The Children of Wisdom Trilogy

by Stephanie Erickson

I find myself going to all of Kismet’s plays, in a way I never did when Andrew was alive. After all, that was his responsibility. We never turn down an opportunity to meet for lunch or dinner. Somewhere along the line, the friendly hugs change. Kismet starts to linger longer than normal, and I let myself breathe in her scent—lavender, with a touch of lemon.

  I’m already in love with her; I have been for a while. But it’s all new for her, and it scares both of us, so we ignore it for quite some time. Months pass this way. We spend more and more time together, our casual affections growing more frequent.

  In that time, I struggle to maintain my focus. It’s a struggle, though, and Kismet starts to occupy my mind more and more. The drive to find answers is replaced by the need to make Kismet happy, to see her smile again. And the more she leans on me, the stronger that need grows.

  As the months pass, I only find time to steal away on occasion to conduct my search, making the quest for answers frustratingly slow. I start out at the churches and temples, asking the priests what they know about Watchers, or fallen angels. Most have never heard them referred to as Watchers.

  Eventually, my search brings me to Rabbi Frankel.

  His temple is built from stone and colored glass, and the big, wooden doors creak loudly when I go inside.

  The man is in an office, sleeping behind a large, wooden desk covered in open books and papers scrawled in shaky handwriting. He’s an old rabbi, and he looks hunched down under the weight of his congregation’s burdens. I clear my throat as I gently knock on the doorframe.

  “Excuse me, Rabbi Frankel. My name is Penn. I have a few questions for you if you have a moment.”

  The rabbi wakes slowly, his salt-and-pepper beard draping down over his chest, and his feet perch on the desk in front of him. “Hmm?”

  “I have a few questions, if you have a moment,” I say again.

  “What? Oh certainly, my boy. Please, come in, sit down.” He sits up without hurrying, and he doesn’t try to apologize for the fact that he was sleeping. I like him already.

  I take the chair across from his desk as he closes a few of the books in front of him, but it seems like his heart isn’t in the effort, as he leaves most of them open. He notices me watching him. “I’d hate to lose my place. It’s hard enough to get started without a bone-headed move like that.”

  I smile. “Well, don’t feel any pressure to tidy up on my account. I’ve interrupted your nap.”

  “Yes, you did. So this better be important.” The rabbi has a glint of mischief in his eye, making me smile broadly.

  “I was wondering if you’d ever heard of a Watcher.”

  “Like a fallen angel?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, since I knew what you meant, yes, I’ve heard of them. Why?”

  “I’d like to find one.”

  The rabbi leans forward on his desk, staring intently at me. I have the old man’s attention now, and all traces of sleep are gone. His gaze is sharp and intense, and I know intuitively that if I don’t watch what I say around this man, my secret will be out.

  “What an interesting idea. I’d never considered that they might still be around. But why not? It’s safe to assume angels are immortal. So why wouldn’t they still be wandering the Earth?” Something about the way he says it makes me feel like he’s teasing me, like he knows more than he’s letting on.

  Before I can pursue it, he gets to his feet and circles to the huge shelf of books to my right. He pulls one out and brings it to my side of the desk, gesturing for me to come closer. After opening the book to a specific page, he begins reading aloud.

  “Abaddon was said to be the most notorious Watcher. He was known for turning even the most loyal women away from their husbands. One woman in particular was well known in her village for deeply loving her husband. Knowing this, Abaddon took it as a challenge. At first, she resisted, suspecting who, and what, he was. But he disguised himself as her husband, and she lay with him. She was so distraught that she threw herself in the river. Shortly after that, the Watchers were cast out of heaven.”

  “Does it say where that was?” I ask, wanting to take the text from the man to search it for myself.

  “No. It doesn’t. But this was millennia ago. I can’t imagine an angel like that would stay in one place for long.”

  “Do you think there could be Watchers here in New York?”

  That question gives the old man pause. “Why do you need to find one so bad?”

  “I need to make a connection with the heavens.”

  “My dear boy. Just pray. That’s the easiest way to connect.”

