Two Books in One - Ominous Love and Paradox - The Angels Are Here (25 page)

The enemy had been victorious in this fatal battle, and was a step closer to their target. It was only a matter of time before they would be standing on the doorstep—and not waiting for an invitation to enter.

His eyes burned yellow, his nostrils flared. Abaddon did not take this news well. He swiped the half-naked girl off his lap with the back of his hand, stood and stepped over her. “You failed?” he shouted angrily in disbelief. “There were three of you, and only one of him, and you still failed? You are but useless imbeciles.”

The girl whimpered on the floor behind him. “Oh, for God’s sake…” he groaned, giving her no more than an annoyed glance. “You,” Abaddon said, beckoning the black-clad doorman standing statue-like at the arched entrance. “Get her out of here before I wring her goddamned scrawny neck.”

The doorman bowed and dragged the sobbing girl up off the ground and out of the chamber by her arm.

“Master…” one of the men began.

“Did I say you could speak, you worthless piece of shit?” he shouted, suddenly appearing in front of the man, fingers clenched tightly around his throat, silencing him.

The second man remained silent and lowered his head.

“I send you to do one simple task, and you come back with nothing,” Abaddon roared. “Nothing!”

His other hand came up so fast that the man was oblivious when Abaddon, with one swift movement of his wrist, snapped his neck. He released his grip and let the man fall in a lifeless heap on the marble floor. His skull made a sharp cracking sound as it hit the marble floor. His black eyes, unblinking, stared up grotesquely toward his silent companion. A trickle of blood oozed out of the side of his mouth.

Abaddon turned, his long black jacket slicing through the air like a blade. And to the second man he said quite calmly, “Take your
friend
and get the hell out of here, before I change my mind.” He stormed back to the long, ornate timber table, snatched up a crystal decanter, and refilled his goblet. He took a sip, scowled, then flung the goblet into the stone fireplace. “Bring me another girl,” he shouted, waking the black inked snake tattooed across his exposed chest. The serpent quivered around his body, down his left arm to his wrist where a forked tongue flickered, then hissed. Abaddon bent is head back at an impossible angle to allow a guttural roar and a flurry of black evil to spew from his mouth. His hunger for blood burned through his blackened veins.

Chapter 13—Being Human

Angela, as though sensing Abaddon’s wrath across the vast universe, trembled. She knew that none here, on this planet, regardless of their abilities, was prepared for the evil that was coming. The innocent souls of men, women and children would be destroyed. Immense knowledge, gathered over the centuries, would be lost again, should they fail. None could possibly endure the powerful onslaught from the unrestrained elements of the
Wafes -
Water, Air, Fire, Earth – should they be forced into battle here on Earth.

Their title failed miserably in providing the acute enormity of the Wafes true powers. But perhaps that is exactly what the title was intended to do — mask their true strength.

Wade turned to look at Angela, understanding her mounting apprehension. He had felt the burning ripple of evil, too.

Angela returned his gaze and frowned. ‘
When are you going to tell Kate who you are, what really happened to… Brian?
’ she asked him silently.

‘
When the time is right; this can’t be rushed. Timing is of the utmost importance, you know that
,’ came his silent reply.

Angela nodded and lowered her head. She could not let fear budge her from her duty.

“More coffee, Wade?” Kate asked, breaking the silence that had crept over the room like a huntsman spider moving closer toward its unsuspecting prey.

“Sure, that would be great, thanks Kate,” Wade answered, shifting his gaze from Angela to Kate.

This was not the time, nor the place for such a discussion—spoken or otherwise. He smiled, what he trusted was a convincing smile at Kate. His smile worked—outwardly. Her frown dissolved into a smile, smoothing her furrowed brow. Inwardly, the knot in her stomach tightened, but she let it go, telling herself not to be foolish. The thoughts that haunted her were just dreams, nothing more. She was a mother, a wife… No, not a wife, a widow. The frown returned.

