Dark Angel

by Eden Maguire

  That night we had a freak storm. A warm wind came in from the east, hit the cooler mountain air and produced the whole summer spectacular – brooding blue clouds over the Bitterroot peaks that rolled down the valleys bringing lightning, thunder and blast after blast of cold rain. I lay in bed watching forks of lightning crack open the sky, waiting for the roll of thunder and hearing raindrops batter against my window pane, and just as I was picturing what it must be like to be out on Black Rock in this kind of storm, my special voice began to whisper.

  ‘Aimee, don’t cry. It’s only a storm. I’m here. I won’t let it harm you.’

  I half wanted to block it out. The wild storm had already spooked me and I wasn’t ready to take on board more messages from beyond the grave. Then again, given the current Grace–Ezra–Zoran situation, I totally needed help. So I reluctantly tuned into my voice.

  The wind rattles the window. Down below, a door bangs. The voice sounds a long way off, growing louder.

  ‘Baby, baby, don’t cry.’ The woman bends over me, her grey eyes tender.

  Thunder cracks and rumbles on towards the town. Here on Becker Hill, the wind whips through the aspens, tearing green leaves from the branches. Maia Witney holds me close.

  Lightning flashes. There’s a disconnect, like in a dream. And now I see Maia standing by the window, and there’s no infant in the room – only me and her. I blink then stare.

  She’s wearing a sky-blue tunic over jeans, silver hoop earrings, silver bracelets at her wrist. I’m trembling, I can hardly breathe.

  ‘Tania, don’t be afraid,’ she says.

  My chest tightens. There’s another clap of thunder and the rain still batters at the window.

  ‘Take my hand,’ Maia murmurs. A glow surrounds her – not moon or starlight – it’s soft and silver like nothing I’ve ever seen.

  I walk towards her, only my feet don’t touch the floor. It’s as if I’m floating as I take her insubstantial hand.

  ‘I’ve waited so long,’ she sighs. Her bracelets jingle as her fingers close over mine. ‘Ever since the fire – through the weeks, the months, the years.’

  I don’t ask who she is because I already know. And I have an all-over, tingling sensation, of my body melting away to leave me pure spirit, pure soul. Maia’s soft voice fills the room; her silver light shines. ‘You must know, Tania, that you exist as two spirits, side by side.’

  As the boundaries melt, I’m gripped again by fear. I try to withdraw my hand, but she holds me tight.

  ‘Look inside yourself,’ she insists.

  I shake my head. ‘It’s too hard. I don’t know if I even want this.’

  She gives me a sad look. ‘Yet part of you always searches. The part that is Aimee pleads for me to come.’

  I let out a sigh. It’s true – I am two spirits.

  ‘You see, you are twinned with Aimee. It’s how we all continue. We are multiple, layer upon layer.’

  Her soft, slow words gradually soothe me. ‘That night – the night of the fire, when Aimee died and I was born – that was the moment when this happened?’

  She nods and smiles. ‘I watched your father raise new timbers in the ashes, heard him work with saw and hammer. I saw you play where my child had played, with your dark hair framing your beautiful face, your eyes flecked with colours of the fall.’

  ‘And what now?’ I want to know. I realize we’ve been building to this through all my childhood dreams and fears.

  Maia’s mood changes, becomes more urgent as we share her silver light. ‘Now you must play your part,’ she confides.

  ‘Is this connected with Zoran and all the stuff at Black Rock?’

  She nods and suddenly the talk grows cosmic – so much so that, although I’ve lately begun to expect the unexpected, I’m still shocked by what she tells me.

  ‘Do you believe in evil?’ she asks.

  Immediately I see in my mind’s eye Zoran slither across the chapel floor, his snake eyes gleaming. I see him onstage, spreading his dark-angel wings. ‘Yes,’ I whisper.

  ‘Then know that the whole universe is a battleground, good versus evil. An army of fallen angels, devils in torment, is ranked against the spirits of light.’

  ‘Like you?’ I check. Of course like her – glowing, gentle and good. She doesn’t need to reply.

  No – what she wants to make me understand is the fallen angel thing. ‘They are full of hatred and the desire for revenge. Evil – evil for its own sake – drives them on.’

