by S. B. Niccum
“…And said that you would never be the kind of parent who would let her child be raised in foster care?” Dorian clarifies.
“But I didn’t know that she was dead.”
“It still hurt her,” Celeste says.
I’m dumbfounded. To think that all this time I was keeping my mother from progressing because of my lack of forgiveness. “But once I found out what happened, I didn’t blame her.”
“No, in your mind perhaps you didn’t, but your heart never quite opened up to her. You never really called to her, nor put yourself in her shoes, nor wondered what she must have suffered,” Dorian says sagely. And he’s right. I never really did wonder about her feelings…until now that she told me. And to be perfectly honest, I always did feel a bit resentful over the fact that it was Celeste who I always heard—never her. It never occurred to me that she had to make an impossible choice—like I had to. Is Alex blaming me now in the same way? He saw me watching him, he saw me turn away from him and leave him there stranded. Every time I dredge up this memory, that last look in his eyes flashes in my mind, twisting knots somewhere in my middle. Apparently you don’t need a body to feel this, or maybe it’s a memory of the awful feeling, but whatever it is, it’s real, and I feel sick to my stomach.
Irene is still wrapped in this fiery blanket and looks more and more beautiful and pure as the flames melt away any darkness that she might have had. When she’s done, the flames ascend and leave her shining, but with her own inner light.
She looks at me and smiles radiantly. In her eyes, I see the depths of her soul. She rushes to my side and embraces me, and through the embrace, she conveys all her feelings and thoughts to me. Her unspoken words come complete with their exact feelings and meanings attached. I understand her perfectly. I now comprehend what she has endured, what she has suffered, and the joy and hope she now feels. I see her past, her memories of taking care of me as a child, her feelings as she died, her anguish over my predicament, the many times she sneaked out of her angelic post to check on me while I was growing up at Charlotte’s.
Reading—that’s her favorite pastime! We have that in common; Les Miserables is her favorite book. I get to know her through this Link of sorts. I see her falling in love with my dad. I see what she saw in him, and it makes me love him too! I see his love for me through her eyes, and I understand why he kept silent all those years while in prison. I see his strength, his determination, and his easy smile. I see him pleading with John to look after me. I feel full. Full to the brim with their love for me, and now, I can’t help but love them back!
She lets go of me and I know her. “Mom,” I whisper hoarsely, “I’m—I’m—I love you. I’m sorry for—”
“Don’t be,” she beams, “we will be a family yet. I know that now. Time…there’s no such thing as time anymore. We have the eternities to make up for lost time on Earth.” She grabs my hands, brings them up to her lips, and kisses them. “I know now how to find your father, I know what to do! I will get him back for us and we’ll be the family we have always wanted to be!”
I shake my head, “It’s too hard. You won’t find him. Those bubbles…there’s no end to them! You’ll get lost like I did. The only reason why I saw him was because Agatha has some sort of agreement that allows her to pass through them. She has also roamed enough to know her way around that inferno.”
My mom shakes her head. “I see the way now! I feel him, I see him!” Her eyes focus on some distant point, she looks as if she is having a vision of sorts. When she snaps out of it, she looks back at me with earnestness. “You have to Open, Tessie. That’s the only way you’ll find Alex,” her eyes are filled with pity. “You’re the only one who can do it. Anyone who loves him can find him, but I’m afraid that you’re uniquely qualified to get him to leave, since much of the reason why he’s stuck there is because of you.”
I nod numbly. “I know that.”
“Te quiero mi amor, but I have to go.” She places one hand tenderly on my cheek and this brings back a memory from my childhood. I’ve heard those words from her lips before…many, many times before. I recall them at her touch; even though I don’t physically feel it—I do feel the spark of the memories flickering around the edges of my conscious mind—and they come forward now.
“Go Mom, go find him.”
