by Amy Lignor
Gabriel turned around and touched her partner’s shoulder. “You’ll do fine, Matt. Just remember your aim is always to protect. Use your best judgment in all situations, and understand that humans can sometimes make bad decisions because of how strongly they feel about things. Anger is the enemy. It can cloud issues and make people do unspeakable things. So can love. True love is the most powerful thing, but it can prevent a man from seeing clearly. All the emotions we’ve talked about, you’ll feel now. Make sure that you choose your path carefully. If you get confused…just call me. I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”
Matt nodded as thunder erupted through the glass chamber.
Emily stepped away from them, waiting for her own teacher’s words of advice.
Mark came close bowing his head to speak to her. As he continued to whisper, Emily could hardly believe what she was hearing. As her forehead tightened, anger flew from her lips, “What do you mean? All the hours, all the classes—we did them together. How would we not know?”
Mark put his arm around her shoulders. “Your memories you cannot take with you. If you were allowed to keep them, then all of the decisions that you make will be ours and not your own.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “If you go into this knowing what and who you are, Emily, then the information you bring back will be shrouded in your training. It will be useless. We need to know how you and Matt handle the emotions…the trials…the world as it is down there. We need to know how to fix things—through your eyes.”
“So we are an experiment?” Emily pulled away from Mark’s grip and shouted at the leader of the group. “Is that it, Michael?”
Michael offered her a troubled stare. “You are souls, Emily. You have a job to do. You’re being placed into human shells. These shells were supposed to do great things, important things, but their souls left too early to complete their tasks. Your spirits are going down to take over, to do what needs to be done. And you and Matt will solve these situations with as little violence as possible.
“You both can stop bad things from happening and turn them around. But always remember that the human shells you’ll be in are vulnerable. Not even your unlimited powers can save them if something bad happens. You are not an experiment, Emily. You’re a human angel.”
She bowed her head. “You have a ton of angels. They go out and help all the time…every minute of the day. Why this? Why would you take him away from me?”
Turning away from Gabriel, Matt’s eyes darted back and forth from his partner to their teacher. His confused voice suddenly filled the hallway. “Take who away?”
“You,” Emily stated. “When we’re sent down today, you won’t know who I am down there. We won’t know what we are. They’re taking our memories away.”
“What?” Matt gasped. “Why? I need her!”
Emily jumped at the intensity in her partner’s voice.
“We were made for each other.” Matt’s face turned red. “I mean…we’re a team.”
Michael raised his hands in the air. “Wait! Children, you have to understand this. You will be together. You’ll also have certain…gifts…that will go with you. But the situations, the choices that you make have to be yours and yours alone. What you do and how you handle life will be completely up to you.” He looked at Emily. “You’re brand new. You have human gifts up here and you’ll have your angelic gifts down there. You will play by a set of rules different from humans. You have immense power and understanding and, better than that, you’ve been offered the chance to have a life.”
“Life?” Matt sounded confused. “Our lives are here.”
Gabriel cut in. “This,” he said, swinging his arms around the hallway. “This is an afterlife. A real life—with opportunities both good and bad—is waiting for you and Emily down there. You’ll have the freedom to be whatever you want, and go wherever you wish. The information you gather will aid our quest to understand humanity. Perhaps you will uncover why such painful things are happening down there. We hope you’ll serve as a map to peace.”
Emily turned and hugged Mark, swallowing her childish tears. She then went to Gabriel and did the same. As she approached Michael, she stopped before him and bowed.
He reached his hand below her chin, raising her eyes to meet his. “Use your time wisely. This is your life, but know that it is the first among many.”
Emily nodded. “We’ll do our best.”
“I know you will.”
Turning to the silver door, Michael waved his hand, leading the huddled group through the mist.
Emily was grateful for Matthew’s strong, comforting grip as they followed Michael into the chamber where the members of the Council awaited their historic journey. She could barely breathe as they were led to the stage. Emily searched the familiar faces. As her friends and teachers met her gaze, a mixture of sadness and loss filled the quiet room.
“Bow your heads and close your eyes,” Michael ordered quietly.
Emily took one last look at Matt, her best friend, and felt powerful sparks of energy flow through their clasped hands.
Matt’s words were determined and strong. “I’ll always know you. There’s no need to worry about that.” He smiled before closing his eyes.
Emily’s brain knew what he said was true. She could never forget Matt. If nothing else, she would surely remember his cerulean blue eyes. They were the color of the thin line that separated the ocean from the sky. His gaze was that brilliant horizon that kept her steady so she never got lost in the wide majesty of the stars, or the treacherous depths of the ocean. Their souls were one, keeping each other on the right course, oblivious to the rest of the world.
“Wait!”
Emily heard a familiar voice cry out. She opened her eyes to see Saint Francis rush into the room. His long white hair flew out behind him like a crown of feathers as he ran towards her, clutching a small black and white bundle in his arms.
All the eyes in the room seemed amused, as they watched the old man scurry forward under Michael’s impatient gaze. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I forgot to give something to Emily,” Francis sputtered, as he held a furry object out to her.
