Legacy of a Dreamer (19 page)

“The Shade cannot penetrate something that has been sanctified,” Mathias said. “Think of it as a blind spot. From within the Shade, hallowed ground simply does not exist. Because of that, we cannot land in it, and those that are made of the Shade cannot step foot on it.”

“That’s why we landed outside the church, both here and in New York.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Chantal sat contemplating for a moment, and Mathias remained silent.

“How do they find Oracles? Do we have some kind of inner beacon or something?” She drew patterns in the ground, shifting the dirt with a small stick.

“I’m not sure I want to answer that question.”
 

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to frighten you any more than you already are.”

“Look,” Chantal said, getting up and dusting off her hands and jeans, “I don’t think I can be any more freaked out, so just spill it.”

“Chantal,” he said, running a hand through his black hair in exasperation. “Haven’t you had enough information for a while?”

“Don’t do that,” she said, pointing a shaky finger at him. “Don’t act like I’m some weak woman who can’t handle anything.”

He gave her a pointed look, as if to remind her of the near mental breakdown she’d suffered not even twelve hours ago.

“I can handle it.”

“Fine,” Mathias said. “Oracles still hold the Grace of Heaven. With age, that grace only strengthens, allowing them to be seen within the Shade as great balls of light and clarity. Unless they are hidden within the bubble created by hallowed ground, they are vulnerable. That is how the Kajola hunt and that is how they found you.”

“You don’t think I should’ve known about that? Pretty important piece of information, don’t ya think?”

   
Chantal was furious. More than that, she was disappointed. She’d thought she could trust Mathias enough to be honest with her, especially about something that would impact her life. He’d no former knowledge of Damon being her brother, so she had no reason to think he’d been hiding anything from her.

“I’m not going to just sit you down and tell you every little thing you should know about this world,” Mathias said.

“But something that will impact the way I live my life is kind of a big deal.”

“Everything is going to impact your life, Chantal. Your life has changed. Deal with it, and stop getting so angry every time you find out something new. I’m not the bad guy here.”

“Well, you seem like one. Especially when you’re not up-front with me!”

“I’m being as forthcoming as I know how to be. If that’s not good enough for you, I don’t know what to tell you. Have I not proved my honor and loyalty enough for you to trust me?”

A shuffling noise outside followed by a sudden bang made them halt in their tracks. Both remained on alert, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. Another slight creaking from the direction of the porch resounded into the room, and Mathias shot to attention, running over to a boarded up window to check it out.

“What is it?” Chantal whispered. She hadn’t moved an inch, too afraid that the Kajola had found her.

“Stay here,” Mathias said, and went outside to check, leaving Chantal to worry herself into a panic. She kept her eyes fixed on the doorway and both ears open.

A gust of wind crept through the cracks in the decrepit wood, the whistling air sounding like moans. A few more creaks of wood and a scurrying of tiny feet had her on edge. Just then, the front door flew open, and Chantal gasped as a figure crossed the threshold.

“Hello, Chantal. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Andreu.” Chantal sighed, relieved, and gave him a huge hug, taking in the large bag of items in his arms.

“I found him lurking about,” Mathias said.

“I got trapped out in the desert once the sun rose.” Andreu chuckled. “I think I jogged a half a dozen miles before coming across this place and still I wasn’t sure if you two were in here.” Andreu dropped his bag on the ground and rummaged through it.

“There can’t be too many sacred places out in the middle of nowhere. I’m just a lucky girl. Guess this is my life from now on, isn’t it?” Mathias glared at her.

“Am I missing something here?”

“I think I should take a quick look around outside,” Mathias said, his eyes never wavering from Chantal’s.

“Good idea.”

After Mathias left, Andreu said, “Well, you two seem to be hitting it off better than ever.

“I’m sorry.” Chantal sighed. “I know I’m acting like such a spoiled brat. He just makes me so damn mad, and all of this is just so horrible. He probably hates me.”

“I’ve known Mathias for a long time, and believe me, that man does not hate you.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t like me very much. What kind of life has he had watching over his charge all these years? I’d imagine none at all. I hardly feel worthy of that kind of loyalty,” Chantal said, digging her hands into her pockets to keep from fidgeting.

Andreu paused in his unpacking to study her, and Chantal felt a little odd under his scrutiny, but she didn’t say anything. Then he just smiled.

“Come sit with me.” He motioned toward the ground near the smoldering fire. “Let’s have a chat.”

After quick internal consideration, she figured if he’d been so willing to fight and die to give her and the other Oracles a chance to escape, she could at least give him this.

“Are the girls okay?” She picked at a weed growing through the floorboards as she steered the conversation away from her tremulous relationship with Mathias.
 

Relationship? Not even close. She thought.

“They’re safe. And don’t try to change the subject.” He handed her a bottle of water from his pack, and Chantal took it gratefully. She busied herself by drinking half the contents, her exertions with Mathias earlier having left her more dehydrated than she’d thought. As she drank, she noticed Andreu’s dark olive skin that complemented his light amber eyes, and wondered where he was from. He waited for her with the patience of a well-trained counselor, and she knew she couldn’t stall any longer.

“Why is he so distant?” she asked, glancing away.

“My friend Mathias has a lot to live up to, as does his brother,” Andreu said. “Their father, Nicolae, was a great warrior for the Contrites. He fathered three children of Titus’ generation, two boys and a girl, Katerina.”

“What happened to her?”

“No one knows,” he said. “Last they heard of her, she was being guarded by her father. Not even Titus knows what happened, or he’s not telling.”

“I don’t know anything about the histories of your kind, but it seems a lot of it comes into play now.”

“Yes, it does seem that way,” Andreu said, staring into the fire with a pensive expression. “Do you know the history of the Contrites?”

“Just what Mathias told me, which is very little.”

