by S. J. West
“So everything is working out with your Malcolm?” I ask, remembering that, right before I left, Brand and this reality’s Malcolm had just agreed to become allies.
“Surprisingly, yes,” Brand replies. “He’s the main reason we’ve been able to keep our headquarters here. He makes sure that we’re not bothered, and gives us information when he can. However, he can’t exactly tell us everything he knows, or he would be found out as the source of our information. He’s been able to choose the information we need to know to keep us safe while we try to fight against Ravan and Lucian’s control over the world.”
“How did Ravan come to have so much power?” Mason asks. “When we were here last, the Watchers were in charge.”
“After the Earthquake of 2032,” Brand begins, “the world was in even more turmoil than usual. No part of the world was left unscathed from its effects. Somehow, they were able to center the strength of the quake in the Middle East. Now that we know that the princes are the ones opening the seals, I would have to say it was opened in that part of the world and simply spread out from there like a tidal wave of destruction. Most cities around the world, big and small, are in horrible shape, politically and economically. At the time, Ravan Draeke was Secretary General of what was left of NATO. She was able to show strength when the world needed it the most. Ravan was also able to bring all of the Watcher Chancellors to the negotiation table. The Watchers signed a peace treaty, allowing each country to form a new government to take care of the destruction the earthquake caused, and provide for the people who were displaced by it. The Watchers were assigned positions of power within the newly-formed governments. Ravan ran uncontested for the presidency of the United States. Since then, she’s been the one all of the other leaders of the world turn to for advice and guidance in running their own nations.”
“So, basically, she’s the one ruling the world,” I say.
Brand nods. “Yes.”
“And Lucian and the others are controlling her,” I sigh.
Brand nods again. “Most definitely.”
“People think things have changed,” Josh says, “but nothing really changed. We just have a new target that is harder to get to because the general population sees her as their savior.”
“Now that we know the princes are opening the seals,” Brand says contemplatively, “we can sort of anticipate what’s going to happen next.”
“Keep in mind,” I caution, “that God isn’t the one opening the seals. He said their effects would be slightly different because the princes are forcing them open. Not everything that was written in the Book of Revelation will happen as it was prophesied.”
Brand nods his understanding. “Yes, of course. Well, let’s see what we do know. Obviously, the first seal has been broken. I think the earthquake was just a catalyst to help Ravan rise to power. The second seal was opened not long after, because civil unrest caused wars to break out virtually everywhere. Food was in very short supply, which made people act out of desperation. It was said that over three billion people died during that first year after the quake because of riots, disease, and starvation. It could be that they opened the second and third seals together to compound their effects. Eventually, Ravan was able to bring food production back online in almost every country. That pretty much cemented her place in the hearts of every person in the world.”
“I’m sure they wanted to paint a picture of Ravan as the ultimate problem-solver,” Mason says. “There’s no better way to get people behind you than to keep them safe and fed.”
“Which is why they implemented the curfews,” Josh tells us. “No one is allowed out after nightfall. It cuts down on the riots, and anyone caught out is immediately imprisoned.”
“Who or what is Ravan? Is she human?” I ask.
“As far as we can tell she is,” Brand says, but I hear a note of doubt in his voice. “We haven’t been able to get very close to her in order to do a full examination. Lucian and Gabriel keep her well-protected.”
“There was talk about a group of resistance fighters attacking her convoy,” I say. “I assume that was your group?”
Brand nods. “Yes. We’ve tried to capture her on numerous occasions, but all of our attempts have failed thus far. If we could somehow contain her, Lucian and the others wouldn’t be able to use her as their mouthpiece anymore.”
I hear the door to Brand’s sanctuary open, and a familiar giggle fills the room, lifting my spirits.
“Oh, Mon Ami, I can’t get over how much you look like our Isaiah!” JoJo says as she steps into the room.
I leave my spot by the kitchen island with Mason and Leah close behind me. JoJo and Gabe walk through the door, following this world’s versions of Isaiah and Baruch. I still have a hard time reconciling the fact that this world’s Baruch is on the side of good, but it’s definitely better than the alternative.
Seeing Isaiah, even if he isn’t my one-time mentor, and the exact same man who became someone I considered a friend, makes me happy. Our Isaiah sacrificed his life to save Chandler and me from the hands of Baal and Levi. As I look at his counterpart, I hope he’s never forced into a similar situation because of me.
“Mes Amis!” JoJo says when she sees us.
JoJo politely pushes past Isaiah and Baruch. Leah, JoJo, and I share a group hug while Mason and Gabe shake hands.
“Where did you end up?” Mason asks Gabe.
“Isolated spot in Central Park,” Gabe answers.
“We figured if you and Jess were placed there last time,” Isaiah says, “it was possible some of your group might end up there also. Luckily, we found them easily. There aren’t many people out at this time of night, and their voices carried.”
“Any news about the others?” JoJo asks as she pulls away.
“Not yet,” I tell her, trying to hide my worry for our friends. My one solace is that I know their outfits can conceal them in case they run into danger.
“It’s good to see you again, Jess,” Isaiah says to me, holding out his hand for me to shake.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” I tell him, shaking his hand.
