The Wanderer's Children

by L. G. O'Connor

  “Absolutely. Should I be worried?”

  His eyes tracked Michael and Brett to hide their discussion. “I don’t know.”

  She resisted the urge to drag him into the hallway when she registered his bittersweet answer. But there wasn’t anything she could do about it right now anyway.

  Michael tried to wipe away his grin, slipping into a seat on the opposite side of the conference table. “How’s it going?”

  “Hi, guys.” Brett tucked a clump of blond hair behind his ear and sat beside Michael.

  Kai pushed back the chair next to Brett.

  She crossed her arms in front of her and smirked. “So. What have you been up to?”

  “Kai couldn’t join us, but I gave Brett the tour.” Michael coughed into his fist and said, “We were discussing some options for the Messenger coursework.”

  Simon’s mouth split into a smug smile next to her. “Hmm. There’s only one course of study that would have you all shifting in your seats like that.”

  “No need to spell it out, Simon.” Michael turned red and gave him a warning look, casting a quick glance in her direction.

  Cara rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Like I don’t know you’re talking about Sensual Pleasures training. If you want my vote, do the woman in your lives a favor and take it.”

  Simon chuckled deeply next to her.

  Kai tried to hide the dirty look he gave her. “Thanks a lot.” He fired over their personal telepathic channel.

  “I never had any complaints.” She fired back innocently.

  Brett laced his fingers behind his head, his dimple denting his cheek. “There’s not much to improve on, but I’m willing to give it a shot.”

  Constantina glided into the room, closing the door behind her. She’d changed out of her robes and into a blue dress the color of her eyes, her blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun.

  “Ah, I see you’re all here. Good.” She took a seat at the end of the table closest to them, and beamed at Brett and Kai. “I’m so pleased you’ve both officially accepted your Messenger Calling.”

  “Congrats,” Cara said to Kai telepathically. He flashed a look at her, and smiled. Given Kai’s agnostic beliefs, this was a big step for him.

  “When will I find out more about my real father?” Brett asked, tension filling his shoulders.

  “Shortly.” Constantina sat at the head of the table and clasped her hands. “Thank you all for your patience. Destiny sometimes takes a circuitous path as we follow our free will and make our choices. It also takes time to unfold, taking us on journeys we may not expect to have, yet delivering us exactly where we need to be. I think that will be true for all of you.”

  Investment banker to Soul Seeker. Yeah. Circuitous was one word for it, Cara thought.

  “Up until now, Cara, you and Simon have walked alone in the knowledge of your place. Today, I will officially confirm more of the Twelve.”

  “How many more?” Cara asked Constantina, already knowing about Brett.

  “Patience, dear one,” she replied and pressed her lips together, her shoulders tense. “I’ve already shared some of this with you and Simon the night of our dinner last week. Angel wasn’t all together wrong when he mentioned there was something I wasn’t willing to reveal. There’s a reason we’re meeting in this part of the compound, and not in the section designated for the High Council.”

  “Is this about the traitor?” Simon’s jaw clenched.

  “Yes. What I didn’t fully disclose was that I’ve suspected an infiltration since the time you were born,” she said, glancing at Simon.

  Cara frowned. “For almost one hundred and fifty years?”

  Constantina nodded, pain reflecting in her sad smile. “That’s why I secretly enlisted an old friend to help more than half a century ago outside the auspices of the High Council…before I descended into this lifetime. At my request, he agreed to descend for one lifetime and become the Wanderer.”

  “Was he murdered like Angel said?” Brett asked intently.

  “Not by your definition,” she said cryptically with a tight smile. “But that’s not what I brought you here today to discuss.” Constantina’s eyes shifted from Brett to Cara. “Cara guessed rightly in New York that you, Brett, are the Third of the Twelve who will lead our battle against the Dark Ones.”

  Brett frowned at Cara. “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”

  Cara shook her head. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my place. But even so, if you hadn’t lived through the last several days, would you even have believed me?”

