was pure and beautiful, like all the angels. He was Guardian of a certain beautiful woman on earth. And in time, he lusted after her.” Horatius paused and wondered how much he should say.
“Dinna worry,” Billy reassured him. “I know about those things. Go on.”
“Of course you do. So, he lusted after her. All he could do was think of her. And talk of her. He talked so much, he inspired others to start thinking wrongly about the women they guarded. Soon, he had over two hundred angels thinking of things other than the pure and good. They became selfish and distracted and interested in their own pleasure. They plotted. They took on the appearance of men, went onto the earth, and pursued the women they had found so beautiful. They married them. And had children with them.”
Billy sat with his legs crossed and his pointy elbows on his knees. His chin rested in his cupped hands. Other than widening his eyes, he did not move.
“They—the one mankind calls God—banned Semjaza and his faction from Paradise. None of them would be allowed to return to dwell in the light and goodness. The banished became bitter and angry, and so pursued even greater offenses. They joined Lucifer and all who had already gone with him, working against the Pure, who were Guardians, and did all manner of things to corrupt and destroy the humans the Guardians cared for.
“My father—Satarel—used to be Pure. He dwelled in light with They. And then he listened to Semjaza. He took a beautiful human for himself. And together they made me. For eons I did everything my father wanted. Everything I wanted. Anything I wanted. We were evil. But then I changed. I didn’t want to be bad anymore. And that made my father want to destroy me. More than he wanted to destroy humans.”
“What made you change?”
Horatius had to think a while. “I’m not sure what did. It was something deep inside of me. I watched the humans, those who knew They, and I saw a true joy, a contentment I had never known. They actually loves and cherishes every single human, even those that don’t know the real They. And I wanted to be loved like that, to be cherished. And by one so pure and good. Suddenly, all that pursuit of evil seemed useless and empty. I wanted more. I wanted to be like the humans.”
Billy had moved onto his knees with his feet tucked under him. He sat closer to listen better. He hardly blinked. “And that is why your father cursed you?” he asked in a guarded whisper.
“I believe so. When I decided I wanted redemption—something offered to humans—I had to leave the Brethren of Fallen. I have been trying to earn my way toward goodness. Unfortunately, I am quite poor at it. I might have done more toward my damnation than my salvation.”
“How can you work toward redemption? I thought it impossible.”
“I was helping someone. A girl. Chloe. And her friend, Kaitlyn. I have been assigned to be Chloe’s Guardian. My father is her Watcher, which is the opposite of a Guardian. He chased us down and wanted to destroy all of us. That is why I am here. The girls were who I was trying to follow when you found me. Chloe and Kaitlyn were kidnapped and I need to save them. I need to break this curse so I can help them return home.”
Now Billy was up on his knees with a hand on each of Horatius’ shoulders. “We must hurry then. We must save the lasses afore it is too late!”
Horatius loved Billy’s unquestioning allegiance.
“Any ideas on how to find the priest?” Horatius said.
“I asked around. I think I found him.” Billy sat back on his heels and rested his hands on Horatius’ knees.
“Have you been gallivanting around all alone? What happened? You were scared to death of the city.”
“You said you had every confidence in me. I took that to mean I could do what I had to do. So I did.”
Pride welled up in Horatius. It took him by surprise. “So, what did you find out?”
“First, I asked the vicar here—Vicar John—if he knew of any old priests around named Hugh. He knew of none, but he had heard of a couple of women he thought came after the Purge who lived on the other side of town. He always figured them for nuns in hiding. I went asking at the market, and I found them. They live abovestairs at a butcher’s storefron
t over on Kinnear Lane—two old sisters who filled me up full with meat pies and goats milk and wanted me to stay with them forever—altogether benumbing!—and they said they once knew a Father Hugh and thought he had come here but did not know what came of him after the Purge. But they sent me to a blacksmith who once had mentioned Father Hugh to them, so they said mayhap he had seen him. So I paid him a visit and he had heard of him. He had done some work for him and delivered some tools to him. He told me where. I know where Hugh lives. At least, where he lived six years ago.”
Horatius was impressed. “Good work, lad. But I don’t like that you have been around so much on your own.”
