The Last Rogue Soul

by S E Brower

  Together, they began up the path leading to the chapel. As they walked, Jessie wanted to ask what was going on, but it would have to wait. In the meantime, there were other questions burning in her mind, it was just her nature to be inquisitive. Besides, she needed something else to think about. “So, what’s The Father like?” she stole a quick glance at him, as he shrugged his shoulders.

  “I have never met him. Guardians take direction from The Author of the Guardian Library. It is The Author who addresses The Father. Guardians are subordinates.”

  “But, you’re an Angel, how could you not have met him? You pray to him, don’t you? You must.”

  “Always,” he answered. “Dear Jessica, you know who your President is, do you not?”

  “Yes, I know who the President is. What has that to do with anything?” she glared at him.

  “You have ways to contact him, do you not?”

  “I do, I guess, through emails and social media, that kind of thing.” Still she did not understand.

  “Have you ever met him?”

  “Okay, no I haven’t. Good point.”

  Silent for about 30 seconds, Jessie blurted out, “Not to be rude, but may I ask, how old are you? And where do you come from? Or, aren’t we allowed to go there?”

  He smiled at her childlike curiosity, “We age, but not in the same way as humans. Angels such as I are as old as time, and as for where I am from…” he looked up. Not knowing why, Jessie looked up too.

  “I know they can cast you out, but can you die? You are an immortal, aren’t you?”

  “Dear Jessica, I am not a mortal, and I am not a deity.”

  “So, was that a yes?” her brown eyes questioning.

  “That was a yes. But only another immortal or The Father himself could do such a thing.” His answer didn’t make her feel any better.

  They walked along in silence, when she stopped. “The day you left my mother alone and everything changed, why didn’t you just do it in celestial time? It would have been as if you had never left, am I right?”

  Drummondax couldn’t conceal the shame he felt. “I left your mother’s side in the Earthly realm, for movement in Celestial time is more closely monitored. I wished not, for The Author to discover my disobedience.”

  “I see,” disappointed in his answer, Jessie looked down at her shoes. When she lifted her head, her eyes met his. “What?” she demanded, “there is something else, so spit it out.”

  “I must tell you, I have once again broken the protocol. Travel within the realm of Earth ages celestials.”

  “So, you are aging as we speak?”

  “I am, but I wish to keep this meeting clandestine for as long as possible.”

  His answer seemed to mollify her. They continued walking until she couldn’t resist just one more question.

  “Do you ever get a break?”

  “I understand no need for a break, as you say.”

  “Well,” Jessie’s bag slipped as she walked. She hiked it back up onto her shoulder, switching her phone to the other ear, and kept moving. “Maybe if you took a break, you wouldn’t have looked away when my mother needed you most.” Her tone was not accusatory, just a matter of fact. He did not respond. “I just mean, if you had a vacation, maybe Mom’s destiny wouldn’t have changed.” Drummondax stopped short, making her stop, too. As he spoke, Jessie scanned their surroundings making sure no one was around.

  “Perhaps you are correct, Jessica. However, consider you would not exist, if that were the case.”

  “It’s a valid point. But still, no vacation… geez,” she shook her head. Still keeping up the pretense of the cell phone, Jessie took another quick look around, deciding she could put it away. With the Chapel in view, her thoughts returned to the bull’s eye on her back. Her head pounded as her blood pressure rose.

  “Watch out!” he shouted at her. She startled, tripping over a rock in the path, almost falling.

  “A little more notice next time,” she grumbled, and to her surprise, he laughed. Worry over her current situation had her upset. Now she was embarrassed from tripping, which irritated her. “Why are you just walking with me, anyway?” she asked in a huff. Again, she pressed him, “Why didn’t you just fly there and wait for me?” When he sighed, Jessie knew he was losing patience with her. It was the same sound Michael made when he tired of her endless questions. They walked up the last hill before he spoke again.

