Quinlan nodded. "These street gangs can be pretty brutal when you make them loose face on their own turf."
"My thoughts exactly," Nina solemnly agreed. "And the next time I run into them there might not be a Samaritan around to save the day."
Quinlan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "And speaking of which, did you ever hear from the man who intervened last night?"
Nina wondered at the sudden change in the Seeker's demeanor. Sanders seemed to be affected as well. Their peculiar behavior prompted her to prevaricate. "He never came back to the rally after his abrupt departure, and I really hoped he would. I never got the chance to properly thank him. I just hope he didn't run into any of those Tigers."
The two Seekers exchanged nervous looks then Sanders turned grim eyes on her. "He did run into something, but it wasn't the Tiger Gang." He then related to her what he had witnessed the previous night. He also told her of her rescuer's numerous encounters with various Presbyterii agents over the years.
"And you think this Gabriel character is some type of angel or something?" Nina made sure to exude the proper amount of disbelief that such news would draw.
"We're not sure what he is," Quinlan candidly admitted. "We were hoping you could fill in some the blanks."
"I'm sorry guys but that was my first time meeting him." Nina was glad she hadn't revealed anything to them. Not that she had any great loyalty to Gabriel, but she had to admit that the Celemor had already acted on her behalf; twice. "And to be honest with you," she allowed a touch of fear to creep into her voice. "Considering what you just told me, I'm not really sure I want to meet him again."
The memory of Gabriel's actions sent a fresh wave of shivers down Sanders' spine. "I can definitely relate to you on that one, Miss Delcielo. However if he should happen to contact you again would you please give us a call? We would very much like to speak with him." He handed her a card with two phone numbers printed on one side and the image of a cross, a calligraphic "P" embedded in its center, on the other. "You can reach us at either of those numbers, twenty-four-seven."
"You can also contact us if you change your mind about accepting the Presbyterii's offer," Quinlan added.
Nina studied the card for a moment then placed it on the table before her. "I'll definitely keep that in mind." She rose gracefully from her seat. "I must say, gentlemen, this has been a very…enlightening morning for me."
"I'm sure it has been," Quinlan said, he and Sanders, picking up on her less than subtle hint getting to their feet as well. "And we do apologize for our original deception."
Nina waved his apology aside. "Considering the circumstances, I completely understand."
She led them back to the door, Quinlan reiterating once more that she should not hesitate to call upon them should the need arise.
Nina assured them she would then closed the door; relaxing against it with a relieved sigh.
"Oh, come on Nina," Gabriel's amused voice startled her as he materialized on the sofa. "Their little interrogation wasn't that bad."
Nina plopped down on the sofa next to him. "That’s easy for you to say; and where the hell did you disappear to anyway?"
"I was right here all along." He allowed his body to fade partially away.
"That's a neat trick," she cried, impressed by his vanishing act.
Gabriel became fully visible again. "It comes in handy for evading Presbyterii puppets."
"I take it you don't much care for them."
"Oh, they're a decent enough group of fellows. At the least the ones that I've run to have been, but they're dedication to their sad little crusade makes my job harder than it needs to be."
"Then why don't you drop the façade and tell them who you are?"
"It's up to God to make that kind of disclosure."
"Well what the hell is He waiting for?"
Gabriel shrugged. "I have no clue. The higher-ups never include me in the Heavenly board meetings."
Again she heard the bitterness in his voice. "If you dislike being a Celemor so much, why do you continue to do it?"
A myriad of emotions flickered across his face, and a wistful sigh escaped his lips. "You give up a few things…when you're taking care of your family."
His whispered response asked more questions than it answered but Nina didn't press the matter. "So what happens now?"
"Basically you go on with your normal life," Gabriel replied, his moment of introspection passed. "Now that you know the truth of who you are, and how the universe works, you may start to discover the reason for your Emergence."
A hopeful look appeared on Nina's face. "That would be nice; and what about you?"
