Apocalypse Rising (13 page)

"What if she suspects?" the man on the other end of the phone asked. “He seemed unaware. I think he has lost his faith.” It was a curious thing to Gabriel, an Angel that no longer believed in God, or at least no longer trusted in God’s plan.

Peter tapped his chin in thought for a moment. "If he suspects anything then you will die,” Peter said matter-of-factly. “He will return to the church, kill everyone inside and turn the girl into a monster before we can do anything about it. I have arranged for some help on that front. Thomas will be there soon to set up some protection for you.” Peter considered what else might be necessary. “Also, I am sending Tony and his crew to make sure there are no unexpected complications."

"But I--"

"But nothing, Gabriel, this is too important to leave it to chance," Simon said. "Do not let her leave and we cannot let him find her until we are ready. If I have to bring in some of the less savory members of our group then I will." Peter hung up the phone, turned to the window and stared up at the sky. It would be over soon and he would be given what he deserved.

I wake without pain. I am at peace, though I know I should be terrified, but I don’t feel the seed of doubt within me. I have a purpose, and I know I can achieve anything.

If only I knew what my purpose was.

I sit up from a bed of fresh hay, and look around. I’m in a cozy, little room filled with furniture shaped from living wood. There are no signs of a blade ever touching any of it. A small fire burns in a fireplace of shaped stone, heating a kettle of steaming liquid. It feels like home.

“I am glad you are awake, Justin.” Gloriana’s voice is sweet and clear, a pleasant change from the shout of earlier. “Would you like something to drink?” she asks and I nod. “It is my own blend of herbal tea,” she says as she grabs the kettle, and pours the contents into a beautiful wooden cup. “It will help you wake up, and regain your place in the universe.” She hands me the cup, and I drain the cup quickly, enjoying the heat as it courses through me. The faint taste of peppermint and cardamom rises above the other unknown flavors that blend together.

“Thank you,” I gasp, after swallowing the last of the tea.

“You are welcome,” she says with a smile. “Now relax, and focus your thoughts on the here and now. We need to talk about what to do next, and I cannot have you being at peace with the universe while we do it.” Her laughter reminds me of the ringing bells. “I am all for peace, but a war is brewing, and you have a role to play in it. Maybe when it is all done, you will be allowed to regain your current state of grace.”

“What war?” I ask as the tea starts to do its work. The shadows in the room become deeper, the fire less inviting, and my surroundings less friendly; only Gloriana’s smile remains unchanged, but I can’t help but notice the way the corners of her mouth twitch like she is forcing it. “Wow,” I say, “this is some powerful stuff.”

“It gets the ball rolling, the rest of what you feel is all you,” Gloriana says. “It does not make the world a dark and forbidding place, the tea just helps you see the world for what it is.”

“No offense,” I say, “but I think I prefer the way the world looks before the tea.”

“No offense taken,” she says. “I remember a time when the world was that way and I hope to see it again someday, but for now we must deal with the world the way it is.”

“What happened?” I ask. As reality returns to the shades of grey I am used to, I remember the strange look on Julius’s face. “Where is Julius?”

“Julius is resting. He is old, in human terms he is ancient, but he was not prepared for such an event.” Gloriana looks down, and shakes her head.

“What event?” I ask. “I don’t understand what is happening.”

Gloriana looks at me and sighs. “I wish I did not believe you. It would make it easy to hate you, to wish you ill, but I do believe, so I cannot wish you harm.” She stands and approaches me. She takes my hand in hers and says, “You are in danger, Justin, and not just from the mortal men who hunt you. There are greater forces at work in the world, and they have become aware of you.” She smiles at me, but it never touches her eyes. “I am afraid you are central to all of their plans, and you will not know peace until one of them wins.”

"What plans? Why me?" I ask and slump back onto my makeshift bed.

"Honestly, I am not sure," she says as she sits beside me. "But, you should take comfort in knowing you are not alone in whatever you will face." I look at her, glad to know that I will have her assistance. "Not me," she says and the moment of hope is gone, "nor my people. We cannot afford to become embroiled in a battle of this scale." She sighs and shakes her head. "You have seen my people as they are now. They have fallen far, and it has been all I can do to keep them from falling further."

"What happened?" I ask. "My experience with the Fey is limited, but I recall the elves being more at home in the wild than below the streets of man."

Gloriana pats the back of my hand and says, "We were, and hopefully we will be again, some day. As magic has waned in this world, and man has encroached upon the lands once held sacred, we have been pushed away from what we were, and have become something less. We survive down here, but little else. I am afraid our days of glory are behind."

“So, what do I do now?” I ask.

“That is entirely up to you, Justin,” Gloriana says. “You can stay here a little longer, but your welcome will not last more than another night. You cannot use your power, and you must not leave my home.” Her tone shifts from casual to serious as she says, “you are a hazard to my people, and I do not like risking their wellbeing.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, “but how am I a danger? I won’t hurt them.”

Gloriana laughs, and says, “You would not mean to, but you would. They would see you as either someone to hate, or as a source of hope. If my people kill you, I fear there would be retributions rained down upon us all, and they cannot afford hope.”

“But hope is a good thing,” I say. “It helps you get through the tough times. It pushes you toward something better.”

The elf queen looks me in the eyes, and says, “It is a placebo. Hope is the false promise that people tell themselves is there, because they do not want to face the possibility that they are doomed to a future without promise.” She stands, and walks to the fireplace. “There is no chance that my people will regain stewardship of the earth. When man was given the world, we were cast aside like the forgotten toys of a child who had grown older.”

