Angel Realms

by Malynn, Vivienne

  His instructions are not explicit. Perhaps he is flustered or does not know exactly what must be done. Not saying a word, I walk instinctively to the circle where I stood in the dream.

  “Kneel,” he commands, pointing the revolver directly at me.

  I can hear a whine of concern from Justine. “Stop pointing that gun at her,” she exclaims.

  “Shut up,” he yells and presses the gun into my shoulder, forcing me to my knees.

  “I know what you want me to do,” I say. “And I won’t do it.”

  This angers him. “You will do it. I’m not afraid to use this.” He waves the gun in the air, but his hand is shaking so much that it is apparent that there is some apprehension in using the gun. It seems unnatural for him to be holding it.

  “If you kill me, you won’t get what you want either,” I say.

  He looks around the chamber as if processing the logic of my statement. He glances at Hammond who stands cautiously silent, then looks at Justine. “I won’t kill you,” he says. “That won’t work. But I won’t hesitate to kill them if you don’t give me what I want.” He points the gun at Justine and Liv, but there is a hesitation there.

  A feeling of distress penetrates my gut, but is quickly squelched in a hope when I look into the face of the pastor. I have seen the face of men capable of killing. I saw it in the face of my foster sister’s father. That cold calculated disregard for life, as if the rest of humanity were nothing more than lifeless machines that could be cast aside and broken for their own amusement. The pastor had no such expression, instead, there was pain. He was not that type of person, confused maybe, but not a killer.

  Hammond must sense the same thing; he steps forward between the pastor and the others. “Clemont, old friend, you and I both know that you don’t have it in you to take a life.” He reaches out his hand as he gestures for the gun.

  Clemont stares at him, uncertain. “I have to do this,” he says. “I have to make things right. For her. For all those that have been wronged by man. By us.”

  Looking over at Liv holding tight to Justine, I realize the pastor is talking of his daughter. Somehow, this whole endeavor is clear. He wants justice for his daughter. He is angry at the world for taking from him someone who was so dear. He probably even hates himself—blames himself for her death. I know why he hesitated, why he feels pain, because I too have felt that pain and anger.

  “I know you feel pain,” I say. “You blame yourself for your daughter’s death. You feel like you should have protected her somehow. But you couldn’t and the world took her from you. I lost someone like that, someone I loved dearly and I hated the world. But mostly I hated myself for not protecting her.”

  The pastor turns to me. There is anguish in what he says. “She was so innocent. Why do we always hurt the innocent ones? I would have died for her.”

  “I would have too,” I say. “But life had a different plan.”

  “It’s not fair,” he says. “That’s why we must do this. We must make it fair—for them.” He glances at Liv.

  “You’re right. Life isn’t fair. But this isn’t the way. This isn’t what she would want.”

  He silently stares at me. I’m not sure if my words are getting through. But then… “Who was this loved one who died?” he asks.

  “It was a young girl,” I say. “I was a foster child in her home. Her father liked to drink and take it out on us. Sometimes he got too much enjoyment from it. I knew it was only a matter of time before he killed one of us. I tried to tell someone, but they didn’t believe me. So the next time he came after us, I got a butcher knife and stabbed him.” The memory is bitter and I choke a little on the words. “I didn’t kill him. I should have for her sake. But I couldn’t.” I stop to wipe the tears from my eyes. The pastor stares on intently. “After that they took me out of the home. A few months later I heard that she was dead. His drunken rage finally went too far.”

  “I’m so sorry,” the pastor says.

  “The funny thing, even after all he did to her. She still ran to his side and cried for him when he was lying on the floor bleeding.” My chin quivers as a tear traces its outline. “Why? Why did she love him?” The anger returns as I think of her draped over the man who would eventually be the cause of her death. “I can’t understand it. I never could. He is the one who hurt her. He is the one that should have died. I could have saved her, if I could just do what needed to be done. But I couldn’t. No matter how bad he was. I just couldn’t take his life.”

  “Of course not,” the pastor says, the revolver now lying loosely at his side. He places a hand on my head in a caressing motion. “It’s not in you.”

  “It’s not in you either,” says Hammond, making another reaching motion for the gun. This time Pastor Clemont concedes, handing the gun over. Hammond takes the gun from him and a weight is lifted from everyone. He opens the chamber to see if it is loaded. “I knew you didn’t have it in you,” he says as he smacks the chamber back into place. “But I, on the other hand, have no reservations about taking a life.” He raises the revolver, points it at the pastor and fires.