She smiles. This is the first time I’ve called her Mom. She kisses my forehead and takes off flying like a shooting star. I feel a tinge of jealousy as I watch her go. I want to feel that confident about heading back in there. But the mere thought of reliving those nightmarish situations hold me back. I feel guilty and cowardly, but how can I let Alex stay in there while I’m out here—free?
“You could do as your mother suggested,” Dorian suggests.
“Where do I even start?”
Dorian points to the huge, gleaming, white building behind me, and out of habit, I take in a big breath.
The mansion assigned for spiritual progression is vast. Architecturally, it’s Greek, like the Parthenon, but bigger, at least ten times bigger. It has two rows of columns, one set in the outer part of an outdoor corridor and an inner set, framing the indoor structure. This pattern repeats five times over, as there are five stories to this mansion. Each level is identical to the first. There are two massive double doors that are open on the first level, freely inviting anyone who wishes to come in.
When I pass through the front doors I take an involuntary deep breath. Dorian shows me where the High Council meets, and I look at the spot with a little trepidation. But I take another deep breath and face the music. Well…there’s technically no music at all, just a huge courtroom that is very intimidating, full of men dressed in white togas like judges in a courtroom. They are the High Council, and they hold my fate in their hands. They hear me out, ask some questions, nod sagely, murmur amongst themselves, and seem to come to some sort of agreement. While they deliberate I can’t help wondering how it is that I’m here in the first place. Me? I’ve never been in trouble before. Not in school, not with my foster parents, not with the law while still alive—never! Now I’m before a Heavenly Council that holds the fate of my eternal soul in their hands.
They all stop their hushed murmurs and face me. One of them, the one who sits in the center of the bar, stands up. “Agatha did put you in a tough situation, one that you would have never been in, had you followed the light to begin with.”
“I understand,” I say meekly, feeling their eyes on me. All twelve of them are scrutinizing me, judging me. Thankfully, I feel no antagonism coming from them. On the contrary, they emanate a feeling of impartiality and if anything, pity, and a true desire to help me out, and that puts me somewhat at ease.
I don’t say anything else so they begin another round of deliberation, this time through a mute telepathic link. After a great deal of what looks to be a mental back and forth, they all finally start nodding in obvious agreement.
“We are pleased that you have expressed a desire to confess and make amends. This you will do: You will be assigned a Spirit Guide, a special Spirit Guide. Him, you will listen to and obey. Him, you will comply with and never leave his side until he deems you ready. Understood?” one of the High Councilors says solemnly. I nod and look to Dorian, with a smile.
“Not him,” the High Councilor who was the spokesperson says solemnly.
“Not him? Then who?”
“Me.” What looks to be a huge winged statue adorning the wall, emerges from its stillness and moves forward, startling me in the process.
I look in all directions to see if any more of the statues that adorn this room are going to come to life as well. These creatures, that look as solid and immovable as stone, are in fact, not stone at all, but rather shallowly breathing beings that have been here all along—standing perfectly still—like Sentinels. This unnerves me, and I shift uncomfortably in my spot, feeling exposed and a bit deceived.
The reanimated statue is completely white and somewhat shimmery, just like marble.
He’s dressed like a Native American Indian, with lace-up moccasins and a white fur loincloth. He’s bare chested, with straight, long, white hair, and is at least twelve feet tall. Instead of arrows, he has a sheath strapped across his chest, with the hilt of a sword sticking out from behind his back, conveniently placed between his colossal, snowy, white wings, that reach all the way to the ground.
“You sure know how to blend in,” I say as I look around me, trying to hide my nervousness. None of the other creatures that line the walls move or even acknowledge my comment, but the one that stepped forward, tries to hide a smirk. He’s enjoying this—immensely. I’m willing to bet that seeing the reaction of humans as they step forward gives them a kick every time.
As I look at him, a sudden feeling of familiarity sweeps over me, and for a second I’m sure that I know him. Maybe it’s the fact that I have seen this type of creature before. I saw several of them, in fact, protecting Dorian while Agatha was trying to torture us. For some reason though, I wasn’t as shocked to see them then as I am now. Perhaps back then I thought they were a figment of my imagination. Maybe at that time, I needed them to be larger than life in order to protect Dorian. Or maybe I was already so freaked out that nothing could have stunned me that night.