  He opened his mouth and then closed it, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You have a point.”

  “Let Constantina speak,” Simon said firmly.

  “Thank you. Four of the Wanderer’s children are destined to be part of the Twelve. Brett is but one.”

  Brett’s lips parted in surprise. “There are four of us?”

  “More actually. But only four boys—now gifted men—have been chosen. You are his third son.”

  “Who are the other three?” Brett asked anxiously.

  “Two are near. We’re still trying to verify the identity of his second son. He was the only child living outside of the United States, and whose surveillance arrangement was unknown to me.”

  A thousand questions screamed a path through Cara’s head. She looked at Constantina. “Wait. I don’t get it. Why do you call this man the Wanderer? Who was he?”

  Constantina smiled sadly. “I called him that to protect his identity. No one knew his earthly purpose except for him, I and, eventually, Benedictine. He was very special, and so was his bloodline. We needed him to create offspring and to keep his children hidden. How better to hide them than as the children of other men? His sons, together, form an essential function to the Twelve. Without them, we will not succeed.”

  “I don’t understand. Is that why I’m here?” asked Kai, a shimmer of apprehension in his eyes.

  Constantina smiled kindly at him. “Dear one, how much do you know about your real father?”

  Kai swallowed and his eyes glistened. Unconsciously, he moved back deeper in his chair, distancing himself from the table. The bitter lemonade taste of his fear danced on her tongue.

  “Not much,” he whispered, shaking his head.

  She said gently, “You, dear one, are the Wanderer’s first born.”

  Constantina’s words hit Cara right between the eyes. Kai and Brett are brothers? Her mouth hung open and her eyes bounced between their faces, searching for the similarities.

  She traced the same angle of their high cheekbones and the shape of their eyes. The color was similar yet not the same. The fullness of their lips—yes—the same. The shape of their noses was different, providing the largest disparity. Piece by piece, she plucked out the resemblance. As Cara thought back, she vaguely remembered Brett reminding her of Kai when they’d first met.

  Cara watched shock spread across Kai’s face, melting into understanding as he sat silent and stunned. Kai always thought his father had abandoned him. Now he knew that was the plan all along. Her heart wretched for him, knowing how much his father’s abandonment had scarred him.

  “Kai, Brett. Please understand, your father is an amazing soul. I can promise you both, even though he couldn’t be with you, he loved you both very much.”

  A scowl played across Brett’s face, his anger flaring. “Then how could he let someone else raise me?”

  “He made the ultimate sacrifice in doing so. He did it to keep you safe.”

  Brett slammed his hand on the table. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Constantina looked at both Kai and Brett. “He’s never left you. You both still bear his gift.”

  Looks of confusion passed between them.

  “Place your hands on the table,” she said quietly.

  Slowly, they lifted their hands onto the conference table and Cara spotted their rings. How had it not registered that they wore the same silver ring? She’d known Kai for almos
t ten years, and he never took his off.

  She blinked. How had she missed such an obvious connection?

  Her eyes were suddenly drawn to Michael who swayed, grabbing the table’s edge to steady him. His shift in energy tripped her internal alarms. All color drained from his face, leaving it the color of rice paper—a sharp contrast with his near-black hair. His high cheekbones jutted out from his face, casting a dark shadow. Without warning, he jumped up and out of his chair, sending it crashing to the floor.

  “No, no, no!” he shouted, shaking his head. “It can’t be true,” he mumbled, his eyes wild and unfocused.

  What the hell? Panic shot through Cara, and she bolted from her chair followed by Simon. “Michael, what’s the matter?”

  Ignoring her, he ran for the door, shoving chairs roughly out of his path.

  Simon strode after him.

  Brett sat wide-eyed at the table, staring after Michael, while Kai sat lost in his own thoughts, barely noticing Michael’s loud departure.

  “Stop! Let him go,” said Constantina. Simon froze in mid-stride inside the door.

