Conquer the Dark (30 page)

“As Daoud’s next-oldest brother, and head of our household, I should speak for the main lady who travels with the angels.”

Disappointed but understanding, the boy capitulated to his uncle with a hug. “But can I stand at your side when you speak?”

Kadeem lifted the boy and walked forward. “Yes, little man. You will always be at my side.”

Celeste followed them, feeling emotion bloom so fast and hard within her chest that tears spilled as she walked forward. Expectant faces quickly gathered at the edge of the dock, and she looked out over a sea of desert-weathered
gazes. In them she saw her mother, her grandmother, and her aunts and uncles, father, cousins.

Their eyes held the eyes of generations of people she’d known. Their silent yearning as their bodies leaned forward straining to hear news of another world, another land, another life, shrouded her like another layer of desert heat until she suddenly realized that she’d been in this village before. That knowing slammed into her core and ignited her DNA. Suddenly she felt fused to the people, to the land, to the history, all in one fell swoop of awareness that left her reeling. They were her; she was them. It was all an unbroken chain of lifetimes, and she was
home
.

Brothers walked behind her and she closed her eyes for a moment, saying a quiet prayer that she would speak the right words, then nodded at Kadeem.

“I was born far away from this land, but I am one of you,” she said in a reverent tone. “Just as I was taken away by water, I return that way to bring you news that all you’ve heard is true. There is more to this life than what we see.”

Kadeem set the boy down beside him and, in a strong voice, repeated Celeste’s words, gaining nods from the crowd. Yet she doubted they fully understood where she was headed with her speech.

“Strong men of war have abused this land and its people for a very long time. Many have suffered and died.”

Murmurs of assent and nods rippled through the crowd as some beat their chests and moved closer.

“But a child has seen that there are angels who walk among us. Abdullah came with an open heart and was the first to see … then his uncle Kadeem, he and his brothers
also saw, and they ferried the angels across the water to visit you.”

Kadeem repeated her words with passion, gesturing wildly with his hands. For a moment no one spoke but simply shared confused glances, then laughter rang out.

Crestfallen, Kadeem looked back at Celeste for support, and she looked at the brothers.

“You think now would be the time for a little burlesque?” Bath Kol muttered, stripping off his shirt.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Isda said, stopping him with a flat palm to the chest. “These people are very conservative. They may get the wrong idea. Put your shirt on, man.”

Celeste went to the edge of the dock when several men scowled and a few women turned away at the sight of Bath Kol’s bare chest.

“You all have seen demons, fallen angels—the jinn?”

As soon as what she’d said was translated, the fervor died down and people stood rapt but looking afraid. It was as though something were speaking through her, as if she were channeling the words from something much larger and way more important than herself. But the rightness of the feel of those words as they exited her mouth told her it was coming from a place of Light that she could trust.

Nodding, Celeste walked along the edge of the small dock. “They cause great suffering and destruction, and sickness and corruption. But you have prayed for a sign, just as Daoud prayed for a sign, that there are Allah’s Light bearers. His protectors, the Mu’aqqibat, or in Hebrew the
malakhav
, or in my language, just
angels
—all cultures have the winged ones. On the pyramids and in the temples, how many beings with celestial powers are
shown with wings? It doesn’t matter what you call the Ultimate Source of good or what gender you claim that Source to be, it is the Most High, and that Source is very displeased with the abuse happening to its good creation.”

Fervent agreement in tones and words and hands clapping followed Kadeem’s translation.

“We bring you a sign to hold on to your Light and your truth,” she said, walking over to the brothers and speaking to them privately. “Now would be a good time to lose the shirts, backs to the crowd, and just bust ’em.”

Isda laughed and whipped his shirt off over his head. “Maybe this is burlesque after all, BK. But guaranteed, the nine-millimeters in our waistbands are gonna be a problem.”

Amid angry jeers and a light pelting of small stones from offended religious men in the crowd, everyone immediately fell silent as each brother’s back expanded and then burst forth with pristine white plumage.

Several women fainted. Children shrieked and clapped and rushed the dock. Men fell down on their knees and wept, slapping the sandy shore.