“Drymus has been assigned as your Spirit Guide. He is particularly well suited for the job. You must abide by his rules from now on. You must not leave his side. When he deems you ready, you will report back to us. Are you willing to comply?” The speaker for the High Councilors asks.
I turn and look at Drymus. He folds his arms across his chest, puffing it out in the process, intimating that I’m in for a singular experience in his expert, massive hands. The words “cruel and unusual punishment” cross my mind, and these last thoughts seem to escape my mind and reach his, making him bite his lower lip in an attempt at stifling a self-satisfied smile.
“Y—yes,” I stammer, and the High Councilor taps the mallet once, making my sentence sound dismal and final.
We leave the High Council room, followed by an eerily mute Drymus, who reminds me of a devoted executioner looking forward to his task.
“So…I guess this is good-bye for now,” Celeste says, eyeing the creature with apprehension.
“I guess,” I respond hollowly.
“Don’t worry, Tess. Drymus will take good care of you, won’t you Dry?” Luz flutters to his side and wraps her arms affectionately around the creature’s neck. He smiles with half his face and winks at her, while she plants a kiss on his cheek. With the other half of his face he’s still eyeing me, like he’s afraid to let me out of his sight. “Drymus and I got to work together on a mission sometime back. He’ll be great!” Luz flitters back down to Dorian’s side and snuggles next to him.
“She’s right Tess, you have nothing to worry about. Really!” Dorian pats me on the back. “I’ve seen it. Trust me. He will help you.” He looks intently into my eyes and in them I see the certainty of his words in his eyes. It reminded me of when in life, he would hand me one of his finished drawings; he had that same certainty, and that same surety then. It was his way of saying, “trust me”.
“We’ll see you soon, okay?” Dorian starts to leave, then turns back. “And I’m really proud of you for going before the High Council and all. It can be a daunting experience, but you’ll see…it’s better this way, face the issues head on and deal with them quickly.” He winks at me, nods to Drymus, then flies off with Luz and Celeste.
Drymus and I are left standing here in the middle of this imposing white mansion, where the walls can literally see and hear. We are both completely speechless for a while, and he’s so good at standing still that if I didn’t know better I would think he turned back into a statue.
“Well then,” he starts conversationally after a long uncomfortable moment passes. “Let’s begin by making something very clear. I am NOT a creature, as your mind has been surmising. I am a Cherub.”
“O—kay.”
“Oh, give her a break, will you? You’re not supposed to torment her.” From an opening at the very top of the building, a blazing fire comes straight down on us. I shield my eyes with my arm and try to protect myself from the oncoming flames that are about to land right on top of me.
“Do you know what she’s done? After all you’ve taught her! Aren’t you the least bit upset?” Drymus speaks to the fireball as if it were an old friend. But the moment that the fire touches down on the ground, the flames extinguish, and a golden humanoid form appears. She looks like freshly polished gold, and is slightly smaller than the Cherub by a few inches. From the waist up, she looks human, with long golden dreadlocks and slightly feline features. From the waist down, she’s a lioness—complete with furry hind legs and a long tufty tail. Her chest is covered by a golden fur halter-top, and she too has wings, but they are leathery like a bat’s. She’s so mesmerizing that my jaw drops, and I stare shamelessly at her.
“I’ve seen you before too,” I finally manage to say, spellbound by her appearance.
“Yes, you have,” she asserts, turning her attention back to me. “Many times before, actually.” This last comment holds a little bit of bite in it. “I’m Dayspring. I gave you the tools to accomplish your life’s mission. I also trained you before mortality.”
I nod numbly. I remember bits and pieces of what she’s talking about. I remember passing out and having a dream. I remember seeing her in that dream and then she gave me…fire!”
