“Liam, I know ya can hear me.”
Colm’s words drew no response.
The anxious angels rustled their wings. The nervous men rustled the leaves beneath their boots as they shifted their stance.
How can I save him from the death that awaits him? Colm thought. There must be something that can counteract the poisonous evil that’s killing his spirit. But what is that? Over thousands and thousands of years, we haven’t been capable of understanding the cure.
Michael thought about Colm’s description of the impressions left behind by the souls of the men who once dwelled in the angels’ human vessels. Palimpsest. Some of us are beginning to experience it, and we can’t control it.
That had to be what drove Liam to disobey Colm. It would explain his odd behavior. Michael dropped to his knees beside Liam and unfurled his wings. The tips of the delicate feathers brushed Liam’s dirty bloody face.
“That’s why ya disobeyed Colm, wasn’t it?” Michael said to Liam. “Ya showed Abigail Adams ya angelic spirit because he wanted to please her.”
Michael’s exclamation shot searing guilt through Colm’s spirit. Liam didn’t deserve to be forsaken, if indeed, his palimpsest had taken control. No, that’s not true. What he did didn’t warrant a death sentence at all. Joseph tried to tell me, and I wouldn’t listen.
The militiamen quietly watched the angels. Patrick’s and Michael’s auras were a brilliant blue light in the shadowed woods. Seamus’ aura cast glittering purple light over the horse, making it look like a mythical creature.
I have to rekindle Liam’s aura or he’ll be dead in a matter of hours, Colm thought. At least I can give him more time. But how do I do that without killing him or myself? How do I do that without searing our spirits?
“Close ya eyes, Liam. Think about Abigail Adams and hold on to her tight,” Colm whispered.
Liam’s hooded eyes closed. Abigail’s voice stroked his subconscious: “The idea of your angelic spirit is enthralling. I so want to see and feel it.”
He heard the echo of his reply: “Abigail, what you are asking of me is the same as asking me to expose my spirit and walk naked in front of you.”
Colm released his green aura and golden radiance and held them close to keep his spirit and his power concentrated near his body. His angelic power began to spin in a tight ball of light no bigger than a man’s fist.
Michael tried not to sound panicked. “What are ya doing?”
The ball spun faster and faster. Colm pulled it in a little closer to his body.
Seamus’ spirit seized painfully with trepidation, and his wings involuntarily unfurled.
“WHAT ARE YA DOING?” Michael shouted at Colm.
The green light of Colm’s aura and the gold radiance shot out from the ball in different directions. The unprecedented act he had committed out of desperation excruciated his spirit. He clenched his teeth and held his breath.
“NO, COLM! NO!” Michael screamed.
Electrical currents of gold lightning incited the woods. The men watching the angels experienced the effects of static electricity. It raised the hairs on their forearms and the back of their necks. They fled from Heaven’s vehement violence.
The horse reared in terror. Jeremiah released the reins. The horse bolted toward the road.
Seamus screamed, “JEREMIAH, RUN! NOW!”
Jeremiah already felt electrical combustion building in his body. He ran east through the woods.
Michael took Colm by the shoulders and shook him. “STOP IT! STOP IT!”
Colm’s eyes rolled back in his head as he tightened his grip on Liam’s shoulders.
Liam’s eyes opened. Blood dripped from the wound on his forehead. Liam’s green aura sparked and flickered.
Colm lost control of his aura and screamed in agony. It is what I deserve for abandoning my men in their time of need and for leaving Joseph to face demons without my protection. It is what I deserve for failing to prevent Michael, Ian, Seamus, and the Grigori angels from copulating with human women.
Michael slapped Colm’s face. “STOP IT!”
“LET GO OF LIAM, COLM! HE’S CONSCIOUS!” Seamus screamed.
Michael slapped Colm’s face again.
Patrick clutched his brother’s upper arms and shook him. “SEAMUS, MAKE COLM STOP!”
Seamus jammed his hands into Liam’s underarms and tried to jerk him away from Colm’s grasp.
Michael wrapped his arms around Colm’s waist, pulled him backwards, and shouted, “Patrick, help me!”