  For humans. Yes. But I’m not human. And I’m also banished. My prayers will fall on deaf ears, and I know it. “My prayers won’t be answered. I need another way.”

  Sadness creeps in to the old man’s expression. “Perhaps you’re not listening hard enough.”

  “Rabbi, I don’t need to be saved. I am fine really. I just want to…” I hesitate. To what? “Find answers.”

  “And you think an upstanding citizen like a Watcher is going to help you?” The old man’s eyes crinkle at the outside corners with the joys of years past when he smiles.

  “Okay, so it might not be the most ideal plan, but it’s the best one I’ve got. My other option didn’t work, and I’m running out of ideas.” I know I’ve said too much, but I’m frustrated. It’s been months since Andrew died, and my search has yielded nothing.

  “A friend of mine died unexpectedly. He shouldn’t have. He was supposed to have a long and healthy life. Something is wrong, and I need to know what. More than that, I need to make sure it won’t happen to Kismet.”

  “Kismet. What a lovely name.”

  Of course, that’s the detail he zeros in on. I hadn’t even intended to say her name.

  “If death is what you seek, why not find the angel of death?”

  I watch the man closely, choosing my words carefully. “I tried. They wouldn’t let me into the ICU.”

  “Ah. I see. So a Watcher was your next best option?” The old man raises a very hairy eyebrow at me.

  “Well, do you have any better ideas?”

  “Yes. Pray. I told you that already.”

  “And I heard you. Perhaps a more actionable approach would be helpful.”

  “My boy, I find nothing more actionable than the power of prayer.”

  I frown. There’s no way to make this human understand, and besides, the man clearly has no idea where to find a Watcher. So, I stand. “Thank you for your time, Rabbi.” I hold out my hand for the man to shake, but he only stares at it.

  “Sit down, for heaven’s sake. We’re not done.”

  I plant my butt back in the chair like a cowed child.

  “Now, modern times would have been kind to the Watchers. Adultery isn’t as frowned upon as it once was. Although the challenge is gone, the carnal need can be met with an overwhelming amount of supply.”

  I shift in my seat, uncomfortable talking about such an intimate topic with a rabbi. “I don’t think a strip club is where I’d start. You need something more high class. A brothel maybe? Or an escort service? But you’re not looking for an employee. You’re looking for the owner.”

  My face lights up with the sheer brilliance of the idea. “Not all brothel owners will be fallen angels,” I say, as my mind races at the possibilities. For the first time in months, I have a lead, an idea that might work.

  “I must caution you in your pursuit, my friend. If you care for this Kismet, are you willing to sacrifice her in your quest for answers? If you really do find a Watcher, she would make a fine prize for him.”

  I sit back in my chair heavily, feeling totally defeated.

  “Weigh your options carefully before you go any further. There are no choices without consequences.”

  I look at him, wondering not for the first time how much he truly understands.

  The rabbi leans back in his chair and returns his feet to the desktop, making himself comfortable, t
hen drags a book into his lap and opens it. “Perhaps another option might be more appealing to you,” he says, eyeing me over the top of his book.

  “I’m not praying if that’s what you’re going to suggest again.”

  He smiles sadly at me. “Although I still think it’s worth a shot, that’s not what I was going to say.” He leans forward and pushes a few books aside, uncovering a phone on his desk.

  Pressing a button, he asks, “Can you come in here for a moment, please?”

  “Of course,” a woman’s voice answers. Even over the phone, I can tell she’s special. Her voice sings. Something about it tugs at my memory, making my pulse quicken.

  Not five seconds later, an old woman appears in the doorframe. Her long, silvery hair is pulled away from her face in a loose bun, with strands tumbling down every which way. She seems elderly, but she stands up straight as a rail, not at all burdened by the passing of the years. Her skin is weathered, but her eyes are crystal clear. They’re so familiar to me that I almost stand and go to her.

  She gasps at the sight of me, but then she clears her throat and says, “Yes, Rabbi, how can I help you?”

  He smiles, quite pleased with himself. “Fia. I believe you can help this boy.”