  Chapter 18

  The shot is deafening, echoing throughout the chamber, piercing my ears. The pastor immediately is thrown back onto the cold stone, his body limp and lifeless. Everyone is in shock. I can’t understand what is happening. “Why?” I say in objection. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because he was weak,” Hammond says, “Just like Barnaby before him. I had to take care of that problem, too.” He looks at me, discerning my confusion. He tisks, as if astonished by my ignorance. “Did you really think it a coincidence that I brought you to this town? That I spent all those years keeping you out of trouble?”

  “I thought you cared about me,” I say, the pain of betrayal in my voice. “I trusted you.”

  “Cared about you?” His tone is mocking. “You were just another brat, easily manipulated. But people like you always are. You push away the ones who truly love you because you’re afraid, and embrace those that hurt you because it’s safe.” Although I want to believe that what he says is a lie, his words strike a dark truth that stabs deep into my heart. He glares at me as if to discern my expression. “Does the truth hurt? Is it hard to realize just how pathetic you are?”

  I do not answer.

  “Your mother was easily manipulated as well. I was the one who convinced her to give you up. It was easier that way. For me, at least.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask angrily.

  “I was once your mother’s handler,” he replies, pacing past me. “I watched over her, waiting for the time that I could use her for my purposes. But she began asking too many questions, so I convinced her that the danger of having you near her was too great. I posed as a social worker and we put you in the foster system on the understanding that I would look over you. She trusted me too, right up to the day that I killed her. Made it look like a drug overdose to avoid any further questions. After that, I continued to bide my time until this day when Sorath could be summoned.”

  I jump forward toward him. “I’ll kill you,” I say.

  Swinging the gun down, he strikes me against the cheek, sending me back to the ground, dazed. He then walks casually over to the others. Taking Liv by the hair, Hammond rips her away. Justine protests, but he points the gun at her as if daring her to do something. He then looks at me and I see in his face what I feared—the cold look of death.

  As he presses the gun to Liv’s temple, I know it is not a bluff. He will kill and feel nothing of it. He already has. “I’m betting you chose to take Liv with you in your escape because she reminded you of that little girl so many years ago,” he says. His words are heartless and cruel. “How would you feel losing her all over again, when it is entirely in your power to save her?”

  Seeing him hurt her angers me, but there is nothing I can do. Suddenly, I remember the feeling I had those many years ago when I saw my foster sister being beaten. The same feeling I harbored w
hen I learned she was dead and that he had killed her. Despite the fact he went to prison, it was not enough for the pain he caused. He deserved more, an endless torment. He deserved hell. “Leave her alone,” I say through gritted teeth. All love is extinguished from my heart replaced only with anger. “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you. I swear I will.”

  “That’s more like it,” Hammond says. “If you would have had more of that attitude on the night you stabbed the old man, maybe you could have followed through with it and saved her. But you were weak weren’t you. That angel will tell you that it’s not your fault she’s dead, but that’s a lie. It was your fault. You had the power of salvation and you refused it. For what? You’re conscience. There’s no place for conscience in this world. Just cold, calculated—perfect justice. What the world needs is more of those that can deliver it, and that is what I will give them.”

  “Is that what you want—justice?” I ask. Every syllable of my words infused with bitterness. It’s everything I can do not to leap at him because doing so might hurt Liv.

  “I make no pretenses of what I want,” Hammond says smugly. “I want vengeance. Vengeance on the whole heavenly host.”

  “But why?”

  “Let’s just say we have history together. A long history.” Taking Liv by the hair, he throws her to the hard floor. She slowly rises up but he kicks her back down as he walks around, always keeping the gun trained on her. He glances up at the red moon hanging above us. “Rare occurrence, eclipses like these, four red moons in a year. They call it a tetrad. I’ve waited a long time for this moment.”

  The mention of a tetrad awakens awareness in me. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “The relevance is in the prophecies,” he replies. His walk is more casual now. It seems he is confident in his control of the situation. “There were prophecies given at the dawn of creation that an event would occur and would raise the very foundations of heaven. A star would fall from the heavens and its name would be wormwood.”

  “You’re talking about Bible prophecies,” I say. My statement is more defiant then inquiring.

  “Bible. Qur’an. Torah. You people think that you have all there is. That you are the only ones with the word of God. Well, there is so much more that you have no idea about. Prophecies that existed before your kind wormed their way across the planet. Prophecies at the very dawn of angels.” He squats down next to me, moving the end of the gun along my neck. “You see, we were here long before you. We were God’s original chosen.”