Patrick threw his body between Liam and Colm, wrapped his legs around Liam’s waist, and thrust their bodies to the ground. Seamus dragged Liam backward, breaking Colm’s grip.
The fragments of Colm’s aura that rekindled Liam’s aura flashed and then went out. Liam issued a long moan. He looked at Patrick.
“Why are you laying on me?” Liam asked.
“It worked,” Patrick said with a small smile. “Whatever he did worked. I cain see your aura. It’s bright and strong. You look right!”
Liam and Patrick heard Michael say, “I won’t leave ya.”
Patrick got off Liam. They crawled toward Colm. Michael scooted in closer to his brother so the other angels could sit beside their archangel.
Colm lay on his back. He shook violently, unable to control the agony his spirit was suffering. His gold radiance swept through the woods like a flock of birds. Its amplitude was diminished by the loss of its other half—its spiritual light. It swirled and rose and dived as it coalesced with the scattered pieces of Colm’s aura.
Seamus got up and watched the woods for demons. If Colm was attacked by a demon in the condition he was in, it could kill him.
The angels waited with trepidation for Colm’s fate.
Liam had no memory of being attacked by demons or anything that ensued, yet he thought, I am responsible for this.
Colm’s palimpsest tried to soothe him with a memory of his little brother. Michael was only five years old when ya taught him how to hunt with a bow and arrow. Ya mother said he was too little to handle the weapon. But Michael pleaded with ya to teach him how to use it. Ya have never been able to say no to him. He loves ya. For that reason alone, ya will survive this.
When the energy of the archangel’s aura and power were rejoined as one, it flew home and roosted in his vessel.
Twenty-five
Concord, Massachusetts
Ian’s mouth was dry and his eyeballs hurt when he opened his eyes. He smelled his own body odor, and something puzzling—his own semen.
It took a disconcerted moment for him to understand that he was lying in bed, and the probable reason he smelled semen. He was naked. He lay there thinking about the fading dream of Sidonie, human death, and a wife and children. Then, it slipped from his mind like the sun setting below the horizon. When it was gone, he felt spiritually exhausted.
Dim sunlight filtered through the curtains. He slid out of bed and searched the small shadowed bedroom for his clothes and boots. He found them piled in a corner beside a ladder back chair. When he reached to pick up his clothes, he became dizzy. He sat in the chair and lowered his head into his hands.
I’m going to faint. No, I’m going vomit. Bile rushed into his throat. He vomited on the floor between his feet.
The bedroom door opened, and then closed.
Ian vomited again. He looked up at the people who had entered the bedroom.
“Brandon? Samuel?” Ian asked, bewildered.
The relief Brandon felt when he saw Ian sitting in the chair was doused when Ian’s red aura blinked weakly.
Samuel Prescott pulled a handkerchief from his vest pocket. He offered it to Ian.
Ian took it, and wiped his face and mouth. “Where am I?” he asked.
“In Concord, at the Barrett farm,” Samuel said.
“Where Sidonie lives? Is she here?”
“Yes.”
Ian gagged. When he was sure he wasn’t going to vomit again, he reached down and p
lucked his coat from his pile of clothes.
“How are you feeling?” Samuel asked.
Ian remembered Joseph asking Michael that same confusing question. He dismissed it. Ian held his coat up so he could see it. The shredded coat was covered in gunpowder, dirt, leaves, and streaks of blood. He threw it on the floor. Why am I so tired?
Brandon saw Ian’s exhaustion. The demon had gotten to his spirit after all.
Ian picked up his breeches and asked, “Who undressed me?”
“Sidonie did,” Samuel said. “Brandon realized that she could help you by bedding you. You told me that same thing at Dr. Warren’s house when I was in so much pain from my injuries. You told me to let Lydia ease my pain.”
Ian looked at his filthy breeches, and then glanced down at his coat. “What happened? Why am I so dirty?”
Samuel sat on the bed and asked, “You don’t remember?”
Ian’s strange dream slid through his mind. He tried to hold on to it, but it slipped from his grasp.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Brandon asked Ian.