“I wouldn’t mind another piece of that cake, either,” Wade added quickly.

Kate shook her head, clearing her head and ignoring the darkness that whispered in her ear. “Sure, help yourself. Anyone else?” Kate asked. “Actually, I think I’ll have another piece myself. It is pretty good, isn’t it, even if I do say so myself.”

“Yeah, well done, Mum,” Grace added. Anything Kate cooked from scratch, Grace knew from experience, was an enormous achievement for her mother, and quite often an enormous risk. Eating food that had been delivered in cardboard boxes or plastic containers was usually considered the far safer option on any given day.

They sat making idle conversation and eating Kate's banana cake into the afternoon. All seriousness temporarily left behind—but for some, not forgotten.

The small group gathered around the table portrayed a picture-perfect scenario of a normal family discussing the events of an ordinary day. However, nothing about this group was normal or ordinary—no matter how much they wished it to be.

Only Angela looked increasingly preoccupied by the turmoil of her thoughts. No one questioned Angela about her absence from conversations. Silence, in fact, was considered normal behavior for Angela on any given day.

She could often be found sitting quietly, reading a book, or just contemplating her own thoughts. Completely distracted by another time, another place—the past, the present, the future. It was often hard to tell which time-zone her thoughts were preoccupied with.

And Grace, who was used to her own solitary existence, was never fazed by the lingering silences that stretched out between them. Sometimes, they would sit for hours in complete silence, caught up in their own thoughts. When the silence was eventually broken, usually by Grace thinking out loud, it was a silent reply that was usually forthcoming to answer her wondering mind.

Angela took a nibble absently out of her piece of cake. The imminent events that preoccupied her could quite possibly be documented as a global killer in future records. That was, if any of her kind survived the onslaught to submit them into the ancient leather-bound record books. At the very least, the battle would certainly be categorized as a human — and an immortal — killer.

Grace too, was distracted for a moment.
I wish Dad was here
, she thought sadly to herself, but continued to smile. Her mother was happy, and she wanted to make sure she stayed that way. And Wade was back, surely that gave her reason enough to be happy?  Didn’t it?

Wade felt Grace’s sorrow; he wanted so much to return her father to her, but that would be foolish. More than that though, it would be incredibly dangerous. An enormous risk to her life and the lives of others. So he pushed the idea from his mind. It was most certainly not an option worth entertaining any further. Her sorrow, for now, had to be her knight in shining armor.

They continued to laugh and talk about a diversity of subjects. From a job that Wade was helping Kate get, a waitress-come-bar-maid position at O’Regans Tavern, to how Wade had been called to a break-and-enter.

He had discovered an old woman wedged firmly in a window. The woman had locked herself out and had managed to get herself stuck in a lavatory window, trying to get back in. Mr. Dipsy, her toy poodle, had gone ballistic, alerting the neighbors to the possibility of foul play.

“That was not a pretty sight,” Wade said, flinging his hands dramatically in the air then covering his eyes. “Completely commando, not a scrap of underwear!”

They all laughed at Wade’s entertaining translation of the event. All except Angela, who sat there completely straight-faced. She failed utterly to find any humor in the incident at all.

“Oh, how horribly embarrassing for her. What did you do then?” Kate asked with her hands over her mouth.

“Thankfully, there was a female officer, so I gladly left her there to deal with it.”

Graced giggled. “Thank goodness for the police force, we can all sleep safely in our beds at night knowing that we are safe from knickerless little old ladies climbing in our windows.”

Angela’s eyes widened, elated in the discovery of a plausible reason to this tale. “Yes, safe, now that is very, very important!” she said enthusiastically.

Everyone turned toward Angela, completely baffled by her sudden enthusiasm in the conversation.

Aware now of her under-the-microscope status, Angela picked up her glass of
Milo and gulped it down. Then, with a flawlessly straight face, she burped. Her eyes opened wide in mock surprise. She quickly covered her mouth with her fingers. “Oh, pardon me!”