“Having humans bow down is way beyond the rules, Celeste,” Azrael said to her over his shoulder in a quiet rumble. “Please make them get up!”

“Yeah, sis,” Bath Kol said, joking in a nervous tone, “so what do we do for an encore?”

She held up a finger. “Give me a minute.” Then she walked to the edge of the dock again, where mesmerized children stared up as their parents wept. “These angels are a little different from others you may have heard about. Most of them, except a couple, have been here a long time.
They have helped throughout the ages and weep with you. They understand our plight and our weaknesses as humans. They certainly understand mine. So these guys aren’t here to judge you—they’re here to help you, and all they ask is that you be honest with them and do the right thing by them and others. In fact, you’re making them uncomfortable by bowing. They say you should only bow to Allah, the Most High, no one else—no man, no angel, just the Source. So, please get up.”

As people stood and slowly realized that a vast terror of judgment hadn’t been brought to wipe them out, rapt awe filled their eyes. Celeste took little Abdullah’s hand and walked him back to Azrael. She placed the boy’s tiny hand in Azrael’s, and a few women shrieked, but then calmed when they saw that the child didn’t fall away dead from touching an angel.

“Abdullah, take him off the docks with his wings spread and let the children touch them.” She looked up at Azrael. “I don’t mean to make you feel like you’re in some kind of petting zoo, but you guys are like big, scary lions. People have heard so much about the horrors you inflict when vexed or the harsh judgments you cast down, and each person here knows their own imperfection.”

She pointed out to the crowd. “That’s why they were screaming and covering their faces. You guys have to go down there and walk amongst them, let each person touch you to be able to say, ‘Yes, I, too, remember the day when I walked with angels of the Light … and they were good and kind and funny and loving, and they didn’t beat me down or strike me dead or cast me into the fires of hell for being a flawed human being.’ Let the little boy lead
you among them. If you walk forward without a child escort, these folks are gonna freak. They’ll think you’re coming toward them to strike them dead or something, most likely. The kid kinda takes the edge off of that fear and shows you guys came in peace … and are gentle giants.” She touched Azrael’s face. “Please do that for these people, baby.”

“How a man gwan say no to somet’ing like dat?” Isda said on a sigh.

Azrael nodded and kissed Celeste’s forehead. “There’s nothing in heaven or earth I can deny her.”

T
hey rode into the
gates of Nubia on camel back across a vast stretch of sienna. Here the Nile narrowed and left no space for cultivation. High dune walls flanked the river with only a thin strip of green contrast like a living ribbon to provide a colorful fringe of life against the endless golden-brown sand.

As they entered the small village, vendors immediately bombarded them, but the people who’d been at the docks shooed them away—telling relatives and friends to put away their wares. Confusion created chaos until the mini camel caravan came to a halt in the middle of an adobe-brick courtyard. Kadeem sent Abdullah to run and fetch the village elders. Spice suppliers looked on with curiosity as the foreign riders dismounted. People created a semicircle as Kadeem breathlessly explained to the elders when they arrived, every adult who had been at the dock providing corroboration.

When the old men and women tried to fall to their knees, others lifted them up and tried to keep them from beating their chests. Then the children surrounded the brothers, urging them to open their wings and show their grandparents the miracle they’d witnessed. Reluctantly the brothers complied.

People wept and made prayer hand gestures toward the sky. But slowly, as the children showed the adults that the angels were safe, the adults timidly came up and touched the brothers’ arms and hands and wings.

Bath Kol and Isda were in tears, then just started turning out their pockets, giving money away.

“It feels like the old days,” Isda said in a hoarse tone, looking at Bath Kol. “The Most High never said we couldn’t, but after twenty-six thousand years, we just stopped. Mon, why did we stop?”

“Because we got tired and people stopped believing in miracles,” Bath Kol replied, wiping his face. “We left it to Guardian Angels to do the one-on-one stuff, but I forgot how good this felt.”

Gavreel touched vendors’ tables, making goods and inventory instantly multiply, and Azrael and Paschar went through trying to heal as much as they could. Then the people did the strangest thing. They sat down on the ground, waiting.