She chuckles. “Boy, you sure are a mess, aren’t you Tess? Don’t worry, Drymus here will straighten you out in no time. But first, the wedding!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Drymus protests.
“Not at all,” the lioness affirms boldly.
“She has to start right away, I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but she—”
“I am well aware of what she’s done,” she barks back, and I’m not too sure, but I think she growls a little too. “And we know, all too well, what it’s like to do stupid things, don’t we Drymus!” She enunciates his name slowly and with an edge of warning in her voice.
Something in her growl or her voice sobers him right away and he stops protesting. Right then, another Cherub lands right next to Drymus and pats him chummily on the back.
“Hey,” they both in turn say in greeting.
“Is she ready?” the newcomer says casually. “We’ve got to get this show on the road, as you humans say,” he directs this last comment to me, with a pleasant smile.
“Kerubiel, she doesn’t know what’s going on yet. She doesn’t remember,” the golden creature says.
“Well, remind her, come on!” Kerubiel says impatiently.
The golden lioness turns to me and with a smile she purrs, “Tess, you made me a promise before you were born.”
“I did?” I say incredulously.
“Yes, you did.” She comes close to me and extends one hand. “May I?” she asks as the palm of her hand reaches for my cheek. I nod and she places her hand on the side of my face. The moment that her hand makes contact with my essence, a flurry of memories flash forward to my conscious mind.
I see a great white span of snowy terrain. I’m standing up above, and looking down on some movement of sorts…a game, a fight. A smile crosses my face when I realize it’s a snowball fight! Next to me sits Dayspring, the golden lioness. I know her well, we are friends. She looks sad. Her vision is drawn to one person below—Kerubiel. He senses her and turns to look up at her, he loves her! He has always loved her, ever since they were mortals thousands of year’s prior.
Another image flashes in my head: I’m now surrounded by spirits. Dayspring is right in front of me; she looks annoyed, but happy. “I wanted you to be my Issa’ahot at my wedding,” she informs me.
“What’s an Issa’ahot?”
“Well, our wedding will be a mix between the two worlds—so you’ll have to help me find a dress, then walk in front of me at the wedding ceremony while throwing white feathers into the air—s
o that I will be thoroughly covered in them before I get to the altar—there are more duties too, but I’ll tell you about it later.”
“That’s beautiful, Dayspring, I would love to do it! But…” I look thoughtful for a moment, then crestfallen.
“Don’t worry about it, Tess, I wasn’t planning on getting married so soon. I mean, I want to....” She smiles at Kerubiel.“But we have waited this long…and I want to have a big wedding. We want all our loved ones to be there, and it will take a while to get them used to the idea of us being together. Besides, your life won’t take that long—I’ll wait until you die. It might even take us longer than that!” she says brightly.
“But, I won’t remember you.”
“Bah!” she dismisses my comment with a wave of her hand. “We’ll be friends again, this won’t get between us.” She points to a massive wall of white…the Veil that separated my pre-mortal existence from my mortal life.
“I’ll bring you up to speed after you die,” she assures me, then the memory ends and I find myself looking back at the same face, bearing that same smile. “This is me bringing you up to speed.”
“Oh,” I feel a bit disoriented, like after watching a fast-paced 3D movie. The interesting thing is that it’s all in my head. Physically I feel nothing, but the memory of feeling dizzy makes me wobble a bit. “I see,” I look from one expectant face to another, and I muster a smile. “I would love to be your—your…Issa’ahot then. Nothing will make me happier!” I say with breathless enthusiasm.
Dayspring purses up her lips, unconvinced. “Well, it’s the best I can hope for, given the circumstances.”
She turns to Kerubiel and pushes him back. “You!” she orders, “make sure your Cherubs sound the trumpets.” Her face softens, and a beaming smile crosses her face. “We’re finally getting married!”
The moment that Dayspring unfurls her leathery bat wings and places me on her back, I know I’m in for the ride of my life—or afterlife in this case. Soon I find myself being whisked away from my spirit realm and into outer space.