  She nods, but neither of us is capable of movement. Fia. Can it be? She looks so much older than when I knew her, but the eyes…

  Slowly I stand. “But… the Keeper said…”

  Her stern look makes me clamp my mouth shut before I can say any more. She holds her arm out. “Right this way, young man.”

  “Have fun, you two,” the rabbi says, and I can tell by the sound of his voice, he’s barely holding back a laugh.

  She shuts her office door behind her, and then wraps me up in the biggest hug I’ve had since landing on Earth. Aida gives some good hugs, but this, this one is filled with memories of times long since passed.

  “I thought I’d never see you again,” we both whisper.

  “What are you doing here?” we say together.

  Laughing, she leads me to a chair in front of her desk. Her office is similar to the Rabbi’s, but smaller. I sit in a small, red leather armchair, and she chooses to sit next to me rather than taking the seat behind her desk.

  “You go first,” she instructs.

  I spend the next hour telling her everything. About Kismet, the day I made her, how I fell, Michaela’s mysterious problem, Andrew’s untimely death, and my suspicions about Webber. She doesn’t interrupt me the entire time, and I’m so happy to get it all out, I’m nearly crying by the end.

  When I’m finished, I realize she’s resting her hand on mine, although I have no memory of her putting it there.

  “Well, that’s quite a tale, Penn. I leave you alone for a few centuries, and you let the whole world go to hell, huh?” A smile pulls at the corner of her mouth as she gets up and goes to the corner of her office, where she pours two cups of tea.

  She hands one of the cups to me. “I retired here centuries ago, shortly after you took over. I move around a lot to avoid suspicion. I found Rabbi Frankel about twenty years ago. He knows some of who I am. I don’t think he knows I was a Fate, but he certainly knows I came from the heavens.”

  “I gathered that,” I say, thinking of his knowing smiles as I sip the hot tea. The weather is getting colder, and it feels good in my cold hands. “Why the aged appearance?” I ask. “I almost didn’t recognize you. The eyes give you away.”

  “It draws less attention. Plus, people would notice quickly if I didn’t seem to age.”

  Thinking of how much attention my appearance has garnered since I arrived on Earth, I understand completely. The possibility of aging my appearance never even occurred to me, but it’s brilliant. The perfect way to blend in among the humans.

  “You stand up too straight,” I say, gesturing to her back. “Someone as old as you’ve made yourself look wouldn’t have such good posture.”

  “Well, I didn’t ask you for your opinion, did I, newbie?” she says, raising an eyebrow at me before she sips her tea. I’ve come home, or so it feels. We’re back to our easy banter from the days before I became an official Fate.

  After a few moments of silence, I ask her. “Can you go back?” There’s an ounce of hope in my voice. She could be my connection to Michaela.

  “No. I’m sorry, I can’t. I’ve retired here for good.”

  “So… how is banishment different from retirement?” I ask.

  “I chose this. I spent some time researching what life was like on Earth, studying the humans. I also got plenty of resources. I wasn’t left penniless and naked like you were. I have everything I need to live comfortably forever.”

  I sit back in my chair. “So what do you think is happening?”

  “Whatever it is doesn’t sound good. I’ve never met most of the people you’re talking about, so I don’t have much of a point of reference. But I do know that if Reapers don’t want to see you, you won’t see them. I agree that getting in touch with Michaela is the most direct way you can get answers, but the only way you’ll accomplish that is if she comes to you. Seeking her out is a waste of your time.”

  I snort. “Clearly.”

  “I also think finding a Watcher is a very bad idea. They won’t help you. They’re the most selfish souls around. And they’ll take you for everything you’re worth. Kismet is no exception.”

  “So what are you saying? You think I should just sit and wait?” I say, not at all pleased with this prospect.

  “Maybe. You never were very patient.”

  “It’s not about patience, Fia. Kismet and Andrew are connected. How do I know she won’t follow him to the grave? I’m not sure I can afford to sit here and do nothing.”

  “I’m not sure you have much of a choice right now. I don’t think this is your time to act,” Fia answers.