  Evil. I don’t know about you, but I don’t often use the word. It’s too big. Place a ‘d’ in front of it and ‘devil’ is what you get. Put into the context of what you see on the news channels, on the streets of your neighbourhood, and it’s all the murderers, rapists, assassins, war lords, ticking suicide bombers rolled into one.

  The fact is, there’s evil wherever you turn and the knowledge terrifies me. I try my best to focus and take in what Maia says.

  ‘We keep up a constant guard,’ she explains. ‘But sometimes the dark angels pierce the barrier set up to keep them out of this world.’

  I take a hard swallow as I imagine shining archangels and burning devils, their swords clashing and sparking in the dark heavens. Maybe that’s how come we see falling stars, comets trailing fiery light. ‘You’re telling me that this is what happened with Zoran?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes. He’s cunning and cruel. He forced his way back, hunting for new recruits to swell his devil army.’

  ‘You mean Grace, Oliver … me!’ I shudder. I’m sick with fear again.

  She nods. ‘So that one day, when he has claimed enough innocent souls, they – the dark angels – will outnumber the angels of light. They will have ultimate power.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And then darkness and chaos,’ she says simply. ‘All light will disappear.’

  Apocalypse. I totally see it, and it fits with everything I’ve seen on Black Rock.

  ‘Summon your strength to fight Zoran,’ Maia urges. She touches the crucifix hanging around my neck. Then she steps back.

  Devil images dance in the shadows. ‘You’re leaving!’ I realize.

  ‘Think about what I’ve told you. Arm yourself.’

  ‘Don’t go!’ I need her here, I can’t be alone.

  ‘I’m always with you,’ she promises.

  And there’s no way I can stop her. Her light fades. She’s in the shadows with the devils and angels. Maia’s pale, beautiful face is the last part to fade and disappear.

  12

  Now I am certain, now I am truly afraid. This is too big for me to handle – a cosmos torn apart by warring spirits, and I’m so small and weak.

  I have my ‘why me?’ moment, flop down on my bed and cry hot, salty tears.

  Monday dawned and life went on – Mom left for another three-day work trip to Europe, Dad went back to supervise the construction project in Utah – but nothing was as normal. I wasn’t normal. I was a bridge, a channel for good or evil – whichever tried to claim me, a soul twinned with a baby who burned to death in a wildfire and with God knows how many souls before that. Of course, it hadn’t taken Maia to appear to me in a halo of soft, supernatural light. Actually, as I say, somewhere deep in my psyche I’d known this all along, ever since the day I was born.

  ‘Tania, you take care, OK?’ Mom was concerned as she stood in the hallway with her suitcase. ‘And remember, you can reach me by text or call me whenever you want.’

  ‘Thanks, I’m cool.’ I attempted a smile but didn’t do a good job.

  ‘You’re sure you’ll be OK alone in the house?’

  ‘Totally.’

  ‘So call me.’

  ‘I’m OK. Now, go!’

  She wheeled her bag to her car, turned and smiled tentatively back at me. ‘Did you and Orlando have a fight?’ she asked.

  ‘No. Go!’ I waved and made as if to close the door.

  ‘Something’s wrong. What is it?’

  ‘Nothing. I’m good. Leave now or y
ou’ll miss your plane.’

  She looked at me a long time. The usual working-mom thoughts went through her head, I knew. Should I stay and take care of my daughter? What do I tell my boss? Tania’s not a kid any more – leave her to sort out her own life. Something’s not right – I know it. All the familiar torn-apart feelings.

  ‘Bye!’ I insisted.

  Mom sighed then waved and got in the car. She drove away. I felt more scared than I had ever been in my life.

  Zoran was evil. I had the evidence for it now. He was a devil from hell, exploding back into the material world on his dark, destructive mission in which he was obviously succeeding – first Oliver, next Grace, and who knows who would be after that … me or Jude, or someone I hadn’t thought of yet? Anyway, we were all in his grasp; innocent victims ready to swell that dark cosmic army of fallen angels.

