Feel the Flames

by BJ Sheldon

  Raphael continued to remain quiet, saying nothing.

  “I’m waiting. And if you think I’m going to drop this, you clearly don’t know me as well as you think. Talk!” I barked.

  Raphael’s gaze set on Grace and then Dorian before again focusing his sights on me. I knew what he wanted.

  “Guys. Could you wait for me outside?” I asked.

  Dorian shot me a look of protest, but I nodded toward the exit. He refused to move, defiantly folding his arms, staring me down. But I remained steadfast.

  “Please,” I stated, ardently.

  After a second or two, Dorian threw his arms down to his sides, rolled his eyes, and stomped toward the door with a very confused Grace following close behind.

  As the door closed behind them, Raphael spoke.

  “What do you wish to know?”

  “You’re hiding something about my mother.”

  He paused. Raphael turned about, his back to me.

  “I am.”

  I waited for him to keep talking, but he said nothing.

  “And?” I asked, waiting in anticipation for him to continue.

  “And, I can tell you nothing until you absolutely need to know.”

  I felt a fire rage in my gut as anger took over. I rushed over and grabbed him by the arm, spinning him back around, forcing him to look me in the eye.

  “Bullshit!” I shouted. “I need to know! I need to know now!”

  Raphael remained calm and seemingly unaffected by my outburst.

  “I understand how you feel, Skyy.”

  “No, you don’t. How could you? You were nothing but a stud-for-hire who got my mother pregnant and then walked away. As far as I know, you stopped giving a shit the moment you left. But I lost everything the day she left me there at that abbey. I lost my mother. I lost my world. I lost any chance at having any kind of normal life. So, don’t dish out that crap saying you can’t tell me anything.”

  I saw what I thought was a flicker of regret in Raphael’s eyes. I wondered if I had actually witnessed my father having feelings for me.

  But it was doubtful.

  “Let me be clear. I will tell you…eventually. When the information will be useful to you. Right now, it would do nothing but take you down a path you do not need to go. At the moment, your focus should be on the ring. And your friends.”

  “Is that your final answer?” I asked.

  “It is the only answer,” he replied.

  I fumed but remained silent. He had refused to give me the answer I wanted. Typical of his kind, I thought. Even Arna had been less than forthcoming with me when I’d asked him about my mother.

  “Must be something in the job description with you Watchers,” I said. “Never a straight answer.”

  “If we are done, I must go.” Raphael stood quietly and gazed at my artwork neatly stacked against the wall. “You’re good,” he said, gesturing at the canvases. “Perhaps you should look at them from time to time. You never know—perhaps it would jog a memory for you. Or someone else.”

  And with that, he turned and walked away, vanishing into thin air.

  “Thanks!” I shouted into the air sarcastically. “You were a big help!”

  I stood there for a few minutes, stewing in the juices of my own anger. Once again, the angels were less than forthcoming, and I was sick of everyone playing games with my life. Raphael had been no help at all, and once again I was left more confused than when I’d started.

  There was a knock on the door. It opened just wide enough for Grace to pop her head in.

  “Can we come back in? It’s still raining out here, and Dorian’s wings make a lousy umbrella.”

  I waved her in. She swung open the door and quickly stepped inside followed closely by Dorian. He shut the door behind him while Grace shook out her wet hair. She ran her fingers through it like a make-shift comb trying to tame the curls that were starting to appear. Dorian quivered his wings, shaking the rain from his feathers, and found his way over to the bench. He reclined on it, and stared at the ceiling, his fingers intertwined behind his head.

  Grace wandered about, checking out my artwork throughout the studio. She flipped through my hundreds of canvases on the floor, her fingertips dancing from one to the next, flicking them forward, one after the other. When she reached the third row, she stopped and turned to face me.

  “What the hell is this? Looks a lot darker than the other stuff you’ve painted.”

  I froze. It was the portrait of the man tied to the chair. It gave me the creeps. I had tried to erase it from memory the instant I finished it. I thought back to the day it was painted. The vision was disturbing, so I tried to forget it, working hard to push it from my thoughts. But after three straight days of anguish, I couldn’t fight the urge any longer. The painting took two days to complete, and once it was finished I hid it away, out of sight, and tried to forget it ever existed. I wasn’t entirely sure why I hadn’t just destroyed it, although a part of me figured that if I had, I’d be compelled to paint it all over again.

  The figure shrouding itself in the background was menacing, as if it was ready to pounce on the imprisoned man in the chair. It was then I noticed something about the dark form watching from the wings. I’d never noticed it before. It was subtle—barely noticeable. But there they were. Its eyes seemed to glow gold from behind the mist exactly the way demon eyes did. The more I studied it, the more entranced I became…as if it was drawing me in with its evil stare.

  I shook my head and broke its trance on me, snatching it from Grace’s hands.

  “What is it?” Grace asked.

  “It’s nothing,” I replied, taking the painting and hiding it behind the Seal of Solomon painting on my easel.

  “The look on your face tells me it’s something.”

  I ignored her and wandered over to my desk and sat down. After a few minutes, she went back to browsing through my artwork while I mindlessly riffled through sketches and books in an effort to look busy.