  “How can you possibly know that?” I ask, hoping she still has a connection to the heavens.

  “I don’t. But I do know God. And although this might seem out of control for us, it’s not for Him. He will use you to rein this problem in when the time is right.”

  I think about some of His last words to me. I’m not through with you yet, Penn, his voice echoes in my mind.

  “I just hope He does it before anything more unravels.”

  Time marches on, as it tends to do. Fia and I see each other regularly. To explain our connection to Kismet, Fia has claimed the title of my mother’s aunt. I don’t know where she comes up with these things, but Kismet has welcomed her into our lives with open arms, excited to have a connection to my family, and my past.

  Easily, we fall into a routine of dinners with Fia every other week, dancing around the rest of our obligations. The girls’ favorite pastime during these shared meals becomes swapping embarrassing stories about me. Fia, of course, changes any heavenly details, but it does nothing to wipe the memories of my embarrassments.

  “My sisters weren’t too keen on Penn. When he was a young boy, he liked to come to work and poke around. Oh, he was always getting himself into trouble. One time, he asked my sister if she had such a sour face because she’d eaten a lemon. I nearly died. She didn’t think it was all that funny.”

  Kismet dissolved into giggles, and the sound filled my soul with joy. What was a little embarrassment if it got her laughing?

  It’s hard to accept, but I know Fia’s right. I can only wait for now. When the time comes to act, I’ll know what to do.

  One night, just before Christmas, Kismet asks me for something. “Penn, I’d like you to go to the cemetery with me.”

  I look up from my book, startled to see that she’s fully dressed in a coat, scarf, hat, and mittens. Closing my book, I stand. “Sure, Kismet. Just let me get my coat.”

  We walk the entire way, not speaking. Kismet hooks her arm in mine, and I stuff my hands in my pockets to try and keep warm. The snow drifts lazily to the ground, and the lights everywhere give the city a magical feel. Although it’s getting late, I don’t
mind being out when it’s this lovely.

  We round the last corner, automatically finding the way to Andrew’s resting place. I often visit my dear friend to tell him about Kismet and life at the store. But I rarely go with Kismet. She likes to go on her own, and I understand that.

  When we arrive, I brush the snow off his gravestone. The simple marker stands out among the big, flashy ones that surround it. It states his name, dates of birth and death, and is etched with a simple statement: You are missed. It has been almost six months since his death, but I still have trouble imagining my life without him. The ache remains keen.

  Once I’m done clearing away the snow, and we can both see the writing, Kismet says, “All right boys, we need to talk.” There’s an authoritative tone in her voice that I haven’t heard in months.

  I look at her curiously, a half smile on my face. “I think you’ll find the conversation a bit one-sided,” I say, earning a fierce look. Whatever Kismet has on her mind, it’s serious.

  “I’ve been struggling a lot with what I want to say, but in the end, I know you both want me to be happy. That’s all you’ve ever wanted.”

  I shift my weight as I stand on one corner of this strange triangle we’ve formed. I can’t help but wonder where she’s going with this.

  “Andrew, I love you. I always will. But you’re not here with me anymore. You won’t ever be.” Her voice hitches. “We can’t have the life we planned, so I need to move on.”

  What does she mean? Is she planning to move out? I’m not sure how I feel about that. Admittedly, I’m tired of sleeping on the floor, but I bought an air mattress when I realized she wasn’t going anywhere. And I cleared some space in the apartment for her belongings after she moved out of theirs—and sold most of their stuff—a few months ago.

  Panic sets in as a new idea occurs to me. Is she thinking about moving back to Florida to be with her parents? Has the strain of Andrew’s death been too much? If she does leave, I’m not sure how I’ll cope with having her so far away.

  “Andrew, I know you loved Penn like a brother. I did too, actually. He set his own feelings aside because he saw what was best for both of us. How could you not love someone like that?” She pauses, waiting for him to respond. The wind gently blows a snowflake onto her nose, and she laughs. It’s a sound I don’t hear much anymore, and it delights me. I reach out for her hand, and she takes it.