  And how come I hadn’t been ready to see this clearly before now, from the moment when he appeared on stage at the Heavenly Bodies party with his angel wings and evil expression, gliding, whirling, singing?

  I remembered how he’d been, up there under the flashing lights. How tall and wiry he was, how scary with his shaven skull and plume of black feathers, his intense gaze. Then there was his bare torso and angel wing tattoo, his satanic wings.

  ‘You spoke my name,’ he sang. ‘I came/ In the dark, dark valley/ You call my name.’

  And we’d been drawn in from that moment – me, Grace and Holly, along with a thousand others. We’d loved the wild thrill of it, the beat of the drums, the whining guitars. ‘You don’t know me/ You never will.’

  Yes, I did – I knew him now for the dark angel he was – shape-shifting, whirling in front of us, preparing to drag us into chaos.

  And he’d risen up, levitated in that slash of green light. He was beyond beast, pure evil.

  It was Monday and the sun was up as usual. The house was empty.

  ‘Hey, honey. Am flying out to Salt Lake City.’ Dad had left me a note on the kitchen table. ‘Had to leave early. Looked in while you were sleeping. Said goodbye.’

  Oh, I needed him. I needed to hear his solid footsteps coming down the stairs, to know that he was out on the porch, reading about the 1890 massacre of Big Foot and his Miniconjou Lakotas at Wounded Knee.

  But there were no footsteps, no thousand-page tome with Dad’s unique bookmark slotted in – a laminated picture of me tilting back my head and grinning at the camera when I was five years old and in kindergarten – my first official school photo. The house was empty, uninhabited, and the sun was rising but nothing was as it should be.

  I emailed my dad’s cousin Stefan in Bucharest. I’d thought it through and decided it was the only practical way forward.

  Hi, Stefan. Tania here with a follow up to Dad’s query about the Zoran Brancusi mystery. I know – not that old thing again! I guess you all grew sick of answering questions about him. But here’s another one for you. Do you recall the name of the guy who took the corpse away from the hospital? I ask because we figure something weird is going on up at Zoran’s new place and I’m wondering if the same person is still in the picture – specifically a guy by the name of Ezra, or Lewis, or Daniel. Or possibly even a medic called Callum. Oh, and a girl who goes by the name of Cristal. Do any of these ring a bell? Sorry to bother you, but it’s important. Bye for now.

  Tania.

  I pressed Send and stared at the screen until my phone rang.

  ‘Hey, Tania, where are you?’ It was Holly, demanding to know why I wasn’t in school.

  ‘I stayed home. I don’t feel so good.’

  ‘What is it – stomach cramps, sinus, headache?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I sighed.

  ‘Which? Wait, girl – I get it. You had another fight with Orlando.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘He showed me his portfolio. How talented is he!’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘He’ll wow them at his interview on Friday, you know that?’

  ‘Yeah. Listen, Holly, I’ve got to go.’

  ‘OK. I’ll drop by after school. You sound like you need someone.’

  ‘Thanks. See you later. Bye.’ I ended the call, tried to calculate the time difference between me and Romania, figured it would be late in the day over there. I stared at the screen.

  Lunchtime came and went. I closed my laptop, went out on to the porch, stared at the young pine trees and pictured Becker Hill burning. Yellow flames lick at tall black trunks; they roar up into the canopy. Firebrands leap through the smoke-filled air. Breathe, breathe, go back inside.

  ‘I am here,’ Maia murmurs. A fleeting breath, a reminder.

  When I log on again, there is a message from Stefan.

  Hey, Tania. Don’t worry, I expected more questions from you or Andrey. I sensed something was wrong and anyhow I love a good mystery as much as the next person. So I checked on the details you asked me about and our hospital records show that the guy who took possession of the body went by the name of Malach. No first name and his signature was kind of scrawly and hard to decipher. No Ezras or Daniels, and definitely not a Cristal. Sorry I can’t give you more and I hope this helps in any case. Say hi to the rest of your family, Love, Stefan.

  I typed, Hey, Stefan. This guy, Malach, how did he look?

  The answer came right back.

  Sorry, Tania – I didn’t see him in the flesh. And the record is incomplete – no contact number or address. I’m afraid this is where the trail goes cold. Plus, my bleeper just went – I have to go now. Stefan.