She glanced up at Michael’s towering figure.
“Do I even want to know who this is?” Michael sighed, as he stared down at the squirming ball of fur.
Francis tilted his head to the side, placing the creature into Emily’s outstretched arms. “Who? It’s not a who, Michael. It’s an it.”
“Okay, what is it?” Michael asked, continuing to scan the small ball of fur for any sign of trickery.
“Oh, for His sake, Mike, it’s only a cat.” Francis laughed, patting both Emily and the cat on the head before rushing back down the aisle.
Michael rolled his eyes. “Okay, let’s try this again.”
The chiming of bells filled the room, making Emily’s ears hum. She knew it was happening. Matt’s hand disappeared from hers, and she hugged the agitated cat closer, feeling the sudden power of two strong arms enveloping her soul. They held her softly as they raised her into the air. She felt…peaceful. Like she was floating through a lovely summer sky. Colors illuminated the backs of her eyelids as an emerald green landscape appeared with a small, brown cabin resting on top of a hill. A beautiful blue river wound its way across the moors toward dark cliffs that towered over an angry looking ocean.
Two young women came into view. They were sitting outside the door of a small cabin. One was lying down; her red hair was spread out across the grass like a fan of fire. Her eyes were closed and her face looked deathly pale. The other young woman hovered over the lifeless body; her mouth wide open as if she were screaming.
Suddenly Emily felt the warm arms release her as she began to drop closer and closer to the sleeping body. A rush of cold air entered her lungs and hot blood flowed through her veins. As Emily struggled to open her eyes, a bucket of icy cold water was thrown in her face.
CHAPTER THREE
Ireland, 1810
Liz sat
up and gasped for air, letting the cold water bring her back to the land of the living.
Above her, Faith screamed; her face was a mask of panic and fear. “Are you all right?” she shouted. “Elizabeth, speak to me!”
Liz blinked against the brightness of the setting sun. “Stop screaming. You’ll have the whole blasted county up here.”
Faith dropped to her knees.
“What happened?” Liz spoke softly. Her head was pounding; her brain was completely fuzzy.
“You blacked out again. I told you I would get the food ready. Why don’t you just rest once in a while?” Faith shook her head; her long brown hair whipping around her angry face.
Liz reached out and patted her shoulder. “Sorry.”
Standing up in a huff, Faith threw her hand away. “That’s what you always say,” she grumbled, as she marched through the door of the small cabin.
Liz sat on the warm grass, willing the darkness to fade. The memory of what happened during her blackout felt like it was hidden right inside her head, but she just couldn’t reach it. How annoying. But the wave of peace that washed over her now was truly extraordinary.
She reveled in the waning warmth of the sun as it slowly retreated across the hillside. The heady scent of fresh lavender that filled her nostrils was rejuvenating, and she tried to stand.
After the fog in her brain began to clear, Liz looked down at her dripping clothes. She sighed. Talk about a mess. Her gray peasant dress was already too large for her small size, and now it felt like a huge, wet blanket. Her white apron was covered with grass stains and her dark red curls hung damp and heavy down her back. As she stood there for a minute the dizziness finally disappeared, and she walked through the open door.
When she crossed over the threshold, the surroundings of the cabin caused a strange shot of panic to hit her between her stark, black eyes. It almost felt as if the place that she’d lived in her whole life was suddenly a brand new sight to behold. Her brain went into overdrive, as if she’d just woken up from a long, drawn-out coma.
The bar was to her left; the dark wood carved with all the drawings that were special to the Irish people. The saints and sinners of the old religion were represented with well-known fairies and sprites dancing all around them. Liz vaguely remembered her friends coming in and helping her put together this beautiful work of art. It’d become known as the ‘altar’ of the town, where the men could come and tell their stories. At the moment, Faith was standing behind it, stacking mugs in neat little rows as she readied the place for the evening ahead.
A strange feeling weighed heavily on Liz’s soul. It was as if she’d just walked into this place for the very first time, yet somehow she knew every crack and crevice of the cabin.
She looked over her shoulder into a small kitchen. Glazed bowls sat on the counter, and a line of well-used pots and pans hung from hooks in the ceiling. They looked like a metallic rainbow of copper, brass, and iron. As they moved together in the breeze coming from the open door, their soft chimes rang throughout the room. Liz inhaled the mouth-watering aromas of freshly baked bread and vegetable stew, just waiting to feed the hungry crowd that was about to arrive.
Directly in front of her was the fireplace; the logs were already burning and the flames jumped around inside the grate like happy leprechauns. A weathered rocking chair sat off to the side, waiting for her to sit down. Staring at the comfortable chair, Liz felt the familiar scene invade her mind, and she finally began to relax.
Faith moved silently around Liz and began taking the chairs off the tabletops. Her mouth was still set in a frown as she concentrated on her work.
“What day is it?” Liz asked.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Faith mumbled. “What’s wrong with you? It’s Friday and everyone will be here soon.” She turned to Liz. “Go up to the loft and pull yourself together,” she ordered. “You’re as white as a vampire. You don’t want to scare everyone again, do you?”