The Celemor flashed the Harbinger a reassuring smile. "I'll always be close by; though not too close," he added with a wink.
Nina opened her mouth to respond, but he disappeared before she could utter a word, leaving her feeling surprisingly alone.
Chapter 17
The agonized scream echoing through the halls of the Tower of Self gave credence to the horrific stories of torture and suffering usually associated with Iblis and his minions. Ironically enough, the Lord of Hell rarely meted out severe forms of punishment to his erring servants. For the current transgressor he decided to make an exception. Her disobedience deserved special attention.
"I distinctly remember telling you to keep a low profile," Iblis drawled running a delicate finger across the seared flesh of Mayhem's cheek. "What part of that request didn't you understand?"
The Desomor made no attempt to respond for she knew that offering petty excuses would only draw out this torturous process. Her safest recourse was to remain silent and endure; a resolution being soundly put to the test as a renewed surge of Celestial Fire engulfed her hovering form, drawing another painful cry from her charred lips.
To Silas, hovering silently by his master's side, Mayhem's agony was a joy to behold. He had suffered numerous indignities from the upstart Desomor. Perhaps this ordeal would instill a bit more respect in her platinum-haired skull.
"What you can't appreciate, Mayhem is that my taking full advantage of the Harbinger's talents requires her willing cooperation," Iblis patiently explained. "Originally I planned to accomplish that through a few simple manipulations, and given the woman's tenuous hold of Mortalia's accepted religious parameters, that Task might've been easily accomplished."
Iblis's eyes emitted a soft glow, and Mayhem's suspended form floated closer to him. "But now that you've alerted that pompous ingrate, Gabriel, whose affection you so desperately crave," he added icily. "Garnering her trust will require considerably more effort."
"I'm…sorry…my…lord…" Mayhem croaked. "Please….for…forgive…me…"
Iblis coldly regarded the Desomor. "Given the additional losses I have suffered as a result of your impetuousness, do you truly feel forgiveness is what you deserve?"
Mayhem knew he was referring to Azreal's death, and she lowered her head in despair, unable to meet the censure in his eyes. "No, my lord," she uttered in a small voice, preparing her self for what was sure to be her final moments.
Iblis gave her face a searching look then laid his hand against her cheek. Mayhem flinched then relaxed as a nimbus of energy flowed from his fingers, instantly regenerating her burned flesh. "Be thankful that you are one of my favorites," he whispered, his lips brushing lightly against her ear. "But disobey me again and you'll spend eternity as a rotting corpse. Have I made myself clear?" He released his hold over her body.
"Abundantly so," she whispered after gracing his lips with a gentle kiss. "And I swear I will never fail you like that again."
"You'd better not." Iblis's whispered warning reverberated coldly in her ear.
"I told you that woman could not be trusted to act accordingly in matters concerning Gabriel," Silas ground out after Mayhem had left.
Iblis dismissed the Morphling's censure with an amused snort. "So you did, Silas. It's not the first time your instincts have proven accurate, and I'm sure i
t will not be the last."
"Then why do you continue to suffer that arrogant wench?"
Iblis rubbed thoughtfully at his lips, the taste of Mayhem's kiss still upon them. "I often wonder that myself. At any rate her disobedience proved to be quite fortuitous."
Silas arched a questioning eyebrow. "In what way?"
The Lord of Hell's lip's parted in a devious smile. "When have you ever known Caleb to involve himself in anyone's crusade other than his own?"
A look of disbelief crossed the Morphling's face. "Are you saying that the Archangels have relaxed their censure of him and enlisted his aid as well?"
"I'm saying that his presence indicates that something major is in the works."
"Perhaps the Almighty has decided to end the charade of the Human belief system," Silas speculated. "They are the so-called chosen race. Maybe He feels that the time has finally come for them to grow up and assume that responsibility. And if that is the case, perhaps it would be best if you removed yourself from the equation and allow matters to proceed accordingly."