  I read and reread the two messages, feeling frustration settle on me and confine me like a straitjacket. However long I stared at the name, Malach meant nothing to me. I thought so long and hard that the letters seemed to shift and twist under my gaze. What to do now, I wondered.

  It wasn’t much of an answer, but I drove down to the hospital to visit Jude.

  I guess I thought I would warn him about Cristal. Stick to plain facts, I told myself as I parked my car. Don’t get into angels and devils – he’ll think you’re crazy. Tell him Cristal uses guys then dumps them. Remember what happened to Oliver and how fast she moved on? It proves she has no conscience.

  I’d hoped Dr and Mrs Medina wouldn’t be bedside when I arrived but there they were, fussing over their son, packing his bag and getting ready to leave.

  Dr Medina was crouched beside Jude, helping him on with his shoes. He looked up at me as I stood in the doorway. ‘OK, Tania, that’s as far as you get.’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry but it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t mean for Jude to get sick,’ I said. ‘He was the one who wanted to go up Black Rock – it was his idea.’

  Jude stooped to put on his own shoes. His dad frowned then straightened up, deliberately ignoring me.

  Mrs Medina zipped the overnight bag closed. ‘I believe you,’ she told me. In her own mind she had everything clearly worked out. ‘This was probably the result of Jude’s obsession with the Montrose girl. We warned him she was no good for him way back, and now look what’s happened. Not only does Grace ditch Jude without any explanation but within hours she’s moved on to some hippie dropout living in a mountain commune.’

  ‘Jude?’ I said, doing my best not to react. ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘Good,’ he grunted. He was thinner than ever, his features shadowed and drawn. And I noticed that he avoided looking me in the eye. ‘They gave me a new type of antibiotic, plus a different type of inhaler – what can I say?’

  ‘He is not doing well!’ Dr Medina stepped in. ‘Can’t you see? Now, if you don’t mind, Tania, we’ll just get him out of here and home safe before we have another incident.’

  I always knew the Medinas were overprotective but I’d never seen them in overdrive before. They were acting like Jude was five years old, for Christ’s sake. ‘Jude?’ I said again. And if I thought the situation was already bad, it was about to get worse.

  ‘Ready?’ Mrs Medina asked, literally pushing me aside. She was out of the room and in t
he corridor when Cristal arrived.

  My mouth fell open – I couldn’t help it.

  ‘Hey, Jude.’ Cristal’s smile was all for him. She ignored everyone else completely.

  His face lit up in response. ‘Hey,’ he said softly.

  Here she was in his room, dressed in her usual green – this time in a close-fitting top that was a subtle shade of jade, plus tight blue jeans and black, heeled boots. Her flame-red hair was tied back and she wore dangling silver earrings.

  ‘Thanks for calling me to let me know they were ready to discharge you,’ she murmured as her long fingers brushed his shoulder.

  ‘Thanks for driving me down here to begin with and saving my life,’ he countered, his smile softening his face and making him look more like his old self. It was clear to everyone that he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  ‘Jude, your mom’s waiting,’ Dr Medina reminded him stiffly.

  ‘It’s OK, you two go ahead,’ Jude replied without tearing the direction of his glance away from Cristal. ‘This is my ride home. That’s why I called Cristal – so I could thank her and ask her to drive me home.’

  ‘Sure thing, and I’ll bring him back safe,’ she promised the Medinas. Those full, smiling lips, those green eyes, that pale, smooth skin also held other unspoken promises.

  For once Dr Medina was silenced. Even he could see the attraction.

  ‘He doesn’t need you to drive him home,’ Mrs Medina argued. ‘We’re here to do that.’

  ‘I’ll ride with Cristal,’ Jude said firmly.

  Oh, I’d seen that goofy look, those doting eyes before – on Oliver Knight when he was sitting by the pool across the table from the beautiful, the adorable, the magnetically attractive Cristal.

  She carried on smiling through the glowering expressions of the parents. ‘So glad you’re well again,’ she told Jude. She took his hand and held it, leaned forward to brush his cheek with her lips.