  “You’re an angel?”

  “Was,” Hammond says, abruptly. “I was an angel. I saw the beginning of man. I was there when Adam was cast down to the mortal realm. I knew him before he was even a man.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Before God formed Adam’s flesh and gave him the breath of life,” Hammond says, “he was one of the clay men.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say.

  “The clay men were the first generation of creation to roam the earth, but they were flawed. It was felt that they could pose a threat to heaven. They were to be wiped from the Earth, or so the council of angels decreed. One angel was called to do the work of clearing the Earth for the renewal, but that angel dissented. His name was Sorath. He decided to give the clay men purpose. They became his legions, and through them he gave birth to a new generation of creation—the demons. All of them worshipped Sorath and together built a new heavenly realm.”

  “So if this Sorath character was so great, why haven’t I heard of him?”

  “He was defeated.”

  “By the angels.”

  “By Adam and the betrayal of a particular angel. One clay man stood against the rest for the honor of God his creator. An act for which he was blessed to join the heavenly host in an Eden of his own in the fourth realm of heaven. He was even granted a companion. Still, it was not enough for him and—well—you know the rest of the story.”

  Hammond stands and stares up at the sky. “As for Sorath, he was imprisoned in a comet and sent to circle the universe and all of God’s creations. An attempt to humble him perhaps. The generations of demons were scattered on the Earth and the clay men became but shadows. However, some were allowed to maintain their clay form in exchange for protecting this very temple.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “This temple was built on the location where it was prophesied that Sorath would be recalled to do his original work—to clear the face of the Earth in anticipation of the renewal. Of course, I have other plans for him.”

  “I still don’t understand,” I say.

  This angers Hammond. He stoops down and drills the barrel of the revolver into my neck. Though I am terrified, my anger refuses to let it show. “Don’t be coy with me. You know exactly what I mean. I was there when the charge was given to Eve. After the incident with Sorath, they had a change of heart. They still saw mortals as a threat, but seeing the valor Adam showed, felt it would be best to give the charge of calling forth the renewal to man. A righteous man or better yet, a righteous woman. One who had witnessed the evils of the world firsthand and could be a greater judge in determining its outcome. And so I went to Eve and spoke the words to her that would bring about the renewal. She was given the charge that if man’s evils were such that they threatened heaven, she and her seed would have the power to stop them. A self-destruct so to speak.”

  “Why would I help you, if you are just going to destroy us?”

  “I’m not going to destroy you or any of man,” he says. “I don’t blame your kind for anything. You’re like animals. You know not what you do. No. I reserve my vengeance for the angels that imprisoned me here with the rats. With the help of Sorath, I will unite the scattered legions and take my revenge on heaven. If anything, we will be rescuing you from the meddling of the angels. We all know how they like to poke their nose in your business.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “As an act of good faith, we will destroy the clay men and free your friends in the church. I’ll even start with Justine.” Waving the gun at Justine, he gestures her to leave. “Go on. You’re free to go roam the Earth as you like.”

  “What about Liv?” I demand.

  “I’m feeling generous not stupid.”

  “I’m not stupid either.”

  “Then I guess we are at an impasse,” Hammond says. He shrugs his shoulders seemingly apathetic to the outcome. “However, the difference between your situation and mine is that unlike you, I have the ability to extend mercy…and take it away.” Raising the gun, he points it at Justine and cocks the hammer.

  Just before he has time to pull the trigger, I yell out, “Okay. I’ll do whatever you want, but I don’t know the words.”

  “Of course you do,” Hammond says. “All the daughters of Eve do. They just need the right motivation.” Hammond walks over to Liv still lying face down on the floor. He bends over and places the gun to her head. “I think I know just the motivation you need.”

  “If you hurt her…”

  “Tut—tut.” He grins. “Watch your temper. I might lose my patience and do something…” He pauses a moment running his hand over her hair. “I might do something…regrettable.”

  I breathe out my contempt but keep my mouth shut for Liv’s sake. “Let’s just get it over with.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Hammond says, leaping to his feet. He crosses the room and extends a hand to me. I take it and he helps me to my feet. “Oh, and if you think you will be rescued at the last possible minute by your boyfriend, don’t bother. He doesn’t know where you are. Remember, you pushed him away the way you push everyone away.”