“Well, I’m sure he’s been extremely busy saving your life to fill you in on all the gossip.” Andreu gave her a warm smile, and the accuracy of what he said made Chantal feel guilty for her behavior toward Mathias.

“Let’s see, where to begin . . .” Andreu leaned back against a broken pew, seemingly looking into the distance for the memories. She thought he resembled an old storyteller, despite the fact he didn’t look a day over twenty-five. All he needed was a long pipe and he’d be channeling that wizard on
Lord of the Rings
. Chantal stifled a giggle.

“You know that our forbearers were Fallen Angels, correct?”

“Yes, and that my father was a Contrite warrior. He and a handful of Fallen rejected the Evil One.”

Andreu nodded. “The Contrites separated from the Fallen, rejecting their pledge for souls and corruption. To protect the innocence of mankind, they made a pact to defend against the darkness and legion of Shadows. They knew at the time that no matter how hard they fought against the Evil One, their prior transgression could not go unpunished, and they would be forever lost to the Grace of Heaven. However, in reward for their penance, they were spared the disfigurement of the Fallen, retaining more human-like, rather than bestial, features.”

“Bestial? What do you mean?”

“The Fallen once held the beauty of the Angels, but in their greed and lust for power, they became ugly and rancid. They are the devils depicted in folklore and legend, the things nightmares are made of.”

“Have you seen one before?”

“No, none of us warriors has seen one and lived to tell about it. They are very powerful, and one-hundred-percent lethal. Only the Contrites have fought them to any success, and there are only a few left now.”

“I think I’ve seen one in my dreams,” Chantal said, almost to herself. Memories of the creature that had held her captive in the room of the endless hall came to mind, its demented laughter and claim on her life keeping her nerves on edge.

“If that is true, I do not envy your gift.”

“What happened after the Contrites split? What made them go into hiding?”

“After the upheaval, a great war ensued, and the Contrites assumed the Angels would come down from the Golden Gates to help defend humankind because they are far more powerful than any entity on Earth. To usurp their involvement, The Evil One sent an army of Shadows to the gates to keep the Angels preoccupied. The Contrites were left to fight the Fallen on their own.”

“How could the Angels just do nothing to protect their brothers?”

“Ah, but don’t you see? The Contrites were no longer brethren. They made the choice to leave, thereby giving up the Grace of Heaven.”

Chantal didn’t have a response, although a few more questions formed in her mind, and she resolved to ask Mathias about it later.

“The Contrites took a massive hit, leaving only half a dozen alive,” Andreu said. “They sounded the retreat, taking to the Shade to travel, the barren wastelands of the world to hide. They were hunted mercilessly, yet survived for thousands of years.”

“So the hunt began a long time ago?”

“The hunt for the Fallen did, yes. The hunt for the Oracles came much later.” Andreu paused for a moment.
 

It had to stink, living all those years, watching time pass by while living on the outskirts of civilization. She could only assume it was a lonely existence.

“The first Contrite to fall in love after the division of the Fallen was Chyme—one of the remaining surviving Contrites,” Andreu said with a knowing smile. “He married his beloved, Celadine, and began a family. They had a small girl named Constance. She was the light of their lives, bringing joy to a creature who thought he’d lost the ability to be truly happy after his regretful decision to follow the rebels in their greed and search for power. She was barely able to form words when the dreams began, and it didn’t take long to figure out what they meant. Chyme was afraid for what her dreams meant for their future, so he took his family and fled.”

Chantal sighed, knowing that this is what life would be like for her from now on, hiding from the Shadows, always on the run. It seemed she too would live a long life on the outskirts.

“The Evil One is corrupt and cruel, and he has created strongholds throughout mankind, warping his victims’ minds to do his bidding. He learned of the girl from a handmaid who’d lived next to Celadine. She knew of a secret marriage to a man with gray skin, and that they’d had a daughter named Constance shortly thereafter. She’d given him her confession as she’d writhed below him. He used her body and her mind, corrupting her soul, taking what he wanted like a parasite, and then ended her life.”

“That’s horrible!”

“That’s wickedness and corruption at its finest,” Andreu retorted.

“So, what happened? Did they ever find the girl?”

“Yes, the Shadows found the family when the girl was very young. After killing his wife in cold blood, the Fallen took Constance and gave her over to the Evil One. He kept her as a toy in order to force Chyme into swearing allegiance to him and to inform on his brothers in hiding. Chyme refused, and Constance was killed.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Chyme mourned for a thousand years, fighting like a man driven to the brink of madness. He became a sniper, taking out the Fallen one by one, hunting them.”

“Smart man,” Chantal said, and Andreu chuckled.

“It was almost eleven-hundred years before he allowed himself the love of another woman. Although he still loved his Celadine, he knew she would want him to love again. Chyme and Maria were married, and it was three years before they had their own child, Abegail. She too was murdered in cold blood. Over and over again, Chyme’s curse continued. Nine little girls in all he buried. Nine times he had to suffer the devastating loss; nine times, he had to put his heart back together again. Some say we all have our cross to bear in life, our own brand of penance. No one, no matter their sins, deserves to suffer like this.”
 

“How devastating,” Chantal said, lost in a wave of grief for the poor father’s fate. “Part of me wonders why he kept trying, too. Why risk the heartache when he knew how it would most likely end?”

Andreu shrugged. “Many have wondered why he never stopped procreating, avoiding the loss altogether, but life is not ours to grant or reject. Chyme understood that, and lived by that principle. No matter our sufferings, each life has a purpose. It was also believed that perhaps his behavior was part of the curse placed upon him after Constance was killed. Maybe he was compelled to continue having children as part of a desperate need, a lie, just so the Evil One could destroy him over and over. Makes it seem less horrible if one could think that he didn’t have a choice in the matter.”