Billy laughed at him and went on as though it didn’t matter that Horatius didn’t like it. “I need to find some coin for us.” Billy jumped up and began pacing, rubbing his chin like he must have once seen some old man do to his whiskers.
Horatius thought about transmuting some straw into coins. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to just try a little molecular mutation.
Billy whipped around and stared at him. “What are you thinking? I can hear your wit working. I see a look in your eye. You are up to something.”
Horatius had not expected Billy to read him so well. “I was just…thinking about how to get some money.”
Billy plopped down next to him again. “Best leave this up to me. I have a plan. What if you get worse? Rest. For the lasses’ sake.”
Horatius shifted against the sheaves of straw. I am rather exhausted. After sitting up so long the weariness was back. Maybe Billy was right. Maybe it would not be such a good idea to risk getting worse. But how would Billy be able to get money?
“Dinna worry about how I will get it. I said I have a plan.” He rested his hand back on Horatius’ square knee like it belonged there.
“Be careful. You hear?”
“Dinna worry. I will be fine.” Horatius gave him a stern look and waited. “Aye, I will be careful.”
“Now don’t you go and get caught picking pockets or some such foolery.” Horatius could envision Billy out on the street getting picked up by the magistrate and never coming back.
“I would not lower myself to do crime!” He retracted his hand from Horatius’ knee. Horatius had insulted him. He straightened his spine and held his head high, like he would not consider such a deceitful path.
“You are the one who lied to the vicar and told him I was your father and that I’d fallen—”
Billy jumped up. “I did not lie! You had fallen. Fallen from grace, which is much worse than if you had fallen off Bethesda.” He stammered before he addressed the other half of the accusation. “And, anyway, you are like a da to me. The closest I remember ever having.” His little cheeks blushed red under his freckles. “So, I did not lie.” He calmed and sat back down as if his outburst had not happened. “My plan is to go to the angels in the church and ask them for the coin we need. I will be back. Dinna do anything foolhardy while you wait. Remember the lasses.”
He skittered out of the barn before Horatius had a chance to collect his reason and tell him what a crazy idea it was to go to the sentinels and ask for money.
He lay back into the straw to rest and conserve his energy. Billy had said Horatius was like a father to him. Whatever he had where others had a soul warmed. He didn’t know being thought of like that—loved?—could elicit such a reaction. Not in him. But then, no one had ever cared for him like that.
Then he thought of Chloe and Kaitlyn and where they might be. He wondered how badly Panahasi would use them to gain favor with Satarel. Had he been foolish to believe he could ever find them? That he could ever get them back and set right what had gone so wrong? Every moment they were with Panahasi, the odds worsened for the girls' rescue. Panahasi’s poison would cloud their thinking, change their allegiance, and God only knew how he would lead them to destruction. Horatius had barely had any time to prove himself to Chloe, to make her know he cared about her. He’d been too busy drinking to prove himself. It wasn’t even until their last moments together that he knew how he cared about her. He had to find them before it was too late. Oh, what a horrendous disaster he’d brought onto everyone because of his heedless, selfish pursuit.
The soup churned in his gut. What a mess I’ve made of things ever thinking I could earn redemption.
Billy scampered back into the barn. “All done. I asked the sentinels and we should be getting coin within the hour.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Horatius said. “You can’t just go in and ask for money and it plop down in front of you like a vending machine.”
Billy acted like he knew what a vending machine was. He jammed his fists onto his narrow hips. “I would think of all people, you would have more faith than that.”
He didn’t have the energy to argue.
“We need to get you up on Bethesda and get to Hugh’s. The smithy even told me he raises pigeons. From that I knew. He will do the sacrifice for us.”
“Pigeons are filthy creatures. They will not provide a pure sacrifice, even if this man will perform one for us.”
“He said ‘doves’ too, all right? Quit gainsaying everything I say. It will work out. Stop fretting about it so much. We will go there and he will do the sacrifice. You will be back to normal afore sundown.”
Can it be that easy? Hope flickered. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe he was crazy. But he was beginning to like Billy’s ridiculous perspective. Maybe they were only hours from breaking the curse and finding the girls.
