by White, L. C
“Remember Beth, you will be great…You are great… But you have to let me go.”
The door flies open as he kisses my head, emotionally. Sentinels I’ve never seen before charge into my room, and drag Tristen up to his feet. I jump up, noticing these Sentinels are dressed in gray attire, not black. Bennett jogs in, and tries to talk to the Sentinels.
I run outside as Tristen is marched down the corridor, with two guards to each side of him.
“TRISTEN,” I cry out as Kylie grabs my arm to stop me running after him.
I weep as he goes willingly, without turning back to me once.
I’m choking, sweating, and feel my legs getting weaker every second. Bennett races right up to me, and guides me back into my room.
“What the hell,” I scream. “What do they want with him?”
“He’s strayed off his path,” Bennett replies, rubbing his temples.
I stride up and down, gasping for air. “I want to see Michael!”
“Beth, you can’t simply make an appointment with an archangel,” Bennett says. “They request you only.”
“I don’t give a shit!” I stamp my boot down in fury. “I want to see him right now. I tell you what,” I raise my head and scream to the ceiling. “Michael, if you don’t see me, then you can fuck-off. I will go to the Shade, the devil, or whatever evil creature I can find. I will help them, not you.” I cough and choke. “Are you listening to me?”
Bennett appears before my panting body, and takes a hold of my biceps. “I will see what I can do, Beth. Please, calm down.”
In the spur of the moment, I find myself hugging Bennett. I don’t know why. I guess he’s the only one here who I know from the outside world. And right now, I need his help.
Chapter Nineteen: The Meeting
Beth
Bennett swore to me he’d be back. He promised he’d find out where Tristen was, and to find a way for me to see Michael. But he’s been gone for too long now, and I’m going out of my damn mind.
Tristen is going to be punished for protecting me, and that is so wrong. I don’t care about what he is. He said that he’s a part of the Shade. A lost soul, stained by hell. But he’s the only one who has made any sense to me in all this.
I bite my fingernails as I growl out, pacing the length of the library again. I came here thinking it would be a better place to wait for news. There are more distractions in here. The epic oil paintings. The rows and rows of books. The quiet. But no, coming here has only given me more room to pace up and down in, frantically. The paintings of angels and Michael being a warrior, have me fearing for Tristen’s life even more.
Scott and Kylie appear in the doorway. I stop, lowering my ragged raw fingernail from my mouth, hoping they have some news.
“Well?” I shout impatiently.
“Nothing,” Kylie says. “My rune stones have suddenly changed into useless blank pebbles.”
My eyes flick onto Scott. He has to know something.
“Sorry,” he says. “I’ve tried, but heaven and hell’s radios, are currently offline.”
“Shit,” I bark out. “And you have no idea where they’re taking him?” I ask in desperation.
“There is only one place they hold the sinful… the Rack,” Scott replies.
“The Rack?” I try not to scream.
“It’s a holding cell for angels and souls that are corrupt,” Kylie says. “There’s no way of finding it, because it’s constantly moving.”
“Oh god.” My shaky hands run down my face, as I drop down to sit on a long bench under the high gloss table.
“We will figure something out, Beth,” Kylie says.
“How… how the hell do we figure this out?” I yell.
“Just give Bennett some more time,” Scott says, walking to the doors. “I’m going to have to find David and warn the Sentinels. We don’t need the winged assholes coming down here, throwing their weight around.”
I bend over my knees and hold my face in my hands. I wish right now I did have some kind of angel power to use. All this is due to my impending enlightenment, but I feel nothing. I’m so angry. I want to hit something… someone.
“I should have told you about what we are,” Kylie says in a breath. “I should have warned you Tristen would be punished, bringing you down here.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“I guess we were all pinning our hopes on you. You have no idea how hard it is being a lost soul. We are constantly fighting to save ourselves. To find our place. We are all paying for what the Shade left us with.”