  Cara’s head whipped back to Constantina. “Why? What’s going on? Why did Michael freak out like that?”

  A wan smile touched Constantina’s lips. “Because inside Michael’s pocket is a ring that looks exactly like Kai and Brett’s.” She took a pause and a deep breath before continuing. “Cara, Michael’s father was the Wanderer. He’s his youngest son…the fourth child.”

  Chapter 68

  CARA

  PRESSING HER EYES SHUT, Cara absorbed the full force of the news. Holy Mother in Heaven. No wonder he freaked out. “We can’t just let him go like that,” she said softly.

  “But we must. There’s a journey Michael needs to make before he can move on… before we can move on. He must face his past in order for all of us to have a future.”

  “Past? What past?”

  “Everyone has a past, Cara. It’s a question of whether or not it holds you hostage. I’m afraid this is a necessary step for him to take as he becomes the Center Stone of another Trinity,” Constantina looked deep into Cara’s eyes. “There’s only one person who can heal him… if she accepts her Calling.”

  Like tumblers inside a lock clicking into place, everything suddenly made sense. The smell of cinnamon, the shame, dark secrets that leave a stain on the soul—it all crystalized in Cara’s mind. Michael wasn’t the only one of her friends who had dark secrets.

  There was only one other person Cara knew who held anything close to that buried deep in her past.

  Sienna.

  “There’s one more thing that you all must understand.” All eyes shifted to Constantina.

  “Knowing that Michael Swift Sr. was the Wanderer in this life, isn’t nearly as important as knowing who he is in Heaven. As I mentioned, a dear friend granted me a favor to descend in an unawakened state for one lifetime in an effort to repair a misstep he, myself, and one other made long ago.”

  Cara sifted through Constantina’s words. Unawakened. That meant while Michael’s father was alive he wouldn’t have had any more knowledge of his prior existence than someone like her.

  “Who was he, Mother?” Simon asked, tension riding over his shoulders.

  “So much lies within a name, Chamuel. I wish you hadn’t abandoned yours.” She smiled serenely. “The Wanderer is the warrior who vanquished the Fallen during the Great War in Heaven…”

  Cara’s jaw dropped open as she recalled one of her first lessons in the meeting room above the Library with Constantina as they stared up at the ceiling murals.

  “See the other prominent angel in the painting to the right?”

  “Yup,” Cara said as she looked at the very beautiful, yet fierce-looking angel wielding a sword of brilliant light.

  “That is the Archangel Michael who led the angelic army as they waged war and defeated Lucifer and his minions. In the end, Lucifer and his followers fell from the grace of God and were literally stripped of their wings and cast out of Heaven down to Earth… where they still reside.”

  “The Wanderer was the Archangel Michael.…” Cara gasped. She couldn’t decide which piece of news to react to first: Michael and Kai being the Wanderer’s Children, or the Archangel Michael descending into human form to become their father.

  “Are you kidding me?” Brett’s voice held an edge of sarcasm as he gave Cara an incredulous look. “My father was an Archangel?”

  Kai sat silently, lost in thought.

  “Not just any Archangel, but one who is special among men and angels alike,” Constantina said. “It’s not uncommon for an Archangel to take human form to change the tide of human events.”

  “Wait a second, what misstep?” Cara asked.

  Before Constantina could answer, Kai interrupted. “Who killed him?” His voice a mere croak as he spoke for the first time since Constantina had announced he was the Wanderer’s firstborn son. “Who killed our father?”

  Constantina sat up straighter in her chair. “He wasn’t murdered, dear ones. He was released per the covenant he signed before he descended.”

  A covenant he probably never remembered signing, Cara thought. “Released how?” she asked slowly with a sense of dread.

  “He ascended, leaving his physical body behind.”

  “Just like that, he dropped dead?” Brett said from across the table, frowning.

  “In a manner of speaking, yes. In another, no. He had to be awakened in order to be released.”

