Divine Destruction (The Return of Divinity Book 1) (34 page)

“Hi babe,” Griffin said returning her smile.

“Hey darling,” she said. Her smile increasing in intensity. “How was your Angel nap?”

Griffin chuckled. “I don’t get to sleep while Gabriel takes control. I’m a passenger. I hear, see, feel my thoughts, his thoughts. Come to think of it I feel many thoughts in and around me. If it not for Gabriel I know I would go insane trying to compartmentalize it all.” He made a screwed up face and looked down the aisle. Itishree leaned and turned following Griffin’s stare. A dark suited man, sans tie, had entered their train car. He nodded to them both and sat in the row of seats just inside the car’s furthest doors.

“We’ll need to keep down our voices,” Griffin said. They had moved to this car after boarding the train in Pittsburgh, hoping for privacy. Now, they would need to keep to themselves.

“Move to another seat. Give Itishree an hour alone. She needs to digest all she has written,” Gabriel thought to Griffin.

“I’m going to give you some room to study,” Griffin said. “Do you need anything?”

“Yes, a bottle of water and the privy would be nice.”

“I’ll find the food car, you can find the John yourself,”

They both rose, walked down the aisle towards the suited man. Itishree passed the last row of seats and opened the compartment door, but sensed Griffin had stopped. She stood in the door and saw Griffin pausing at last row. He turned and faced the suited man. Griffin’s face was fixed and stoic. Itishree saw the suited man flench and jerk his head toward Griffin.

Griffin said, “Excuse, I thought I recognized you.”

Itishree reached out and took Griffin’s arm, leading him through the compartment doors and into the next car. She turned her eyebrows opposite themselves. “What was that about? Is he here to harm us?”

“No, but I don’t like him,” Griffin said.

“What does Captain AngelPants say?”

“He isn’t saying anything.”

“You were being rude?” Itishree asked.

“Over reacting, maybe?” Griffin shrugged in self defense.

They headed off on their respective errands. Itishree badly needing to pee and Griffin to purchase two bottles of water. It was Itishree who made it back to their car and her seat first. She saw Griffin open the compartment car, at the opposite end, and step into their car. He gave the suited man a long look while allowing his hand to linger, closing the door. He walked down the aisle, a water bottle in each hand, a look of accomplishment plastered on his face. Itishree smiled and sat up ready to receive one of the bottles of water.

But Griffin stopped short of their seat row. His usual gimpy smile had vanished, replaced by a look of concern. Griffin’s eyes were looking straight ahead. At first Itishree thought Gabriel had taken control of Griffin but she saw his eyes were still green, Griffin’s green.

“Don’t move,” came a non-familiar whisper.

Then she saw a hand reach from behind Griffin and check his left pants pocket, then disappear. A moment later a hand checked Griffin’s right pants pocket. Then Itishree caught a glimpse of the suited man behind Griffin.

“Take off your backpack,” The stranger’s voice said. The voice had a gravel quality to it. The sound made Itishree’s hair stand on end.

Griffin did so, setting the backpack in a seat two rows from Itishree. As he did so, Griffin leaned to his right just enough for Itishree to see the suited man completely, from the waist up. He had a gun pointed at Griffin’s head. The barrel seemed long somehow, extended beyond what was normal in movies, or television.

“Sit down next to your girlfriend,” the gravelly voice said.

Griffin raised his hands at the elbows and walked the two rows. Itishree scooted over to the window seat and Griffin sat next to the aisle. Once he was seated he lowered his hands to his lap. The man remained standing in the aisle.

“Normally,” the suited man began speaking. Itishree heard an accent mixed in with the rough tone. She couldn’t place the accent. “I would kill you both and leave.”

The man walked closer to them both and leaned against the opposite seat, nonchalantly. To Itishree it was the stance of a shopper picking out the best loaf of bread. The man was uncaring.