I should be understanding. I should tell her she shouldn’t be here for something she had no control over as a child. But I can’t. My face remains in my hands as my legs uncontrollably bob up and down.
“What’s it like?” Kylie asks.
Frowning, I lift my face from my hands. “What?”
“Living a human life?”
I smirk to myself. She wants to hear that my existence isn’t as messed up as hers. That living outside these walls is peaceful and happy. God, if she only knew, she’d be glad to be a Sentinel.
Before Tristen was took away, I was kind of liking it here. No sleep paralysis. No worry over my mom’s worry. No talk of homecoming. And Tristen’s touch. It all began to be less uneasy, like one day I would fit in here.
“You know, school, boys, and the parties?” she continues.
“It’s no different than this place. It’s a competition. It’s intense, and it’s hard trying to please everyone,” I say in a sigh.
“And your family?”
I really want to tell her to shut the hell up. What a stupid time to start quizzing me about life. I know she’s never had what I have. But jeez, there’s a time and a place to have a heart to heart. My life is shattering into a million pieces right now, and her pestering me is infuriating.
I ignore her and push myself up from the bench, brushing my clammy hands down my thighs. I walk to the bookshelf in front of me, my eyes journeying across the ancient volumes about angels, and mythical books as thick as shoe boxes.
“I’m sorry,” Kylie says, quietly.
I huff out a breath and turn to her. “I’m just a little tense.”
I form a small grin, but almost immediately it vanishes as my lips part, watching as the solid oak doors swing open. Bennett strides through the room, dipping his head at me. I take a few worried steps to him, feeling the blood draining away from my heart.
“You ready for this?” he asks. “Because I’m not.”
I swiftly dash to his side. I’m not ready to see my father after all these years. I’m not ready to meet an archangel. But I have to do this, for Tristen.
“Be careful,” Kylie calls out as we march to the doors. “I’ll be praying for you.”
***
I’m back in the elevator that brought me down here, but it’s a little different than before. There’s a completely new shiny silver number pad on the wall. I watch as Bennett types in the code: five-one-five-five-five.
“Are we going up this time?” I ask.
“We’re heading into murky waters, that’s where we’re going.” His body flinches as he steps back, holding the left side of his stomach.
I crease my eyes at him as the elevator lights flicker. Metal rubbing metal screeches, and the elevator shudders as it begins to move.
“Are you okay?” I ask Bennett, concerned with the pain making his face wrinkle and body flinch.
“I’m fine,” he gasps out, wincing.
I look down to where his hand holds his body, and see a small drop of blood on his cream shirt.
“No you’re not, you’re bleeding.” I step in front of him, pulling his hand away from his stomach.
“I told you, you can’t simply make an appointment to see Michael.” He hisses as I lift up his shirt a little. “I hope you have a damn good speech ready for him, to make all this worthwhile.”
I look down to just below his ribcage. His skin is raw and red. It s
mells like burnt flesh. And it’s bleeding. I see a symbol which looks like it’s been branded onto his body. A symbol that looks familiar to me. Oh god. I remember. I saw the exact same mark carved into my dad’s skin the night he was murdered. I become less concerned about Bennett’s pain, and more desperate to know what this mark means. I raise my curious eyes to his.
“It’s Michael’s signature. A calling card,” he says before I ask. “And he’s not happy I’ve used it.”
“Shit,” I utter, nerves swelling inside my chest.
“He won’t harm you,” Bennett says, tugging down his shirt. “But he won’t listen either. You can’t save Tristen. Tristen has always been lost.”
I swallow down the hard lump in my neck, now realizing that I’m just a piddly human being, about to give an archangel a piece of my mind.
“Why would you give up on him?” I ask.
“I haven’t. Why do you think I’m here,” he replies, tucking his shirt into his trousers. “Michael’s big plan didn’t involve you sleeping with the one he entrusted to protect you. If Tristen followed the path, then his soul would be free.”
My airway narrows as guilt hazes my view. Tristen sacrificed his soul to be with me. The thing is, that darkness in him, is what makes him human most of all. That is what I fell for.