“Teach,” one man with sketchy English said, then bowed as he plopped down in the dirt.

Azrael looked at Celeste. “That’s not exactly in my gift set, Celeste. What can I teach them? I’m a destroyer.”

“Hey,” Bath Kol said, holding his hands up, “don’t look at me. I never did lessons well, not even in Heaven.”

Glancing at the crowd over her shoulder, Celeste looked back up at Azrael as Abdullah came between them.

“Teach them that it’s okay to be imperfect, as long as your heart is golden,” she said quietly. “Teach them that it’s all right not to know all the answers, or to be able to fix everything, even when you really want to with everything within you, and teach them how much the Source loves them no matter what.”

“I’m not so good with words, Celeste, you should tell them these things.”

She sighed. “Only if you two come with me.”

Abdullah took up both of their hands and led them before the waiting people. Everything Celeste said, he repeated, then the little boy stared at her with a serene, open gaze.

“Can I tell them something, too?”

“Of course,” Celeste murmured, stooping down to hug him.

The child had never let go of Azrael’s hand, and to her surprise, when she let Abdullah go, he tugged Azrael forward.

“This one is big,” Abdullah said, then repeated his words in his mother tongue so both groups could understand.

The people watching the boy nodded and some even smiled.

“His heart is so big, he is a champion defender. That was the gift he was given by the Most High Beneficent One.” The child paused and stared up at Azrael, having to actually lean back to take him all in. “But even he could not heal me, and this broke his heart. He weeps inside
his chest, even though I know I will see Daoud and my mother and father one day soon.”

The crowd blurred before Celeste and she watched as Azrael’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. People who knew the boy’s plight began openly weeping, but hung on his every word. Those in the crowd who had been healed looked at the child with empathy and confusion; it was all over their faces—why me and not the boy? I am less deserving.

“It’s okay, it’s all right,” the child said, hugging Azrael around his waist as Azrael lifted his chin to hold back his tears. “This one knows there is Heaven, he comes from there. That is why I am happy now, no matter what. But he also knows now that being alive is a gift, and he grieves for one little boy that he does not know, me, because for one moment, all he wanted to do was to let me see how magnificent this world is. I felt this when he tried to heal me. He tried to give me everything there was inside him. He wanted me to grow up big and tall and proud like him, but he couldn’t do it. And this has injured his soul, even though he is loyal to the Most High to the death. But he taught me that even angels weep. So do not be ashamed of your tears. They cry for us and cannot fix all, unless it is supposed to be fixed, and there is a reason. So if you are not as big and strong as the one they call Azrael is, and you have fallen short, you can weep because you are disappointed, but do not weep because you think you have failed. You have not, if you tried your best.”

Azrael slowly dropped to his knees and hugged the child to him, his tears spilling over the bridge of his nose
onto the child’s shoulders. “I tried, Abdullah, I really tried.”

“Wrap the kid up,” Isda said, his voice breaking as he went to kneel beside Azrael. “C’mon, mon, if we all put in?”

Bath Kol came behind the child and knelt. “You know, old school—one mind, one body, one spirit. Trinity never fails, right?”

“You need female energy for that,” Aziza said, wiping her face, and calling over Celeste, Maggie, and Melissa to ring the three angels that touched the boy.

Gavreel surrounded half of the circle, and Paschar surrounded the other half, with open wings.

“Lead the prayer, Azrael,” Celeste said through a sniff. “I know he’s just one small boy, but we were told that the last will be first and the first will be last and we should all care for the least of us, and all we’re asking is for one little boy to get to grow up. Is that so impossible? He could be a doctor, an engineer, a teacher, or a cleric. That’s just it—he should have a chance to find out. And God knows this child’s heart is pure, even after all he’s seen. We’re just begging for a little mercy, a little Light to come through the darkness of the badlands down here. His mama is gone, his daddy is gone, his big brother is gone, what more?”

Celeste’s voice broke with a sob and then she quickly apologized, “I’m sorry, say the prayer. I just—”