Iblis's eyes bulged slightly. "And why would I want to do that?"
"You're negative position within the majority of Mortalia's spiritual infrastructures are due mostly in part to their misinformed belief systems. If the Almighty is prepared to re-educate the Realm, the truth of your being will be revealed as well. When that happens, the Mortals will not look upon the choice to follow you and your Doctrines of Self as the damnable course such a decision has always been portrayed."
The office was silent for several minutes as Iblis pondered Silas's theory. What the Morphling was saying did have merit. In the beginning, all Iblis had wanted to do was prove to his father that omnipotence didn't necessarily translate into infallibility of judgment in what was ‘right' and what was ‘wrong' where Mortalia was concerned. Somehow the message had gotten twisted, resulting in him bearing the brunt of the Realm's antipathy as well as the censure of his Celestial peers.
Perhaps that's the reason The Almighty has allowed the lie to continue for as long as it has. To engineer my defeat through circumstance as opposed to a direct confrontation.
"You're point is valid Silas," he said to the Morphling waiting quietly beside him. "But it still begs the question of ‘why' is he doing it, which is what I need to determine."
"And you have a plan for doing that?"
A curious gleam lit the Lord of Hell's blue eyes, and he favored the Morphling with a devious grin. "As a matter of fact I do; one that even your cynical mind will appreciate."
A subtle realignment of the Morphling's sallow features effectively conveyed his skepticism. "That would be a first."
Iblis's smile deepened. "Summon the Desomor, Darius to me at once," he ordered, his folded wings giving a slight flutter as he altered his position in front of the office's large windows so he could gaze out over his domain. "His particular talents are aptly suited for what I have in mind."
Silas's hovering form grew still for a moment, his eyes unfocused. Within moments, there came a discreet knocking against the office's closed door.
"Enter," Iblis called, and a tall smartly-dressed Mortal strode purposefully into the office.
He gave Iblis a respectful bow. "You summoned me, my lord?"
"I have a new Task for you Darius. A Harbinger has recently Emerged on Earth; one who's ability could serve me well. I want you to acquaint yourself with her in a manner that will show her the value of my Doctrines. Feel free to use whatever means necessary to sway her to our cause, but under no circumstances are you to manipulate her sensibilities."
The Desomor's thick eyebrows arched upward. "You want her conversion to be of her own free will?"
"It's imperative that is," Iblis stressed. "I've a feeling that this woman will eventually hold a significant amount of influence within Mortalia's spiritual infrastructure. If I can garner her honest support, I may be able to erase the wretched stigmatism currently associated with my existence."
An excited gleam lit Darius' brown eyes. "I understand; and the Harbinger's name?"
Silas made a gesture with his hand, and Nina's image materialized in the air before them. "Nina Delcielo."
Darius studied the image closely. "Very nice; do we have any specifics on the type of woman she is?"
"Extremely intelligent and very dedicated to her philanthropic pursuits, most of which centers around helping underprivileged children," Silas replied.
A pleased smile lit the Desomor's handsome features. "That's definitely something I'll be able to use to our advantage. Are there any other pertinent details I should know about?"
A look of displeasure appeared on the Morphling's face. "The Celemor Gabriel has been dispatched as her guardian."
The Desomor's smile deepened. "Ah, the ever-reliable Gabriel; his presence will make this assignment all the more interesting."
Iblis's eyes narrowed slightly. "I trust interesting will not become distracting."
"You have nothing to fear on that account," Darius confidently assured his master. "Unlike Mayhem, I harbor no attraction for Omen's pet guardian."
Iblis studied the Desomor for a moment, and a slight smile curved his lips. "Good. See that it stays that way."
"Of course, my lord." Darius inclined his head respectfully toward his master, gave the Morphling a parting nod then quietly exited.