Liz shook her head and walked over to the ladder. When her trembling legs reached the top, she saw two worn beds covered with quilts that she somehow knew her mother had made. She sat down fast and put her head on the pillow, as sudden memories exploded in her mind.
She’d been ten-years-old when she’d stood in the closet and listened to the screaming. Her mother’s cries and the sound of her father’s heavy footsteps as he paced the floor waiting for his son to be born—were all Liz could remember hearing. But the celebration never came. When the midwife went on her way, Liz’s mother failed to make another sound.
“The Lord wanted them both,” her father had whispered. “He needs the good ones to be angels for him up above.”
Liz had watched him kiss the hand of the woman he’d loved. But it was only a short time later when Liz heard him down below cursing the same Lord he’d just defended.
Liz walked to the bed and sat beside her mother, releasing a scream so loud that the angels in Heaven should’ve fallen through the clouds. She’d hated them at that moment; every single one of them, who felt that they needed her mother more than she did.
Her scream had been so deafening, that Liz never even heard the gunshot that took her father’s life.
Liz shook her head and sat back up. Even after all these years, the memory was still too painful to relive. Besides, she should spend her time being grateful, not angry. The townspeople had taken it upon themselves to help her. After that horrible night, they fed her and kept her safe. Her friends and neighbors provided all the love she ever needed. Yet even though she’d be eighteen in a few months, her hatred for those so-called ‘angels’ had grown with each passing year.
Then, the blackouts started. Liz couldn’t remember how old she was when she’d first fainted dead away, but the spells had grown in number over the years. Night after night, Liz had found herself begging the angels that she hated to take her away—to let her join her mother and father. She’d apologized again and again for her anger and promised to make amends if they would just allow her entrance into their world. But…they hadn’t listened.
As time passed, Faith had walked into her life becoming the friend who would mend her broken dreams. Faith became a runaway at fifteen. She never spoke about where she came from. Four years ago, she’d simply appeared at the door and asked to stay. Liz remembered not having a second thought about the request, and over the last couple of years these two damaged girls formed a friendship that ensured their survival.
At the beginning, the blackouts had scared Faith. Liz had remained calm, telling her the episodes were her punishment for the hatred she’d shown to the angels. But she never told Faith about the bruises that appeared on her skin in the night, or the blood that stained her pillow after one of her strange spells. But this occurrence, Liz thought, was the strangest of them all. After today’s episode she felt lighter somehow, like the weight on her soul had been magically removed. Perhaps the angels had finally forgiven her for her angry words.
“Are we open for business, lass?” Sean shouted from down below.
Faith’s laughter broke through Liz’s haunted thoughts. Breaking out of her stupor, she reached up and pulled a dress from the shelf, fastened a crisp white apron around her small waist, and placed a matching ribbon in her hair. Taming her mass of soft red curls, she pulled her hair away from her face, and pinched her cheeks to replace some of the lost color. Drying her tears, Liz started down the ladder.
“Good evenin’ to you, Sean,” Liz said as she went to give the old man a kiss.
“My, but this is the prettiest place in all of Ireland, child.” Sean grinned. “What better place for an old man to come and rest his tired bones.”
Liz walked behind the bar to pour her neighbor a drink. “Are you hungry, Sean?”
Setting his large body on the stool, Sean added a wink to his relaxed sigh. “Just dry, Elizabeth. The fields were as mean as an unmarried harlot today. A few of these and I’ll be ready to be just as mean to her.”
The front doo
r opened and other villagers began their happy trek into their favorite establishment.
Faith laughed. “Come in and take a seat, friends. The work is over for the week. The ale is cold, the bread is warm, and I’m in rare form tonight.”
The men laughed and cheered. They seemed to love the warmth of the small local pub and the humor of the outspoken girl.
Liz played the perfect hostess, speaking to everyone and greeting the strangers with the same amount of kindness and interest as the regulars. She overheard the stories being woven by Sean, the county’s ‘great communicator.’ He began delivering the same fairy tales that’d been told for as long as she could remember, and as she listened Liz grew peaceful inside. These people made life worth living. And the brightest of the lot had just arrived.
She watched Daniel stride through the door with the excited step of a man without a care in the world. The wind rushed at his broad back, ruffling his golden-brown hair. The strapping seventeen-year-old had a truly handsome face, but when he unleashed his spectacular smile, the world—and most young girls’ hearts—stopped in their tracks.
Back straight and head held high, Daniel gave off a charm and elegance that Liz knew the hard-working farmers couldn’t quite match. He was the epitome of someone who deserved more than a quiet, simple life in a quiet, simple village.
It certainly didn’t hurt that Daniel was hysterically funny with a one-of-a-kind sparkle in his eye, but so far he hadn’t set out to charm any particular lady. In fact, besides Liz and Faith, Daniel never tried to get to know any girl—a point that Liz wished with all her heart she could change. She wanted so badly for him to find true love.
“Daniel,” Liz called out. “Could you please make the fire larger? We’ll need it if that wind brings in a good old Irish storm tonight.”