  “Omigod!” Grace’s sudden outburst surprised me, causing me to jump in my seat. “It’s him!”

  Dorian and I shot each other a sideways glance.

  “It’s who?” Dorian asked.

  Grace pulled out the painting and held it up in front of her for us to see.

  “It’s the homeless guy! The guy who came to my rescue that night in the comic book store!”

  I rushed over and took the painting from her and spun it around to see the back of the canvas.

  “1966,” I whispered.

  “What?” Grace asked.

  Dorian was suddenly behind me looking over my shoulder.

  “Man with Brown Laces, from 1966. That’s when I painted this.”

  Grace took the painting back and stared at the man’s face.

  “I’m telling you. That’s him. Looks exactly like him. He’s even wearing the same shoes.”

  The man in the painting had dark brown eyes which pierced the void. It was as if he were staring at me from somewhere else, trapped by an unseen force within the canvas. His ominous expression gave off an air of suspicion, distrust etched in the lines on his face as he frowned at the world around him. And his mood appeared dark, although it was difficult to get a reading on someone who was nothing more than just paint brush strokes on paper.

  Grace propped the painting up on an empty easel, and we all stood side by side staring at it.

  “So, you painted this fifty years ago?” asked Grace.

  I nodded.

  “What does it mean?”

  I shrugged.

  “Who do you think it is?”

  “Absolutely no idea.”

  Chapter 18

  No matter where I stood, his eyes seemed to follow me—always watching—always judging. That painting of the unknown man haunted me for the next few hours. He’d come to Grace’s rescue when Naberius and his demons attacked. Homeless or not, he’d been strong enough to fight off supernatural beings…which could mean only one thing.
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  He wasn’t who he appeared to be.

  I had a sneaking suspicion, but I didn’t think it would be a good idea to share my conjecture with the others. Not yet, anyway. What if I was wrong? I felt it was best to keep it to myself for the time being. If I was right, we’d know soon enough.

  We decided we would leave for Devils Tower around midnight. Using a telepathic link, I asked Arna and Rami to join us on our adventure. Arna quickly agreed and said he’d meet us at the tower, but Rami wasn’t sure. He still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of being around Dorian after what had happened between them, but with humanity’s survival in the balance, he knew he couldn’t say no. He arrived via portal shortly thereafter, sauntering into my studio without knocking on the door.

  Rami froze upon seeing saw Grace, standing there with her bright pink hair and awkward grin. His confident swagger quickly turned into nervous reticence. He didn’t seem to know what to say around her. And Grace wasn’t doing any better. Her usual cockiness and self-assurance seemed to melt, unable to even make eye contact with him.

  I shot each one a confused look as I tried to figure out what was going on, but I suddenly realized what was at the core of their silence.

  I smiled and shook my head.

  “Rami, Grace. Grace, Rami,” I said, making the formal introductions.

  Each looked up and tossed a cursory glance to the other, both muttering hey at the same time.

  I watched as they tried to start a conversation. Grace couldn’t seem to piece two words together in his presence without stuttering, and Rami couldn’t seem to muster more than a nervous laugh at whatever she said.

  But I had other things on my mind other than their burgeoning love connection.

  Mina’s words had haunted me since ever since that night. I needed answers—something more than just cryptic riddles and flowery words. I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that she knew more than she’d let on.

  So, with a few hours to kill, I quietly excused myself. I told the group I had a quick errand to run. Dorian chased me to the exit and asked where I was headed, but I just smiled and told him I’d be back before it was time to leave and stepped outside before anyone could stop me. I leapt into the air and took off in the direction of the reservation—toward Mina’s.

  I still couldn’t reveal my father’s identity to anyone. The risk of that information falling into the wrong hands was too great, so it was best that I kept it to myself. But the burden of knowing seemed to be heavier than when I didn’t know anything at all. And while it didn’t appear he had any kind of overwhelming paternal feelings for me, I believed he felt something.

  But what those feelings were or how deeply he felt them…that was a mystery to me.

  It wasn’t long before I landed near Mina’s trailer. Something in the air felt wrong, my wings were fluttering with anticipation. I crouched low and listened. I heard everything: the crickets chirping all around me, the wind blowing through the blades of grass, and even the prairie dogs calling to each other in the distance. I could have heard a pin drop if it occurred from a mile away—a side effect of being an immortal Watcher.

  But it wasn’t what I heard that concerned me.

  It was what I didn’t hear.

  I couldn’t hear Mina.

  It was late, and odds were she’d be sleeping at that hour. But at the very least, I’d hear her breathing while she slept. And her breathing was very distinct—raspy and wheezy, her years of chain smoking taking its toll. But I heard nothing coming from inside her trailer.

  Maybe she’s out, I thought to myself. But her old Buick was still parked in the same exact spot, dust still covering it. In fact, it looked like it hadn’t moved since the last time I was there. I stood, taking care to be alert to everything around me…just in case. With extreme caution, I crept toward her trailer, sword in hand. I placed my ear at her door and listened.

