Stricken, she threw the frame on to the bed. Mark, who had picked up yet another box, saw the frame bounce against the cushion while Tara faced the wall, motionless. Intrigued, he put the box down and approached her. When he saw the picture of Emma and Julie smiling together, he understood. He had been there too. They had all been there. Every time any one of them had had their Revelation, in this life and in their past lives, they had all experienced the same thing.
In a burst of compassion, he who spoke so little, put his large hand on her shoulder and said in a deep voice:
“These people really are important Tara. You’re happy with them. If they hadn't brought you happiness in this life, no one else would have... They’re unique, and every moment you share with them is genuine and legitimate.”
“I don't remember any of my mothers,” Tara replied, condemning herself. “Did I ever have children?” she continued, looking at the photo of Julie. “I don't even remember. What kind of horrible mother could I have been… forgetting my own children?”
“You have nothing to blame yourself for. It was decided that things would be this way. You’re not responsible for it...”
Tara sighed. She could never bring herself to stop loving her parents or her little sister, much less her niece Julie. She would do everything in her power to make them happy in this life: bringing them happiness here on Earth was the best way to thank them for eternity.
“Knowing all of this, I don’t know how I’ll be able to continue living carefree,” she whispered, staring at the frame.
“You're not here to live carefree,” Mark answered calmly. “You’re here to lead the Fifth Legion.”
He certainly didn’t beat around the bush. With a solemn gesture, he grabbed her by the shoulders to show her it was time to get back to work. Nodding, she tried to concentrate on the move. She placed the frames in a box and retrieved all the other photos that hung on the walls of her apartment. She wouldn't let Diane destroy her life. She wished she had never found out about all this and refused to put her personal life aside. She would never let go of her family and friends. The angels had taken her work and her carefreeness away from her, but they wouldn’t take away her identity. Without realizing it, she sat down on the bed and contemplated the photos she had just taken off the walls.
“Who’s that?” asked Hugo, tearing the photo out of her hands.
“A friend of mine.”
“You're not going to take it with you, are you?” he asked laughing.
Tara felt her blood start to boil, while Mark stopped in his tracks to stare at Hugo with his usual phlegm.
“Why?” she replied defensively. “Have I lost the right to take my photos with me too?”
“Of course not,” Hugo said, carelessly throwing it into a box. “If you want to take memories with you of people you'll never see again, go ahead…”
“What do you mean?” exclaimed Tara as she stood up.
Mark immediately put down the box and stepped in.
“Hugo.”
“What's wrong with him?” Tara exclaimed, pointing at Hugo with her chin. “Why don’t you just take everything I own while you're at it!”
“Tara,” said Mark, turning to her. “Hugo isn’t going about it very well, but what he's trying to say is that these photos will only keep you from moving on.”
“What do you mean by moving on? These people all mean something to me!”
“Tara, you have to accept your mission,” insisted the Viking.
All they wanted was to make her understand the extent of her responsibilities.
Tara turned her head towards the wall, refusing to look at them. She couldn't give up everything. Not like this, not so easily. They had no right to ask her to do that. They were the ones who didn't understand.
“You have to say goodbye to them,” Hugo said softly, after a long silence.
Tara turned towards him abruptly. She could feel that he was sincerely sorry, yet she couldn't help but resent him.
“She'll do it when she's ready,” Mark concluded, as he slowly picked up the box that he had placed on the floor.
Tara continued staring at the wall, refusing to expose her pain. When Hugo disappeared from the room, she went back to work, trembling.
In less than an hour, she had packed everything she would need in order to live at Van der Worthen's for a few weeks. As per Emily’s instructions, she had also sent her letter of resignation to Cesucom. With a heavy heart, she thought back to all the sacrifices she had made to build such a great career for herself.
As for Max, he immediately adopted the missionaries' apartment upon arrival. When Tara put him down in the entrance, he rushed off to explore the rooms, some of which she herself didn’t even know existed. With her arms overflowing, she couldn’t see where she was going as she followed Hugo. When they arrived, she was told that she had inherited a much larger room with a private bathroom. Emily had wanted to make her stay among them as comfortable and peaceful as possible, and she hoped that the proximity would do her good.
This announcement touched her, despite the resentment she felt towards them. She couldn’t help but notice the efforts made by her missionaries to make her feel welcome among them.
Her new room had an unobstructed view of the Parisian rooftops. The window stretched all the way up to the molded ceiling. Her double bed was much more elegant than the previous one. When she entered the room, she was dazzled by the beauty and purity of her surroundings. The room was decorated with a light-colored wooden bedside table, a superb copper bedside lamp and a chandelier in the same style. Light and wispy white curtains hung all the way down to the dark parquet floor. The wardrobe, made of the same wood as the bedside table, was in itself, a carpenter's work of art. Next to it, two mirrored doors hid a built-in dressing room. Tara smiled: a simple closet would indeed not have been enough for her rich wardrobe. Emily had definitely gotten it right! On the dark wood floor lay a soft ivory carpet that matched the cream and chocolate tones of the bedding, and a giant portrait of a doe hung in front of the bed. Tara could feel a powerful positive energy of love and warmth in this space. The room was simply sublime.