  “Does my presence at your side upset you? If so, I shall keep my contact with you to a minimum.” He looked straight ahead as he walked.

  “No, no,” Jessie spoke up right away. Scared that if he left, she might never see him again. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant, I ask too many questions.”

  “You wanted to know why I did not fly. In this instance, there is no reason to use these wings.”

  “If I had wings, I can’t think of too many instances where I wouldn’t use them.”

  “Wings are a gift that one should revere, not flaunt,” his expression showed his disapproval.

  But Jessie was defiant, “Oh yes, they are, I would flaunt them. I would rock those wings, and I would even have shoes to match.”

  He stopped dead in his tracks. “Who are you, Jessica Elaine?” he shook his head, his expression solemn.

  “Just a girl, I don’t know, you tell me. Apparently, I’ve upset the universe. This is celestial stuff, sort of your realm, not mine.” He knew she was right. The difficulty she found herself in wasn’t hers to figure out. It was up to him. He failed her mother, Faith. He would not repeat his mistakes with Faith’s daughter.

  Reaching the small chapel, a stone path lead to old wooden doors, where they entered together. Inside it was quiet, the light dim and peaceful. It took Jessie’s eyes a minute to adjust to the change from the brightness outside.

  Being an old building with no plumbing or heating, the walls held the dampness from the rain earlier making it cool inside even though outside, it was becoming humid.

  “How often does one enter a church from the 1700s …with a Guardian Angel no less?” Jessie wondered, shivering a little as she looked around, not just from the change in temperature.

  There were just six pews. A solitary pulpit stood towards the back of the chapel. As no one else was around they sat down together. “In all of my memory The Author has never made such an unconscionable directive. I know not why he would ask such a thing of me.”

  Jessie just sat staring at a lady bug crawling across the top of the pew in front of them, the gravity of her situation sunk in. “I wonder if she has problems?” she thought, “and… now I’m envious of a lady bug.” “It’s not like I can go to the police with something like this. They would have me placed in a rubber room, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do,” he nodded.

  “So, let me get this straight. After your screw up… er… um… sorry, after my mom’s destiny changed, she was to have had a son, with the minister she was engaged to, before she married my dad, right?” He nodded, “And then my brother was born, a son, and everything seemed fine, right?” And again, he nodded in affirmation. “But then, I was born. They had not destined her to have a daughter.” He watched the comprehension wash across Jessie’s face, as she pieced it all together.

  “But, as soon as I was born, The Author would have known someone altered her destiny.” Her eyes wide open at this new revelation, her expression changed to one of confusion. “Why didn’t he do something then?” Drummondax searched her face, as if he would find an answer there.

  “Very perceptive of you, Jessica. It is this, which I cannot reconcile. I shall have to investigate to uncover the reason for the deferment of acknowledging my… screw up, as you so aptly put it, and why he would choose this time and this directive.”

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “I am sorry, Jessica. I have put you in this peril.” Jessie was quiet. Yet, still he could not read her thoughts, and found it disconcerting. “Jessica, you cam
e to a church. Why?”

  “I have no idea, it just seemed right.”

  Again, he searched her face, looking for… he wasn’t sure what. “I shall seek The Author to stall, but I know not, what more I could do. I promise you this, come what may, I will protect you.”

  “Thank you, Dax, I know you will. But, if even ‘you’ don’t know what to do, I doubt a priest or minister could help us, either.”

  For what seemed a long time, they sat in the stillness of the tiny chapel. It was Jessie who once again, broke the silence. “Well, I won’t sit here and do nothing. I don’t know what you will do, but my life is on the line.” Then, Jessie brightened, “My brother is a producer at a TV station. He has access to tons of information, lots of resources. If anyone could help me, he can.”

  Drummondax started to say something, then was on his feet. “I must leave you now, Jessica.”