“And look at you!” Baruch says, giving Leah a big bear hug. “It’s almost like you’ve grown up overnight.”
Leah laughs as Baruch takes a step back from her.
“It’s been five years, Baruch,” Leah says with a shy smile as he gazes at her just as proud as any father would.
“Well, it’s obvious your Earth has been treating you well. I’m sure the boys are beating down your door to date you.”
“I’ve got a steady boyfriend,” Leah says quietly, as if she hopes Baruch drops the subject.
“And what is Mr. Lucky’s name?” Baruch asks innocently, obviously not noticing Leah’s sudden discomfort about the details of her love life.
“Joshua,” Leah says so low even I have a hard time hearing her, and I’m standing right beside her.
“Who?” Baruch asks with a turn of his head so his right ear is facing her more, hoping to catch what she said on the second try.
Leah clears her throat and says in a rush, “Joshua.”
Baruch’s eyes briefly glance behind Leah to the Josh of this world.
“Ahh,” he says, deciding not to make any further comment on the subject when he notices how uncomfortable both Leah and Josh now look.
I hear a phone ring, which automatically makes everyone look back at Brand. As he grabs his phone from the kitchen counter, I see his eyebrows furrow when he looks at the screen.
“Noel,” he says to the caller, “what’s wrong?”
It’s apparent by his words that this Noel’s call is unexpected.
A slow, understanding smile stretches Brand’s lips.
“Ok, calm down,” Brand says to her. “We’ll be over there in just a minute to handle him.” Brand listens to something else Noel has to say, and begins to chuckle. “Well, what more would you expect from someone who is exactly like him? Try to stay calm, and we’ll be right
there to take him off your hands.”
Brand ends the call and places his phone in his right pants pocket.
“Seems we’ve found two more of your friends,” Brand tells us. “Your Malcolm was confused for our Malcolm and taken to the penthouse our Malcolm lives in.”
“Did this Noel person find him?” I ask.
“Noel Cross is a Watcher who works for Malcolm. We’ve been using her as a liaison between Malcolm and me to deflect any suspicion that we’re working together. Officially, she’s his personal secretary. It seems that your Malcolm was found with another man, named Chandler. I assume he’s one of the vessels?”
“Yes,” Mason answers. “His Archangel is Chamuel.”
“We should probably get over there,” Brand suggests. “Noel isn’t known for her patience, and, apparently, your Malcolm is testing what little she possesses.”
“Sounds like Malcolm,” I mutter.
“Is it the same penthouse we were taken to the last time we visited?” Mason asks Brand.
“Yes, it’s the same one.”
Mason holds out his hand to me, and I take it.
“We’ll meet you there,” Mason tells Brand.
As Mason phases us, I begin to wonder what it will be like to have two Malcolms on one Earth.
The only word that pops into my mind is ‘trouble’.
And he causes all, the small and the great, and the rich and the poor, and the free men and the slaves, to be given a mark on their right hand or on their forehead, and he provides that no one will be able to buy or to sell, except the one who has the mark, either the name of the beast or the number of his name.…
Revelation 13:16-17
CHAPTER SEVEN
The moment we phase into the home of this world’s Malcolm, I hear a woman say, “You shouldn’t be playing with that!”
Mason and I are standing in the polished, dark wood entryway, which provides an excellent view of the entire living room. A large stone fireplace takes up most of the far wall we’re facing. The last time I was here, I remember thinking that it was large enough to roast a whole cow in, if you really wanted to. To the left of us is a glass wall, which displays the New York City skyline like a picture in a frame. When Mason and I came here on our first visit, we were summoned to these very same quarters to meet this Earth’s Malcolm.
Now, our Malcolm stands in front of the glass wall in almost the same exact spot as the other one did years ago. A very pretty, yet agitated, young woman is pointing a stern finger at Malcolm as if he’s a child she has to scold. The Watcher is about my height, with straight, black hair that reaches down to the middle of her back. Her skin is a golden brown color, and she’s wearing a black military-style uniform similar to the ones I’ve seen others wearing since my return.
Malcolm tosses a small glass sculpture of a wolf in his left hand as he watches the woman with an amused smile on his face.
“It’s just a bauble,” Malcolm contends, continuing to toss the sculpture. “I don’t know why you’re getting your panties in such a wad, Asael.”
“My name is Noel here,” the second female Watcher I’ve seen curtly informs Malcolm.
Malcolm tosses the sculpture just a bit higher than before. Noel quickly snatches it out of the air before it has a chance to land back in his hand.
“You weren’t chosen to be a Watcher in my reality,” Malcolm tells her as he scrutinizes Noel’s appearance in an appraising manner. “What made you choose a female form anyway? Not that it isn’t nice and all, but none of the Watchers in the Origin chose to be female.”
“I noticed that human men could easily be inspired by the women in their lives,” Noel says, placing the glass sculpture in her hand on top of the closed baby grand piano they’re standing alongside. “I’ve been able to influence the decisions of powerful and talented men without them even realizing it.”