  I reached for the handle slowly and drew in a deep breath. I flung the door open and rushed inside, not sure what I’d discover. But what I found quickly froze me in place.

  Mina had been dead for some time, and it clearly hadn’t been a natural death. Her body was contorted, as if someone had nearly snapped her in half. She was bloated and the smell inside of her trailer was both rancid and sweet. I was all too familiar with the smell of death. I knew the scent of her decomposing body would stay with me for days, but the expression on her face would stay with me forever. Her face was frozen with a look of fear, her neck bent in an unnatural angle.

  I stared at her for a while, not quite sure what I should do or who I should tell.

  There was a feeling in my gut that I couldn’t shake. Someone had killed Mina sometime after we’d talked to her about Michael. That couldn’t be a coincidence. I was certain she’d been murdered because of that visit. So, in essence, I’d gotten her killed.

  Her death was on me.

  But the question was who had killed her? My thoughts immediately went to the possibility that Dorian could have done it. After all, he’d gone back to retrieve his sister’s sabre that night. He had the opportunity…and he’d been acting strangely for days. But I immediately shook off that notion reminding myself that Dorian wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. There was no way he was capable of something like that. I’d stake my life on it.

  Odds were it was Naberius or one of his many legions of demons. Or worse…a Watcher. In fact, I wasn’t sure who to trust anymore after everything I’d learned.

  I backed out of Mina’s trailer careful not to disturb anything. Without hesitation, I slid my sword back into its scabbard and took off flying toward my property. My mind wandered as I took my time getting home. The journey ahead would be scary and unpredictable. There was no way to predict what would happen or what I should do if we succeeded in finding the ring. I knew that neither side should have possession of it, but I also knew that I ran the risk of becoming something I wasn’t if I didn’t figure out a way to get rid of it for good.

  Rock.

  Hard place.

  And there I was stuck in the middle.

  I could walk away from it all. There was a possibility that no one would ever find the Seal of Solomon and that the world would keep turning like it always did. The Archangel Michael had already managed to keep it hidden for centuries. There was a chance he’d stay hidden and never be found. So, if I went back to my studio and pretended I’d never heard of the ring in the first place, there was a chance it would all go away.

  But I knew better. There was more to it.

  Naberius wanted it and wouldn’t stop looking until he found it, with or without me. And if he found it before me, I’d lose my chance at keeping it out of the hands of Hell and its legions of demons. But if I found it before Naberius, he’d never stop hunting me until he possessed it. But there were other things at play. There were Watchers who wanted it, as well. And the outcome if Heaven gained access to the ring would be the same as if Hell obtained it.

  Humanity would be destroyed.

  It was a no-win situation.

  My property came into view. I tried to push the thoughts of inevitable failure from my mind. The night air felt good against my skin, and for a moment I contemplated running from it all. But just like the battle at the Badlands, I knew that running wasn’t an option. It was the coward’s way out.

  I landed just outside my studio. Taking in a long breath, I let it out slowly as I rolled my head from side to side as I prepared to join my friends. I forced a smile to my face and made my way inside. Rami and Grace appeared to be deep in quiet conversation on the bench. The awkwardness between them seemed to be waning as they slowly got to know each other.

  Dorian had been staring at my painting of the seal of Solomon, but turned to face me as I approached him.

  “Where did you go?” he asked flatly.

  “I went to find Mina,” I replied nonchalantly. I paused, waiting for a response to see if I could detect panic behind his eyes. But he barely flinched.

  “W
hy?”

  Dorian didn’t appear worried that I’d gone to see the medium. Instead, he seemed confused.

  I casually shrugged and made my way to the duffel in the corner which held the cache of weapons I’d inherited from the battle at the Badlands.

  “I had questions. She had answers.” I didn’t want to lie to my friends, but I also didn’t want to worry anyone unnecessarily. If they all knew she’d been brutally killed, there would be speculation about who had committed the heinous act, and I needed everyone’s focus to be on Michael and Devils Tower.

  “What did she have to say?” asked Rami.

  I crouched down and unzipped the bag.

  “Nothing, really.” I grew quiet for a bit as I dug around inside the bag until I finally managed to find what I was looking for. “Grace. Come here.”

  She stood and dutifully strolled over. I straightened up, slapping the grip of a .50 caliber handgun into the palm of her hand. Her gaze quickly met mine, alarm and fear behind her eyes.

  “What’s this?” she asked, barely choking out the words.

  “This is Gladys. She used to belong to Sean before he…” my voice trailed off. “It won’t provide you much protection when it comes to what we’re up against, but it will slow them down if need be.”

  Grace stared at the gun, then eyed me for a second or two before again directing her attention back on Gladys. It sat in her hand as if a bird had taken a crap in her palm.

  “Ever shoot one of those things?” I asked.

  Grace shook her head nervously.

  “I’ll take her out and show her.” Gavyn was standing in the doorway.

  “Who’s that?” Rami asked.

  “What the hell is he doing here?” Grace suddenly found her voice.

  I glanced over at Dorian, and he already had Gavyn in his sights, glaring at him with suspicion in his eyes.