Ian’s brow furrowed. “William Dawes coming to the farm, but I don’t remember why he was there.”
Brandon said, “Ian, get dressed. I need to get you to Colm so he can take care of you.”
“I want to get a bath and see Sidonie first,” Ian said. He was dizzy again. He put his head in his hands.
“I’ll fetch her,” Brandon said.
He found Sidonie in the living room with Rebeckah Barrett. Rebeckah’s stare made him uncomfortable, and he struggled for a moment to avoid rustling his wings. Then he said to Sidonie, “He’s awake, and asking for you.”
She rose from her chair.
Brandon touched her hand. “He may be dying. Do you understand what dead means to an angel?”
“Yes. His spirit is chained in eternal darkness.”
“He is a spirit. The human man you see isn’t Ian. If his spirit is chained, he is chained.”
Tears welled in Sidonie’s eyes.
“Go to him. Wash him. He’s unhappy about being dirty, but don’t take long. Ian needs Colm.”
“I’ll gather the things I need.” She ran from the room as tears spilled down her cheeks.
Samuel walked into the living room. Brandon drew him aside and whispered, “Sidonie may have awakened his spirit, but the demon that attacked him has damaged it. Ian’s aura is very weak.”
“Is there nothing I can do for him? He comforted me when I was hurt and in distress. I wish to return that comfort.”
Brandon smiled. “You are returning that comfort by staying with him and offering your friendship.”
Rapping on the front door startled everyone in the living room.
Brandon cloaked his aura, slid his hand into his coat pocket, and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of Ian’s dagger. Rebeckah forced a calm expression on her face. Samuel strode across the room and threw the door open.
A young Pokanoket man stood on the porch. His head was completely shaved except for a scalplock. He wore English clothing—boots, breeches, and a linen shirt—that covered the tattoo of a turtle on his shoulder and a bear paw on each breast. The butt of the long rifle in his hand rested on the porch.
“Tatoson!” Samuel exclaimed.
Rebeckah Barrett relaxed. Brandon did likewise.
“Why are you in Concord when there has been fighting all morning?” Samuel asked.
“That is why I am here. Your alarm about the approaching British spread far beyond Concord.” Tatoson smiled broadly. “I joined Colonel Barrett’s militia this morning. He told me you were here tending to Silas.”
Samuel’s father, Abel, had taken Tatoson in under his care when the British killed most of the ten-year-old Pokanoket boy’s tribe during the French and Indian War. Tatoson and Samuel spent their formative years as brothers.
Rebeckah said nothing to Tatoson nor did she invite him inside. She knew the young man would not enter her home under any circumstances, nor would she allow his entry despite his association with Dr. Prescott.
Samuel glanced at Brandon, then stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him. “Silas Barrett will recover from his fever. I am not so certain about the angel who Sidonie is caring for as we speak.”
Tatoson raised an eyebrow. “One of the mountain man’s angels?”
Samuel nodded. “Would you consider helping Brandon O’Flynn take the angel, Ian Keogh, back to their farm in Roxbury? Brandon is an angel, as well. He is very worried about Ian. It would be a kind gesture if you would accompany him. I assure you that Brandon will tell you the truth of what happened to Ian.”
“You believe the angels need protection.”
“I do….” Samuel glanced over his shoulder and whispered, “…from the demons crawling the countryside.”
Tatoson’s brown eyes studied Samuel’s sincere but fearful expression. He knew that Samuel would never speak of demons unless he believed in his own words.
When Sidonie entered the dim bedroom, Ian was struggling with his latest bout of dizziness. He threw up what little was left in his stomach.
She had never seen him in a state of vulnerability. The motherly instincts that she had not had a chance to nurture rushed like a waterfall of emotion from her soul. The water in the basin she held in her arms, rippled as she placed it on the bed. She straddled the spreading pool of Ian’s vomit and stood in front of him.
Ian threw his arms around her waist and pulled her close. He rested his head on her stomach. She stroked his filthy matted hair.
“Why am I so dirty?” Ian asked.