I could well imagine Noel’s beauty inspiring the men she chose to help as a Watcher. During the years we’ve been together, Mason has told me countless times that I’ve been his strength when he thought he had none left. Some people view women as the weaker sex because we aren’t as physically strong as most men. Anyone who actually believes that is a fool.
“Wow,” I hear Brand say beside me, “he really does look exactly like our Malcolm. Same exact arrogance and scraggly long hair.”
Brand’s words cause Malcolm and Noel to look in our direction, ending my silent scrutiny of their conversation.
“Thank God the two of you are here,” Chandler says, standing from one of the couches situated in front of the fireplace and walking over to us. “I wasn’t sure if I could take much more of their bickering. It’s like being in the same room with two rabid dogs.”
Chandler walks up to us and gives me a hug.
“I’m glad to see you made it here in one piece,” I tell him, tightening my arms around him briefly before letting go.
Since we met, Chandler has filled the role of the little brother I never had but was always meant to have. Of all of the vessels, I’ve continually felt a bit more protective of him and Leah. Not because either of them are weaker than the rest of us, but because they invoke my nurturing side more than the others. They are both idealists in many ways, always seeing the bright side of any situation, no matter how bleak it might be. I want to make sure that particular quality in their personalities always remains a part of them.
“I wasn’t sure I was in one piece when we first got here,” Chandler admits. “I remember you telling me traveling through the Tear felt like your body was being sucked through a straw, but I just thought you were over-exaggerating. Now, I know you weren’t. Is it going to hurt like that on the way back home?”
“Afraid so,” I hate to inform him.
Chandler visibly grimaces.
“Oh, it wasn’t that bad,” Malcolm says as he and Noel walk over to join us. “I’ve felt pain much worse than that and lived to tell the tale.”
“Yeah, well, we can’t all be immortal,” Chandler quips. “Some of us are just human.”
“Even for a human, you seem overly weak,” Malcolm states arrogantly.
“Enough,” I say, stopping an argument before it has a chance to start. “You and I need to have a talk later,” I tell Malcolm, intending to find the underlying cause of why he is always picking fights with Chandler. There has to be a reason. I’m just not seeing it. I decide to focus my attention on Noel. “Thank you for taking care of them for us. We appreciate your help.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Noel says. “When the guards saw this Malcolm walking on the street, they automatically assumed he was this world’s Malcolm. Thankfully, I intercepted their report and instructed the guards to bring them here before anyone else was notified.”
“Odd,” a new but familiar voice says, “I always saw myself as being a bit more ruggedly handsome.”
Standing by the glass wall now is the Malcolm from this world. He’s dressed in a black silk shirt, opened at the front, and tight-fitting black slacks. His long hair is down and partly draped across the front of his shoulders. He’s staring directly at our Malcolm with undisguised curiosity.
Our Malcolm stares back at his mirror image, narrowing his eyes.
“So did I,” Malcolm replies. “How incredibly disappointing.”
“You both look exactly the same,” I say, confused why either of them would be disillusioned by the other’s appearance.
“Are you sure?” they ask in unison, both sounding as though they want me to choose which one of them is better looking.
“I could have sworn I looked more devilishly handsome,” my Malcolm tells me. “Maybe if we stand side by side, you can tell the difference.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Mason warns both Malcolms. “We have no way of knowing what will happen if the two of you touch. One of you could disappear, or both of you could cease to exist.”
“That must be what Lucian was warning Lucifer about,” I say. “When L
ucifer held my sword to Lucian’s throat, it crackled with electricity, suggesting that the connection between them was dangerous.”
“Then keep your distance,” this world’s Malcolm tells ours. “I love myself too much to risk non-existence.”
As I look between the two Malcolms, I decide on something just to keep my own sanity intact.
“You,” I say pointing to this reality’s Malcolm. “While we’re here we’re going to be calling you ‘Xavier’ so we don’t get the two of you confused. It’s bad enough that we have two Lucifers in this reality, but at least most of you call him Lucian now.”
“Don’t have much of a choice in the matter,” Xavier tells me. “Lucifer decided to come out of hiding when Ravan rose to power. He couldn’t exactly be known as Lucifer to the rest of the world, so he decided everyone should call him Lucian.”
“Smart choice, considering the stigma associated with the name Lucifer,” I reply.
“I’m fine with being called ‘Xavier’,” the other Malcolm says. “It is my middle name, after all, and I certainly don’t want to be confused with that one.”
“That one?” Malcolm questions crossly, sounding offended. “You do realize that I’m the original version of us. You’re just a copy.”
“A better copy, if you ask me,” Xavier says smugly.
“Only inside that pea-sized brain of yours,” Malcolm taunts.
“Seriously?” I ask, looking between the both of them. “The two of you are exactly the same in every way, from your looks to your childish desire to be the best. Get over yourselves. We have more important things to do than debate which one of you is better-looking.”
“There is no debate,” Malcolm says stubbornly.
“There certainly isn’t,” Xavier replies, looking just as resolute in his own opinion.
“Jess is right,” Brand says. “We need to sit down and have a talk about what we know and what I just learned from Jess and Mason about the princes of Hell in their world. Let’s stow the egos for the moment, gentlemen, and concentrate on saving our world from total annihilation.”