  “Why didn’t he just live out his life like everyone else?” Kai asked quietly. “Why leave?”

  “He was needed elsewhere. Make no mistake. He’ll be fighting with us. Just not here on Earth.”

  The coil of dread tightened in Cara’s stomach. “Who released him?”

  “The only one who could… Jonas.”

  Chapter 69

  MICHAEL

  France. Angelorum Sanctuary. Thursday, May 30, 12:25 AM GMT +1

  MICHAEL RAN TOWARD THE EXIT of the medical center. His hand slammed down on the release bar with enough force to send a painful shockwave past his elbow. Nearly losing his balance, he stumbled into the underground city street.

  He sucked in heaving breaths of air until his lungs burned, needing to escape. Rage and panic mixed in a volatile cocktail, propelling him forward. He ran along the cobblestone pathways past elaborate buildings and cathedrals underneath the stone sky, not caring that he looked like a man possessed. He didn’t care about anything. His world had collapsed. Everything he believed, and believed in, had been ripped away. His father, a man he’d worshipped, had betrayed him.

  His control crumbled and his mental shields came crashing down. Cara’s voice blazed through—“Why did Michael freak out like that?”—competing with the group of inductees he ran by on the street. Their thoughts assaulted him in a deluge.

  “Why is he running?” wondered a passerby. “Oh my! He’s going to run someone over at that pace,” thought another. Voices layered one on top of another in a rapid buzzing mosaic.

  He clasped his hands to his ears trying to push them away and ran faster.

  Michael barreled into his room. Clothes flew in an airborne stream. Toiletries, cologne, shoes, everything he had. Stuffed and shoved haphazardly into his suitcase. Holding the top down with all his strength, he zipped it.

  Claustrophobia engulfed him, stealing the air from the room.

  Need to sleep. Need to forget.

  He cursed and reopened the suitcase, removing the bottle of pills he kept in his toiletry bag. They’d been in there since his father’s funeral. He took them to sleep that first month. His usual dose was half a pill. He dry-swallowed three.

  He zipped his suitcase back up and arranged for transportation, wanting to put as much distance between him and those who had stolen his father. As fate would have it, the next plane was leaving shortly.

  Fifteen minutes later, Michael reclined in his seat on the Angelorum jet, feeling numb. The sedatives hit him ha
rd, sweeping him into a deep sleep and straight back to the day his life changed when he was eight years old. The one day he wished he could forget forever.

  Chicago. September 1996

  Michael’s finger depressed the door bell, the sound echoing down the vast hallway inside. He shifted nervously on the porch and glanced back across the street at his house a few doors down. A small gust of wind carried the first few leaves of the season onto the porch. Michael pulled his windbreaker tighter around his thin shoulders while he waited.

  Why did Chicago start to get windy before the summer ended?

  He’d been absorbed in a Sponge Bob marathon on Nickelodeon when his mom had tapped him on the shoulder. “Sweetie, Dr. Farris just called. Roger wanted to know if you were available for a play date. He has a new video game.”

  Only two more days of summer vacation were left before third grade started. Spending time with Roger, the shy kid with the aura of a wounded animal, didn’t really appeal to him. Roger was going into fifth grade this year. He was older than Michael by over a year but somehow seemed younger. They’d been playmates when Michael was much younger, when Roger’s parents were still married. They’d separated last year, so Roger only stayed at the large house down the road part-time. That was about the time Michael stopped hanging out with him. Roger didn’t seem to like himself much. He thought about himself as damaged goods. Michael knew it was wrong to poke around in other people thoughts, but sometimes his curiosity got the best of him. The one thing he’d learned was that people could be mean. They might not say mean things, but they’d think them.

  He scrunched his face with a look of distaste, and slid his body down the leather sofa with his legs hanging off. “Do I have to?”

  “Michael, you’ve been watching television since lunch. Just go for a few hours and come back in time for dinner at six o’clock.”

  Michael made a sour face and pushed himself off the sofa. “Uhh…”