Before she even had time to put down her boxes and enjoy her new room, Max rushed to the carpet and began kneading into it with his sharp claws, satisfied with his new toy. As Mark followed her, his hands full, Tara slowly approached the bathroom. When she opened the door, she couldn't help but smile in awe at what laid before her: Emily and her family must be billionaires to own such a splendid apartment in one of the most beautiful districts in Paris. The bathroom was almost as big as the bedroom. The floor was covered in pink and cream-colored marble, while the walls were adorned with a gold and fuchsia mosaic fresco. To her left was a large sunken jacuzzi bathtub, and to her right, a huge Italian-style shower with natural stone tiles to which she felt irresistibly drawn. Facing her was a large sink that sat under a huge mirror. It was the ultimate in luxury. She felt like she was in a fairy tale.
“Do all of you have such beautiful rooms?” she asked, admiring herself in the mirror.
“Mine’s even better,” said Hugo, who had just joined them. “Don't forget, we all got to choose our rooms before you came along.”
For the first time since she had arrived at Van der Worthen's, she felt almost excited. Maybe she could actually start feeling at home here.
As she put away her clothes in her new closet, the lady of the house came to see her:
“May I come in?”
Tara acquiesced. She was almost finished.
“Do you like your new room?”
“Yes, it’s beautiful.”
“I'm glad you're happy with it. It’ll be your home for a little while, just until you’re able to defend yourself. After that, you can decide whether you want to stay or go.”
Tara nodded while putting her Chanel dress on a hanger. She remained focused on organizing her dressing room, though she could sense Emily's warm and gentle eyes on her.
V
an der Worthen hesitated before she spoke:
“How do you feel Tara?”
“Do I have the right to complain?” she said ironically, thinking back to the remarks that had been made about her at dinner the night before.
Emily smiled but avoided the question:
“How was your night with the guards? Are they up to their task?”
“Pff!” Tara puffed, disenchanted. “If they came to torment me and ridicule me, then yes, they’re up to the mission that was assigned to them.”
“The guards are arrogant and condescending. They only respect authority and strength. If they see you as weak, you’ll become their plaything to torture. You'll have to be strong. They weren’t created to be friendly.”
“Great…”
“You need to build your strength Tara. When you're finished unpacking, meet me in the room where you had your Revelation.”
Tara felt her heart leap in her chest. Were they going to kill her again?
Trembling, she nervously finished organizing her things. Once the last photos were in place, she joined Emily in the room where she had been taken when she first stepped foot into the apartment. The room was at the end of the long dark corridor, the second to last door on the right.
Once she arrived, she could hear Emily moving around inside the room. Terrified, she was reluctant to open the door. She held her breath as her pulse beat against her temples. She had already thrown herself into the lion's mouth once when she agreed to follow the woman with the fuchsia umbrella. Would she be putting herself in harm’s way a second time by entering this room on her own free will? She died in this room the first time…
Breathless, she finally lowered the handle and opened the door. The room was as dark as it had been the first time and once again, the candles were all lit up. The sight of it sent a shiver down her spine. When the door was completely open, she noticed that the torture chair had been replaced by a long table that resembled a massage table.
“Lie down,” said Emily calmly.
“What are you going to do to me?” asked Tara in a distrustful tone.
“Just relax. As you can see, there are no chains on this table. We're never going to hurt you again Tara. We're your soldiers. Lie down and I'll help you remember who you once were.”
Tara remained in the doorway, motionless. She was having trouble trusting her.
“Oh, come on,” implored Emily. “I'm going to take you on a journey through your past lives.”
“By stabbing me?”
“By putting my hand on your forehead. That’ll be quite enough. My body is extremely sensitive and an excellent connector. Lie down.”
With a gesture of the hand, she invited Tara to approach the mattress, while she herself sat on a chair next to it. Tara decided to trust her as she slowly walked over to the table. She lay down, holding her breath.
“Close your eyes and relax,” whispered Emily softly. “You're going to enter into an alternative state of consciousness where you’ll become a spectator of your memories. Whatever you see, don't panic: it's Diane's memories that we're going to explore today. They’re hidden away, deep inside of you. We're going to try and bring her back to us.”
Tara nodded and took a deep breath. She did what she could to relax. When she closed her eyes, she felt Emily's warm hand resting on her forehead. In an instant, she lost control of her limbs: totally paralyzed, she felt herself sinking deep under the table, plunging into the darkness, as though she were falling into a bottomless pit. Above her, a dazzling light seemed to be saying goodbye. As she began to panic, she struggled to return to the light.