  “I know,” she said, “there was a stir, I felt it, too.” He didn’t have to say it, the shock on his face spoke volumes. “Go,” she said, “you will know how to find me. I need to be with my family, anyway.” And with that, he disappeared.

  Jessie got up to leave noticing an old wooden donations box mounted on the wall beside the doors where they entered.

  A sign read: Patriot’s Chapel, Built, 1791, Open from dawn to dusk daily, all are welcome. Please treat our special church and visitors with respect. We appreciate donations for care and maintenance. Thank you, Norman Parkerton, Pastor and Chapel Sexton.

  She dug through her bag for some loose bills and change dropping them into the box. As she turned to leave, she said aloud to no one in particular, “Thank you Pastor Parkerton, for taking care of this lovely old church.”

  She startled when a voice behind her answered. “Why thank you, young lady, you are welcome.” Turning around, Jessie saw an older gentleman, with a warm smile on his face, framed by wispy snow-white hair, dressed in an old sweatshirt and jeans splattered with dirt.

  Removing his worn-out gardening gloves, and producing a handkerchief from his back pocket, he wiped the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “I was just taking a short break from gardening,” he smiled at her. She thought it funny that she and Dax had just talked about taking a break.

  He sat down on the pew closest to the door. “This old place has seen baptisms and weddings, but mostly wayward visitors. I am always inclined to inquire what brings them here today.”

  The question struck Jessie, as it yanked her back into the reality of her mother’s funeral, choking back unwanted tears in front of a stranger. “My mother brings me here today.”

  “Is she with you?”

  “She is always with me, now,” Jessie whispered, looking in the direction of the cemetery.

  “I am sorry for your loss, young lady.”

  “Thank you,” Jessie looked down, as one rogue tear hit the chapel floor with a splat. Not wanting to appear rude, she lifted her head, smiling weakly.

  After a slight, awkward silence, the Pastor noticed the sheet music peeking out of her bag. “I so enjoyed your song a little while ago. I am not familiar with it.”

  Jessie, then gave him a genuine smile. “I have just composed it for my mom. She would have loved a day like today.”

  “You composed it you say, what is its title?”

  “I call it ‘Somber Rain’, though it’s not quite completed yet.”

  “I’m sure your mother loved it.”

  “Thank you, I have to go now. But it was very nice talking with you.”

  Just as Jessie turned to leave, he said, “One more thing.” She stopped and looked back at him, the smile gone from his face.

  “For The Father is Our Father, forever and ever. He will be our guide even to the end. Remember it, Jessica.”

  “Thank you, I will,” she replied. “How oddly appropriate,” she thought, turning once more to leave only to stop again. “But, how did you know my… name?” As she spun around to ask, there was no one there. The chapel stood empty.

  Chapter 9

  A Feather for Your Thoughts

  Drummondax left Jessie sitting in the little Patriot’s Chapel upon feeling the “stir” in the Celestial Realm. An explanation eluded him. “I am overlooking something,” he thought, “poor sweet Jessica, whom I am to dispatch of, in exchange for clemency.” His heart ached. The very idea of ending her life, repelled him. She was born, and even then, The Author did nothing to admonish him.

  “Why?” he wondered. It made little sense. “The Author would have noticed her birth.” The beleaguered Angel continued recounting every detail in his mind. “Yet twenty-seven earthly years passed from the time of her birth, for The Author’s wrath to find me. When at last, it did, there was no hiding.

  For the five years following, I was a companion and Guardian to her mother. Now, Jessica, at 32 years of age, a wife, and mother of two children, singled out for elimination. What reason could The Author have for wanting her dead? Why would he want me, her mother’s Guardian, to be her executioner?”

  He needed more information, and soon. Time was short. The Author would grow impatient. Drummondax determined he must return to the Guardian Library if he wanted answers. It would be dangerous, and he must avoid The Author, or all would be for naught. It was the logical place to begin.