“But, I have been given an agenda,” he said, looking around the car as if searching to construct his next sentence. “I was hired to ensure I would be here to deliver a message. I have been hired occasionally to give this speech but in all of those instances the circumstances have proven false.”

“What do you want?” Griffin asked.

“To get paid,” the man said. “But what I want is unimportant. First the formalities. I am …”

“Mira Kessler” Griffin said. From the slow and deliberate enunciation, Itishree knew it was really Gabriel who spoke.

The man, Mira, nodded his head slowly and leaned into observe Griffin more closely.

“Maybe we are at this moment, after all. Do you know who sent me?” Mira asked Griffin.

“No,” Gabriel said.

“Interesting, indeed,” Mira said. He straightened, enjoying the irony that escaped Itishree. “A substantial bonus awaits me if this pans out.” Mira smiled but the gun in his hand never wavered from pointing at Griffin. The gunman leaned slightly closer to Griffin and said, “
Cartaphilus
. I was hired by your Department of Homeland Security but in reality Cartaphilus owns most of the guild’s contracts and filters us into government contracts in order to monitor if certain persons return.”

Griffin looked at Itishree with an inquisitive glare. Without Mira and his weapon Itishree would have laughed at Griffin because it was Gabriel who was dumbfounded. As she thought more on Gabriel, Itishree recalled the horror she had seen the Archangel perform this very day. She relaxed. And, Gabriel smiled back at her.

Mira watched the exchange and said nothing. Slight waves of the gun was the only objection Mira could muster. Itishree almost felt sorry for the man.

Mira continued, “
Cartaphilus
has watched for your return. You were out of reach during your time with Buddha. And
Cartaphilus
’ efforts were limited the three years you instructed Muhammad. But since the industrial revolution he has built the means to monitor and respond.”

Itishree glanced over to Griffin and saw his innocent confusion slip into a frown. The frown crashed into an expression of rage. She began to fear for her life then. Not from Mira but from Gabriel’s wrath. Griffin’s hand reached out and comforted Itishree with a small gesture. Itishree still wished she was in another state, far away from what was about to happen.

“
Cartaphilus
gives you this message. You shall not bring about an end to mankind, Archangel. I will remove your messenger and delay the plans of God for another millennia.”

“Holy shit,” Itishree said. She closed her eyes and winced.

Itishree didn’t see what happened over the next few seconds. Mira, the assassin flicked his gun toward Itishree’s head. But before he could discharge the weapon, the gun had turned into metal dust, losing the ability for the metal to bond. Next, Griffin had shot up and struck the assassin in the throat with his opened right hand. The follow through of Griffin’s body sent Mira into the roof of the train car blasting the wind from the assassin’s lungs.

Itishree squealed and fell into the aisle, curling herself to a ball. Griffin blurred and caught Mira as he fell from the ceiling and threw him the length of the train car. The assassin crunched bonelessly against the train compartment’s bulkhead. Griffin bounded into the air and folded back to strike with a hammer blow. But there was no strike. There was no need to strike the assassin again. Griffin stood over the unconscious Mira Kessler.

It was only after a second of silence did Itishree uncover her head and face to peer down the aisle of the train car. Griffin walked the length of the compartment, dragging the limp body behind him. Holding he assassin behind him with his right arm, he bent and lifted Itishree from the floor. A small whimper escaped her throat. Griffin gently sat her down in her previous seat and tossed Mira into the seats across the aisle. With practiced ambition, Griffin sat facing Itishree and inspected her for damage.

“You are unharmed?” Gabriel asked.

Itishree looked about her torso, patting herself down in a physical cliche’. “I’m unharmed.”

Gabriel’s blue eyes changed hue to green.

“Oooooouch,” Griffin said hugging his own arms. Then he slumped over against the train window. “Gabriel popped every joint in my body.”

“Who is that?” Itishree asked pointing at the body across the aisle.

“A thug hired by a bitter immortal,” Griffin said.

“Immortal?”