She slid her hands under his cleft chin and raised his head.
Pale blue eyes met pale blue eyes.
She would let Brandon explain the horrors of the battle in Lexington, and the demon attack. Her place was to care for the angel she loved.
“I will wash the dirt away,” she said.
I’m feeling so much worse than when I first awakened, Ian thought. He tightened his arms around Sidonie’s waist.
She gently removed his arms from her waist, and urged him to stand. Then she led him to the bedside and washed the dirt from his face and neck. Drops of water rolled down his chest and wet the small patch of hair between his breasts. He shivered.
“My clothes are filthy. I can’t wear them,” he said.
Sidonie kissed his lips. “And you shall not wear them, my love. I brought clean clothing.”
Ian had never heard her say ‘my love’. Is she referring to me as love? He wondered. Deep in his memory, he heard another woman say, “I love you, Ian.” Her voice was familiar.
After Sidonie had washed and dressed her beloved angel, she opened the bedroom door and called for Samuel and Brandon. When they entered the bedroom, Ian was shivering and sweating. He reached out blindly for Sidonie.
She gathered him in her arms, and pressed his body against hers. If you die, I die, she thought. I thought I was afraid of dying, but now I know I am not. I am afraid of your death, and your suffering.
“It is time for Brandon to take you to Colm,” she whispered.
Thousands of millennia with his archangel had conditioned Ian’s spirit to look for comfort within Colm’s spirit. Yes, he needed Colm. He needed his brotherhood.
Brandon put his hands on Ian’s cheeks and kissed his forehead. That comfort gave Ian the strength to walk out of the dim bedroom. Brandon led Ian from the house.
Tatoson brought around the horses.
Brandon helped Ian into the saddle. Then, he jumped into the saddle in front of Ian.
Rebeckah, Sidonie, and Samuel walked out of the house and onto the front porch.
Samuel went to speak to Ian.
Ian looked at him with tired pale blue eyes.
Samuel said, “You will get through this. Think of Sidonie, and know she loves you. Think of me, and know I am your friend.”
Colonel Smith’s column moved through the ranks of Lord Hugh Percy’s brigade and found shelt
er around Munroe’s Tavern east of the green. With Percy’s regiment forming a shield and marksmen sniping at rebels who ventured too close, Percy ordered all buildings burned that offered cover for rebel gunfire.
Percy saw this as a militarily sound decision. His troops saw this as an opportunity to plunder homes as they burned. The infuriated rebel sharpshooters were indeed driven from the cover of those buildings, but the destruction only drove them down the road to Menotomy.
Lord Percy inspired the British by riding through their scarred ranks. He permitted his troops to share their rations with Smith’s besieged men as they rested for thirty minutes along the roadside around Munroe’s Tavern.
With satisfaction that he had offered necessary relief to the exhausted regulars, Percy held a conference with his regimental commanders, as well as, Colonel Smith and Major Pitcairn.
“This shall be the order of march,” Lord Percy said. “I want the overly fatigued companies of grenadiers and infantry to move off first. My brigade will cover them.”
“I request that my grenadier companies march in the van,” Colonel Smith said. “They have suffered less than the infantrymen; therefore, they can also provide cover.”
This meant that Captain Mundy Pole of the grenadier company that had guarded the South Bridge in Concord would go first. Lord Percy allowed it.
As the British fell into formation and marched from Lexington, the rebel forces dogged them along the road from every direction despite the flankers deployed by Lord Percy.
Henry and Robert remained among the rear guard. If Henry’s human vessel arrived in Charlestown intact, Robert would perform the necessary ritual to make General Henry Hereford’s body a permanent vessel for the demon leader.
On the rebel side, command above the regimental level was introduced by the arrival of Major Fergus Driscoll and his militia. When they arrived near Lexington, Fergus engaged in re-forming a rebel regiment that had been scattered by Lord Percy’s artillery.
He had expected to see Colm and the brotherhood among the two thousand rebels. He realized that within such a large number of men, spotting the angels would be difficult, but he expected that Colm, at the least, would seek him out.
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