The elevator shunts to a stop and the doors slowly slide open. A wave of anticipation has me holding my breath at the thought of what could be on the other side. Light streams onto me. Not bright heavenly lights, but normal daylight. I see a vast bare space, a sea of black marble flooring, and crisp white walls.
Bennet steps out and I follow with a frown, looking at the blue sky and wispy clouds through a wall of windows. There’s nothing here apart from one white door, hundreds of meters away in the distance. I feel like I’m in some kind of skyscraping bright office block.
“What is this place?” I move to the window and look down, but all I see is hazy cloud. “This is heaven?”
“A very small part of it. Michael likes his space,” he says in a snarky tone.
I would have never pictured heaven to be like this. I thought it would be like bare natural beauty; untouched lands in clouds. Similar to how my real Dad described the Grand Canyon. I thought there’d be waterfalls and light. Greenery coated landscapes. If there were buildings, I imagined them to be great historic structures, with stain glass windows and huge halls, similar to Tristen’s private quarters. But this place is bland and intimidating. I feel like I’m waiting to be interviewed at a huge corporate company.
“Have you been here before,” I ask, my boots squeaking across the shiny floor.
“Once, in person,” Bennett replies, leaning back on the wall, holding his injury. “Now, it’s mostly in dreams.”
“What happened to your family?” I ask, remembering how I thought he was having an affair with his receptionist.
“My son thankfully left home before all this started. My wife however, had a front row seat.” He sighs out loudly. “She thought I was crazy. She even went as far as threatening to report me to the medical health board. I had no choice but to accept what was happening, and push her away. I had to lie to her.”
I look down at my boots, feeling pity for him. “Sorry.”
He huffs out with a smirk. “Michael doesn’t want us to be happy,” he says as though he’s referring to Tristen and me. “He wants to save the soul of mankind, using the souls of others. Ironic really. We are nothing but pawns.”
“Will he kill Tristen?” My voice cracks at the thought.
“It will make no difference if he does or not. Tristen was an experiment for Michael. He believed the winged child was given to him for his purpose. Tristen has taken your heart away from the fight, and that has really pissed Michael off. You’ve been shown too much.”
“I don’t care, and neither should you. Michael is no better than Satan. One person’s life, is just as important as them all. And he’s an asshole for what he’s done!”
As though I’ve been heard yelling out insults, the door at the very end of the room swings open. My eyes nervously flick from Bennett and back onto the door. No one comes out, and the door is so far in the distance, I can’t make out what is on the other side.
Bennett pushes himself away from the wall with a shoulder shrug. “You go in there and tell him exactly what you think, Beth. You deserve that much. You may not get this opportunity again.”
Chapter Twenty: Underwhelmed
Tristen
My wrists and ankles are shackled in a holding cell, waiting to be sent to the Rack. I think deep down, I always knew I’d end up in chains. Michael misjudged me. Thought I’d given him my soul and body to use in his war. But it’s been brewing up inside me for years, and when I landed in Fort Carson, my mind was made even before I met Beth. I won’t be told what to do, and I won’t bow down to him.
The demon that possessed me as a child has gone, but it left me with things that don’t fit in on earth, or in heaven. A hideous deformity. A gift. A weapon that the angels want to use. Either way I’m scarred from it, but I’m scarred in a good way. I’m stronger than ten men. I have the ability to fly. And my agility is that of a snake. I was told that I could only use my abilities for god’s will. Now I’m seriously thinking of using them for my own.
I watch the gray Sentinels whispering in a huddle, and it makes me smile. These guys used to be down with us in the depths. But they’ve proven their worth to Michael, and have retired up here as his personal guards. Looking at them now, I’m glad I failed my mission. I can’t see myself parading around, doing nothing day in day out. I want to taste life. Live. I wanted Beth. Whether it’s seen as the devil’s doing or not, I don’t give a shit anymore. What’s the point in breathing, if you can’t live and love?