“
Cartaphilus
was a shop keeper on the street Christ walked on the way to crucifixion. Christ fell before
Cartaphilus
’ shop and paused to gather strength. The cross heavy upon his back. Blood streaming down the length of his body. ‘Move along, move along!’
Cartaphilus cried out, stepping out from his shop to throw scraps at Christ. ‘Move along, why do you loiter?’ Cartaphilus continued.”

Itishree caught on that this was Gabriel telling the story and not Griffin. Griffin’s eyes had closed and his face was a in a forced grimace.

“Christ said, ‘I shall rest, but you will go on till the last day’. And, with that, I placed a curse upon Cartaphilus to walk until the end. Encountering such a figure was not in my original instructions. I’m sorry if you have been further startled.”

“I’m going to be fine. What about Griffin?” Itishree asked.

“Griffin has suffered some physical damaged. I apologize,” the Archangel said. “He will need to rest before we reach our destination. He will recover in a few hours.”

Griffin’s eyes opened and looked at Itishree. She had been holding Griffin’s arms and looking intently at him. She could see one of his collar bones looked out of place.

“You should take this time to study your sermon.”

“What about that?” Itishree pointed again at Mira Kessler’s crumpled body across the aisle.

“He faired much worse and will not awaken until long after we have left this vehicle. He cannot harm you. Now, study while Griffin sleeps.” Griffin’s body relaxed and the grimaced was removed as his face fell into a neutral pose. Griffin’s breathing steadied out and deepened.

The United Nations

Itishree woke to light brushes through her hair. The train continued its steady rocking. She opened her eyes to see Griffin smiling down on her. She must have fallen asleep during her studies and Griffin awakened. She sat up next to Griffin. Looking over the aisle she saw Mira Kessler had not moved from the pile he had been tossed.

“Are you okay?” Itishree asked Griffin.

“I’m sore,” he said smiling. “How are you?”

“Rested. But my head is full of wonder and questions.”

“How so?” Griffin asked.

“From what Gabriel taught me. I’m worried and fascinated. How can we accomplish any of this?” Itishree made a sweeping gesture.

“We?” Griffin asked.

“Humankind. I would love to see mankind come together but I am deeply skeptical.”

A shadow feel across the train. They had entered a tunnel and the train had slowed considerably.

“You’ll know soon. We are about tens miles outside of New York,” Griffin said. His smile was unmovable.

“Oh crap,” Itishree said looking down at her hands in her lap. Crushing anxiety gripped her. The proximity to New York City had brought the realism of her divine task crashing around her.

“Babe, you are going to be awesome. I have faith in you.” Griffin lifted her chin and gave her a warm confident kiss.

Itishree couldn’t remove the look of worry from her face. She nodded and extended her mouth into a line.

“I can do this,” she said. “What do we do with Mira Kessler?”

“Leave him. He moaned a few times while you slept. From his ragged breathing I would guess he has several broken ribs. Maybe a concussion.” Griffin shrugged. “People have come in and out of this car, but no one back this far. Nobody cares.”

Griffin straightened and Itishree saw his eye color change. But even though she was certain Gabriel had taken control once again there was the slightest wince. Griffin was in considerable pain.

“An Archangel sits before you. Sent by the Heavens to Earth. Your species must rise above themselves or be vanquished. God calls for the righteous. The fruit of humanity. Will you answer for all your kind?”

“I shall. I am. It will be me,” Itishree swore.

“Do not fear. I will be your shield and your sword,” Gabriel said.

The look of Griffin’s face was fierce. Primal. Confident. The resolve gave strength to Itishree. Her back straightened too. She squared her shoulders and blew out a long breath.

Griffin reached out and kissed the back of Itishree’s hand. Minutes later they arrived at Penn Station. The station was busy, ancient, and boxy. Both Itishree and Griffin gawked at the internal contemporary splendor for a moment crossing the main hall. The seeming acres of criss-crossing people was distracting to them both. But the pair managed to find their luggage and make their exit onto West Thirty Third Street.