*
Darius carefully wove his way through the mist-shrouded region of Sublimia known as the Wastelands, wondering as always why the Almighty would craft such a dismal abyss considering the glorious splendor he poured into the other Realms. But then little of God's logic made sense to the Desomor, particularly the callous indifference he often showed the inhabitants of Mortalia.
Memories of his mother's final agonizing days as the cancer finished ravishing what was left of her frail body flitted through Darius's mind, rekindling the Desomor's bitterness for the Almighty's so-called mercy.
Darius did not blame God for his mother's illness. Such were the banes of being Mortal, but a woman as devout in her Christian faith as she was should not have been made to suffer as she had.
"Benevolent and loving god, indeed," he spat.
"Your tone bears the sting of anger, Darius," a raspy voice sounded in the Desomor's ear, pulling his attention sharply away from his reflections. "What troubles you this day?"
"Just a few…Divine reflections, Shift," Darius responded to the Morphling materializing in the murky air before him. "Nothing you need concern yourself with.
The Morphling's form solidified into that of a comely female. "Concerning my self with your needs is a habit I find most enjoyable, my love, that one in particular." She looked suggestively at his groin.
Darius took hold of Shift's hand and drew her close so he could place a kiss against her soft lips. "You, my shape-changing nymph, are deliciously wicked. But I have another use for that delightfully formless body of yours; one that involves the swaying of a recently Emerged Harbinger to my Master's side."
"Sounds interesting," Shift purred, letting her hands follow the trail blazed by her eyes. "And just what might this new Task be?"
Darius groaned, his body responding to the Morphling's skillful touch. "I'll tell you after you've tended my…'needs'!"
Chapter 18
The fire burned with a white-hot intensity, searing Nina's eyes as she desperately tried to claw her way through the wreckage. If she could just make it to the theatre's flaming entryway she knew she would be safe.
All around her the screams and whimpers of several other patrons assailed her ears but there was nothing she could do. The wall of fire was coming closer. Already she could feel its deadly touch as flecks of charred debris began raining down from the massive screen in front of her. If she could just make it to that door…!
The screech of tearing metal sounded loudly over the roar of the flames. She risked a glance upward; her eyes widening in horror. A massive speaker tore free of its heat-damaged clamps and crashed down in fro
nt of her, blocking her escape.
"No," she screamed as the flames licked at her skin. "NO!"
"Easy, Nina," a soothing voice penetrated the haze of smoke and confusion. "You're safe."
"Safe?" Nina blinked several times, her head swiveling around while she tried to discern her surroundings. "Gabriel," she cried in relief when she realized that it was him sitting beside her on the bed.
"In the flesh," he whispered. He took gentle hold of her trembling hand. "Was it another vision?"
"It was more like a nightmare." She moved his hand to the back of her neck.
The Celemor took the hint and began a gentle message, infusing his touch with a small amount of the Celestial energy coursing through his body.
Nina reveled in the unusual sensation. "That feels wonderful. Is this something you learned in Celemor School?"
Gabriel smiled. "More or less." He readjusted his position on the bed so he could bring his other hand to bear on her knotted muscles. "So tell me about your nightmare."
Nina stared at the Canadian skyline visible through her bedroom window. When she finally spoke her tone was subdued. "I was at the IMAX Theater, the one at the Henry Ford Museum I think, and the place was packed…" Her voice faltered as the image of burning bodies loomed before her. Gabriel gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze, and she continued. "From what I could tell, something exploded behind the screen catching the front seats on fire. After that everything seemed to be burning."
"Sounds pretty intense. Perhaps you should putt in a call to that Thomlin fellow; tell him to pass the word on to the theater so they can check their equipment."
A touch of reluctance stirred in Nina's chest. "I don't know, Gabe. Maybe this really was just a bad dream."
"No, it was definitely a premonition."
She turned to him with questioning eyes. "How do you know that?"
He removed his hands from her shoulders, and nodded toward her dresser's mirror on the opposite wall. "Take a look for your self."
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