  Arriving at the Guardian Library, he found himself in the center of a large empty cathedral. It was circular, with an ornate domed ceiling, gleaming marble tile floor, and walls lined with tall pillars only eight feet apart. An empty podium stood in the center of the vast space, surrounded by four additional pillars. Besides that, there was nothing.

  Before this, he had only been within the confines of the Library at the behest of The Author. Everything looked unfamiliar. To his surprise, he wasn’t at all sure how the Library even worked.

  Alone, without a clue of where to begin, he thought of calling out for help, but did not wish to alert The Author to his presence. His only option was to go about it unaided. “This will be a most arduous task,” he thought, “I must not fail. The Author is hiding something.” He was deep in thought, when a soft low voice spoke behind him.

  “May I help you?” He turned around. In front of him stood a beautiful, mature Angel. Her hair was long and golden, falling in waves around the chiseled features of her face. She had graceful wings of classical white, shimmering with a dusting of gold, to match the long flowing gown she wore.

  Her mouth seemed tense, but she looked at him with compassion. Perhaps she would assist him. Her eyes were unusual, a beautiful shade of violet, contradicting the coldness of her stare.

  “I know your presence here is unwarranted,” she said. Before he could reply, the voice of The Author approaching, silenced them both. Drummondax hoped not to be given away, his expression pleaded his case.

  She thought for only a second, and then, as if disappointed in herself for this decision, shook her head, and huffed. Placing a single finger in front of her lips with one hand, and with the other beckoned him to follow. Together they disappeared down a long hallway, which wasn’t there only seconds before!

  The hallway lined with unimaginable numbers of books and scrolls, continuing as far as the eye could see. The opening they walked through closed behind them, and as it did, she turned on him demanding in a whisper, “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

  “Thank you, for concealing me,” he answered, keeping his voice low.

  “Who are you? What business, have you here?”

  “Forgive me,” he bowed, “I am Drummondax, Angel of the Guardians. And you are?”

  She ignored his inquiry staring up at him, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Guardians do not enter the Library unless summoned or have news of consequence to report. You wish to remain unnoticed, therefore I suspect you have no news, and The Author did not summon you. Why are you here?”

  “Knowledge,” he answered, “I wish to view a book.”

  “Obviously. Whose book is it you wish to see? I will nee
d a name.”

  “Elaine Faith Archer Barrett,” he said, remaining cordial, not wanting to give away the urgency of his request.

  “Why? Who is this human to you?” she stood there, arms crossed, awaiting his reply. To her, his motives seemed suspect. He realized he was not the only one with trust issues.

  “I was her Guardian, I–”

  “Was… you say,” she cut him off mid-sentence, “meaning, she has progressed. If you were her Guardian, then you should know all things of her. There is no need for you to see her Life’s Book.” Her eyes were castigating him, her annoyance with his presence written on her face.

  “Please, it’s important.”

  She didn’t answer, but instead flashed him a look of disdain, as if to say, what could be so important, and why should I help you. But she had helped him without knowing a thing about him. He could see through her facade. She had compassion, and he needed her cooperation. He would have to trust her.

  “The life of her daughter is in jeopardy, if you do not help me, she will die.”

  Frowning, she hung her head as her mind’s inner battle raged. Exhaling a heavy sigh of resignation, “This way,” she nodded. The doorway through which they entered, was open once more. Holding up her hand to him, he understood. Remaining still, she poked her head into the main Library, to see if The Author was gone. He was, and so she motioned for Drummondax to follow.

  The doorway closed behind them, when they again entered the Library. Swiftly, she crossed the center where he’d first arrived. Drummondax hurrying to catch up with her. Reaching her side, he heard her say, “Aalonray,” as she continued moving to the other side of the Library. He looked confused. Her eyes sparked with impatience as she repeated, “Aalonray is my name. Here,” she halted.

  An additional doorway opened revealing another long corridor, also filled with books and scrolls. They stepped through, and the circular main Library behind them disappeared.