Only seconds later, she sensed that the speed of her fall was suddenly decreasing, as she looked at her body plummeting into the abyss. Her consciousness seemed to be outside of her body as she hung motionless in the air. She could still see her body descending, seemingly asleep. Strangely enough, it didn’t worry her: on the contrary, she was relieved to no longer be heading towards the darkness. Then, she looked up to the sky and saw a white light. Freed from the constraints of her body, she felt herself rising faster and faster, pulled up by the light. Seconds later, she was completely immersed in a blinding pool of light.
She remained still for several seconds, adjusting to the intensity of the light and to the feeling of vacuity. Other than the light, she felt as though nothing else could touch her. She had never been immersed in such silence before. She felt extremely alone.
Suddenly, an angel arrived out of nowhere and passed her by without noticing her. He had black hair and was almost twice her size. He looked straight ahead, impassive. Behind him, large charcoal black wings descended so low that the feathers touched the ground. They were gigantic. Broad and robust, like their owner. Dressed in a long red toga, tranquility and extraordinary power emanated from his aura.
Intrigued, she decided to follow him. The ground became hard under her feet and the blinding light slowly disappeared, giving way to the glow of candles, placed at the four corners of the dark stone walls. In the middle of a damp room, gathered around a long table, was a group of angels with gigantic wings, observing each other in silence. Some had red wings, others white, others black, but they all wore the same purple toga.
Tara approached the table with caution while trying to remain hidden in the shadows of the room. The angels were gigantic. The one she had followed sat at the head of the table, leading the meeting. He began the discussion:
“Seraphim, thank you for coming on such short notice...”
The other angels nodded in silence. There were about fifteen of them around the table. The angel at the head of the table then turned towards a second angel with light brown hair and blood-red wings. He lowered his gaze.
“Alban, the Eleventh Legion has failed to protect the child. No sooner was he born than he was taken from us. And yet, you knew how important his destiny was... If this mission fails, you, as the seraph in command of the Eleventh Legion, will take full responsibility.”
Alban’s gaze was still lowered. His throat tightened. Everyone around the table remained silent.
“We must find a solution,” continued the leader in a harsh voice. “What did the guards see?” he asked, turning to a black angel at the far right of the table.
This third angel was one of the only ones who had a dreadful demonic look in his eyes. He looked exactly like the two guards who watched over Tara at night. Only this one was even taller and seemed even more evil. He had dark curly hair and a body so thin that he looked like a mummy. His wrinkled, grey-green skin seemed to stretch as he spoke in a sugarcoated voice:
“Two men entered the cottage. They murdered the parents and took the child. My guards tried to follow them, but the demons hid behind a barrier of energy that prevented us from seeing and feeling them.”
“That's impossible!” exclaimed another angel with red wings, who sat to the left of the first angel. “A demon can't hide a human from an angels' vision.”
“I trust in the word of my guards,” said the dark angel, bowing his head in respect.
A deadly silence fell over the assembly. The presiding angel had such a powerful aura that he naturally dominated the other angels. After a few seconds, an angel with white wings spoke. His face was gentler than those of the angels who had spoken before him:
“The demons want to make a deal with us...”
“We all know what happens every time we try to make a deal with evil,” replied yet another angel, who sat to the right of the leader.
Tara gagged. She recognized her immediately. Bright red wings, a milky complexion and long blonde braided hair falling against her chest. They shared the same face and features, but she exceeded her in presence and self-confidence. It was her, Diane, who sat to the right of the Great Seraph Michael, her aura also dominating the group. Tara felt the respect and fear of all the other angels by her side. She herself felt an immense respect for this being who dwelled within her.
“What do you propose?” replied the white
angel.
“It’s up to the guards to find the child,” answered Diane with authority. “My missionaries will do the rest.”
“It's not that simple,” replied the seraph guard, the black angel who had announced the bad news. “Their power has intensified.”
“So what? Do you doubt the competence of my missionaries? There's nothing the demons can do that my legionaries can't handle.”
Once again, the assembly grew silent. Tara tried to approach Diane to better examine her, impressed by the charismatic seraph that she was, surrounded by so many chiefs. She slowly tiptoed towards her, although no angel seemed to detect her presence.
Suddenly Diane turned her head in her direction. Tara froze on the spot.
“Michael, I think we should persuade the demons that an agreement is possible. This will allow us to take them by surprise. We offer them what they want and the moment they hand over the child, we trap them and exterminate them...”
“Much too risky,” interrupted the black angel.
“You know what my missionaries and I are capable of,” replied Diane, without taking her eyes off Michael.
He didn’t respond. Instead, he considered Diane's proposal. In the meantime, Tara discreetly approached the seraph, increasingly losing control over herself with every step she took. When she was less than a yard away from her, she no longer paid attention to what she was doing. Totally entranced by Diane, she instinctively moved towards her. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion as she came out of the shadows despite herself, and with no self-awareness whatsoever; she grabbed the seraph by the arm and sat down on her lap. Diane didn’t react. Instantly, they became one. Now, inside Diane's body, Tara scrutinized the assembly. Proud and confident, she felt like nothing could stop her.
L’ange blanc, séraphin en chef des Messagers, reprit la parole :
HAGEN: 1. Revelations Page 14