I know who she is talking about, and anger flares within me before I can crush it back down. I do not always like His choices either, which is part of why I am in this mess, but the hurt and anger in her voice is hard for me to choke down. I know I should let it go, but I say, "perhaps if you found your way again--" Before I can finish the thought, she is across the room and slaps me across the face. The blow is hard enough to make my ears ring.

“Do not peddle your pathetic little philosophies in my home, Angel,” Gloriana says through her clenched jaw. “Your kind is amongst the most ancient, but you are kept blind by the Father, and know less of the real world than you can imagine.” She steps back. Anger and hatred radiates from her as she says, “I too have stood before Him. I have sat at his side, and remember the glory of his presence when it was new, and the universe was full of promise. If my death returned me to his house, I would embrace the opportunity.” Her face softens, and a tear rolls down her cheek. “But, I have a duty and eternal life. I can never go home.”

“I don’t understand,” I say as I try to recover from her strike.

“Of course not,” Gloriana snaps. “You follow blindly. You have accepted the story He wanted you to believe, Angel, and you have never asked for more.” She sits in her chair and asks me, “What do you remember of the time of your creation.”

I close my eyes and think back to the moment my existence began. Angels are not like humans. When we are brought into the universe, we know exactly who we are, and what our purpose is. There are no great mysteries to us.

"I remember His light," I say. "It filled me, and gave me purpose. I knew what I was to do, and what He had done. I left Him, and took up my duties."

"And what were your duties?" Gloriana asks.

"I was tasked with preparing the way for man."

"You were sent to earth?" Her voice is hypnotic and comforting.

"Yes." I say. "My brothers and I laid the foundation for His next creation."

"What did you do exactly?" she asks, and I cannot answer. As much as I try to remember what we did to help prepare the world for man, I cannot. I remember moving about the world, marveling at His creations, but I do not remember doing anything directly.

"I...I don't know," I say. I am too stunned to say much else.

"And you wouldn't," Gloriana says. "The Host's job was to do the biding of the Father in the spiritual realm, and to prepare the way for mortal man's ascension." She sighs and stirs the fire with a long stick with a charred end. "He wanted you to remember something more physical, so that there was something for the host to look at, and feel pride in."

"But the Host does not feel pride," I say. "We live to serve the throne of Heaven. Our lives are his."

"Ahh, but what lives?" she asks. "Do you truly die?"

"Yes," I say. "I've seen it. I have watched an Angel die."

"Did he go to Heaven?"

"Of course not..." The words drifted off as the thought hangs inside my mind. What was our reward for service? Mortals were granted eternal life in Heaven, forever bathed in His light, but Angels simply ceased to be.

"You are not the only ones condemned to eternal life or non-existence," Gloriana says. "We were the builders of His grand design. The Faerie prepared the world for the humans, and when we were finished, we were left to our own devices."

"But we were told--"

"A lie, or a clever omission at least, since I have never known Him to lie." Gloriana shakes her head and says, "he is clever, and not above deception. He lets us make our own assumptions, and allows us to interpret his words without clarification. Humanity is allowed to choose their own path and calls it free will, but if we make choices of our own it is rebellion."

"I made a choice, but I am no rebel," I say.

"That remains to be seen I fear," she says. "I think all of this competition is some sort of game, and the winners and losers will be judged by Him in the end."

I feel pain deep in my chest. I would call it heartbreak, if I actually had a heart. My life has been a lie. I have not been a willing participant, but an actor who has been fed his lines for millennia. "Why?" I ask.

"I wish I knew," Gloriana replies, but I am not asking her. He is the only one who can answer, and he has not talked to me since he left.

The front door slams open, and a scruffy looking blonde elf wearing a grey skirt bursts through the door. "My Queen! A mortal is coming. He is a wizard!"

“It is too late!” Gloriana shouts. “You have doomed us, Justin!” Her glare bores through me. She turns to the messenger, and commands, “gather the children, and the elderly. Move them back through the tunnels. Tell everyone else to get in position. I cannot imagine that this wizard is no weakling if he is coming after you.”

“What can I do?” I ask. “That is up to you,” Gloriana says. “You could run. Maybe he will chase you and leave us alone. Or you could stay, fight, and risk death.” She waves her hand toward the door, dismissing me. “It does not matter. We will fight, some will die, and be lost to eternity, but I’ll not suffer the predations of a wizard on my people.”

The messenger grabs me by the elbow, and pulls me toward the door. “Come,” she says, “the Queen has spoken.” We leave the Queen’s warm and cozy home for the dark, putrid village of the elves, beneath the streets of man.

"Where should I go?" I ask.

"Are you running, or helping, human?" she asks while dragging me down a rickety wooden stairway. Her straight blonde hair swishes around back and forth behind her as she walks. She doesn't have the disfiguring marks on her skin, but I notice a number of small scars that are faded with age.

"I will stay," I say. "It is the least I can do."

"Yes, it is," she says with a sneer. She looks me over, her lip curls into frown matched by her narrow eyebrows. "Well, it will never do having you go as you are. You don't even have anything to protect yourself with. Follow me, and be quick about it." She steps off the stairs onto a twelve-inch wide pipe, and runs down the length, disappearing into a hole in the wall.

I follow as quickly as I can, but I am nowhere near as sure-footed as my guide. By the time I am in the tunnel, she has disappeared. I duck, and continue forward, carefully dodging the low hanging pipes that litter the ceiling.

"Hurry up, or we'll be too late to help," she says from somewhere up ahead. I pick up my pace, and bang my head against a protruding rock for my troubles. "In here," she says, and I see her arms sticking out of a dark spot up ahead as she waves me in. "We don't have time to be picky, so I'm just going to give you some of the old, human stuff."