“Hey guys,” I yell at them. “Got any of that god awful moonshine shit you love so much down here? I could do with a drink right now.”
They all turn, staring at me with no emotion at all. Smiling, I tug the chains, recognizing one of them. Christopher Delany, recruited the same time as me. Now, his demon left him with a tail of all things. We used to call him swiper as kids. He could hang from it. Climb with it. And he could take out the Shades with one quick swoop. It was awesome to see, but also kind of gross. I appreciate the fact my wings are hidden beneath my skin. It would be a damn nightmare trying to fit through the corridors of headquarters with them hanging out.
I squint my eyes right at him. “Christopher, long time no see. How you liking being Michael’s personal ass-wiper?”
He takes one pissed-off step, but stops himself. That will be his, ‘all so mighty self-restraint,’ kicking in.
“Shut the fuck up Tristen,” he snaps, trying hard not to lose his angelness.
“Thought cursing was forbidden here.” I grin at him. “Come on, I’m only messing with you.”
“You’re in enough trouble,” he hisses, his body twitching for a fight.
The steel door at the top of the stairs opens, allowing light to cascade onto the bricks. The Sentinels quickly shuffle out of their huddle and stand to attention. I can’t deny the fact I’m nervous, though I will try to hide it. Even his slow thudding footsteps are extreme. He’s the one who saved me. He’s the one I have trained for. He’s the one they all fear. The righteous and mighty, Archangel Michael, who I’ve never laid eyes on before.
I pull up my bound hands, roll my shoulders, and straighten my back. I don’t know why, but I feel I have to show the same respect to him as the gray Sentinels do.
I watch his body come into the light, and I’m sort of underwhelmed. He’s just a man. Same build as I, looks in his early forties, with dark blonde hair. And he’s wearing this pompous fitted black suit, you’d see a city slicker wearing.
My eyes narrow on him. He does look like the angel painted in the many portraits hung wherever I go. But the artist definitely added the bulging muscles sticking out of his armor.
“Tristen Blake.” I bow my head and
keep it low, as he stops before the bars. “The only human boy to be possessed by a grade three Shade and live. The one touched and stained by Apollyon. The winged boy who has defiled my daughter, and nearly overturned an age old prophecy.”
I’m biting my tongue here. I feel like I’m back in Principle Masters office. If I tell an archangel to fuck-off, I’ll only have half a breath left in me.
“I suppose it’s all my fault. That is what Apollyon would say.” He hums, waiting for me to respond to the name of the demon that possessed me, but I stay silent. “I suppose he got a little angry about only being let out of hell, for special circumstances. I’m now understanding it wasn’t just the wings he gave you, but the failure to follow orders.”
He’s being so damn superior. So much so, my eyes are now gladly moving up to eyeball him. I’ve not heard that name in years. It was forbidden for me to inquire about it. So I know he’s only bringing it up to get a reaction out of me, and it seems to have worked. What makes him better than the demon which possessed me? He’s just pulling my strings in a different way.
“Better Tristen,” he says. “Lies are in the eyes.”
“I never defiled Beth. And what’s it to you anyway. Not exactly in the running to win Father of the year. You defiled her when you made her. She doesn’t deserve any of this!”
“I love my daughter, as I love all those I save. Including you, Tristen. But you have allowed yourself to sin, and you have given Beth doubt.”
“Doubt about what?” I yell. “She’s been haunted all these years and you allowed it.”
“Your orders were to protect and witness. Not to train her. Hide her. Or love her!”
“Yeah well, I couldn’t stand back and watch her suffering.” I blow out. “You the compassionate wrathful Michael, should understand that.”
I slam my back against the bricks, the heavy chains jangle as I run my hands over my face. Talking to him about feelings and emotions is useless. I can’t explain why this is a bad idea, why he shouldn’t use his daughter. He’s the one who created and abandoned her for this war. He washed his hands of her, and now so have I.