Billy untied the mule from its place in the barn and brought it over by Horatius.
“Do you want me to go get Vicar John?”
Horatius wanted to try to rise on his own. It took a lot of work, but he managed to gain his feet. He leaned on the mule to rest a moment, then before he could run out of energy, he got his leg over the beast.
Billy grinned his baby teeth up at him.
The mule cooperated fully and Billy led it from the barn. The midmorning sun met them when they emerged and started up the street. Many villagers were out and about, some pulling carts to set up on Market Street. Others had animals or small children, going about their daily routine while herding their charges.
Now that Billy had acclimated to the bustling city, he walked with his head high and his gait as long as his short legs would allow. Seeing his transformation, plus feeling the warmth of the sun on his head, encouraged Horatius. Maybe all was not hopeless.
Billy led the mule and Horatius through the streets, weaving like a pro among the inhabitants selling their wares and perusing the stands. A commotion rose a lane or two away. A swarm of riders on horseback came pounding into the street. The riders yelled and shook their fists at everyone in their path. Screaming, people fled to the safety of the buildings. One cart flipped and spilled turnips when a rushing horse grazed it.
“Quick Billy. Get us out of the middle of the street!”
Billy grabbed the mule’s bit and pulled. The beast yanked in the other direction, ripping its bit out of Billy’s hand. The force threw Billy away from the onslaught but put Horatius directly in the path of the oncoming horsemen. Bethesda stood fast and brayed.
Horatius threw up his arms and roared, hoping to transmute the horses into cats, but nothing happened except the riders got two horse-lengths closer. The clot of horseflesh suddenly broke apart. One half skimmed past Horatius. The other half veered and plowed into the sidewalk where Billy had stumbled. Horses bucked and screamed. Wood splintered as horses plowed into the front of a building. Glass crashed and shattered. Several men were unhorsed. One horse stumbled and rolled, tripping another. It slammed into what was left of the building wall. Limbs appeared to fly everywhere. The roar of breakage and horse screams and men yelling and mothers shrieking split the morning tranquility like a bomb.
“Billy!” Horatius yelled into the chaos. He twisted on the mule’s back and kicked it to turn toward where he’d last seen Billy. “Billy!” he shouted again. He couldn’t see any sign of him in the mess
.
Some men staggered up from the ground. Others didn’t get up. The downed horses scrambled to gain their footing, one obviously lame. An old man stumbled out of the damaged building swearing at everyone. Still, Horatius did not see Billy.
“Move, you blasted foul beast. Move!” he said kicking the mule with his weak, ineffective thumps. The animal turned slowly toward the mess but would not take a step closer. Two men pulled the arms of someone from the rubble. It took too many seconds to see the arms were too big to be Billy’s.
Horatius was too weak to get down off the mule and search for Billy’s body himself. And depending on the mule for his legs meant he had to stay in the middle of the street and watch the others scramble to assist the victims of the crash.
Though surely bruised and perhaps fractured, the riders, who were all surprisingly conscious, got to their feet, brushing off their dirt- and splinter-covered clothes. One bent to check the leg of his lame horse, while another mounted a different animal, which was still snorting and shaking its head. A third began to lead his horse away when the old man from the building grabbed his sleeve and pulled him around to face him.
“God’s teeth! Madmen, the lot of yeh! What is in yur thick skulls thinking yeh can race down the road full tilt in the middle of the day?”
The rider shook off his hand and pulled a pouch of money from his belt. He tossed it at the store owner, who caught it awkwardly against his middle.
“We must be off to join the Queen’s fight. Take the coin to cover the damages. We have no time.”
The rider with the lame horse abandoned his mount and jumped up behind the other and they galloped away. The man who gave the money mounted his ride and rode off after them.
“Do you see a boy? Does anyone know what happened to the boy?” Horatius shouted.
Bystanders jumped in to help and threw scraps of broken lumber and crumbled rock into a pile in the street. Bricks from the foundation were broken loose and mixed with the shredded lumber.
One man picked up a large plank of wood and reacted with horror. He yelled, “God’s teeth, come help, over here!”
Chloe's Guardian (The Nephilim Redemption Series Book 1) Page 26