Everyone burst out laughing. And this time, Angela joined in and laughed, too.

“Oh my God, Angela, I don’t believe it. You made a joke!” Grace said, holding her stomach from laughing so hard.

Angela grinned. She was learning quickly how to fit in—how to be human. The situation, she concluded triumphantly, had been perfectly amended—for now.

Chapter 14—Cracks Between Shadows

Kate made another coffee for Wade as she contemplated what to prepare for dinner. After a little deliberation… the evening ritual began.

Kate: “Chinese?”

Grace: “Yep.”

Kate: “Grab the menu.”

Grace plucked the menu for the Golden Eagle home delivery service off the fridge door. It was held in place by a magnetic calendar advertising a Pizza delivery service—also regular visitors at the Connors’ household.

Grace wrote down everyone’s preferences.

The menu was splattered with stains from Chicken Chow Mein, Black Bean Sauce, Vegetarian Stir-Fry, and was curled up at the corners from its frequent use.

“Golden Eagle Take-Away, Tyra Chan speaking, can I take your order, please?”

“Hi Tyra, Kate here, from
Bremer street.”

“Oh hi, Mrs. Connors, what can I order for you tonight?”

Kate read out the list over the phone.

“Prawn chips,” Grace called out. “Don’t forget the prawn chips and crispy noodles.”

“I heard her. Thanks Mrs. Connors, that will be about… let me see… half an hour.”

“I think the whole street heard her. Half an hour sounds perfect, Tyra. Oh, and Tyra, no meat in the fried rice, Grace has become vegetarian.”

“Oh, okay. No worries, Mrs. Conners. Anything else?”

“No, I think that’s it. Oh, extra peas in the fried rice. And please say hi to your mum for me.”

“Will do.”

Kate hung up the phone. And that is how the evening ritual usually concluded.

Grace grabbed a pile of plates, and Angela came back to the table with the cutlery.

“Anything I can do?” Wade asked as Grace and Angela darted about, setting the table.

“Nope,” said Grace, sliding a plate in front of him.

Exactly half an hour later, as promised the food arrived. “Hello, Golden Eagle take-away,” an old man announced through the screen door with a heavy Asian accent.

Wade greeted the stooped old deliveryman at the door. The old man’s leathery skin stretched gauntly over every inch of his bent, bony frame. Gold fillings sparkled in his toothy mouth when he grinned.

“Oh good, the food’s arrived,” Grace said, jumping off the sofa from in front of the television to help Wade with the bags of food. “I’m starving.”

Angela shook her head. The expression
drama queen,
that Grace quite often used was starting to make sense.

“I do believe you are being a drama queen, Grace,” Angela said, feeling proud for using the expression at the appropriate time.

“Well said, Angela,” Kate said, laughing at the girl sitting straight-backed at the table.

“Well, thank you, Mrs. Connors,” Angela beamed, bowing her head in appreciation.

Champ, the dog with the gift of super-smell, materialized on the front doorstep at the same time as the old man and yapped excitedly.

“Arr, you a funny little dog,” the old man said as the pint-sized terrier circled his bowed legs, and then shot through the door to find a spot beside Angela. Champ had an undeniable preference for the taste of Asian cuisine.

The bags of food dangling from the old man’s gnarled fingers emitted mouth-watering aromas. The aromatic scents of jasmine rice, coriander, lemon grass and ginger wafted tantalizingly into the room.

Wade dropped money into the old man’s cupped hand. He counted it, nodded.  “Thank you, Mister, enjoy your food, okay,” he said smiling before shuffling off toward his red delivery van with an oversized wok mounted on the roof.

Wade watched the old man slide into the seat behind the steering wheel. For a few seconds their eyes met. Then the old man gave Wade an acknowledging nod. Wade returned the gesture and waited until the delivery van had pulled out of the driveway before he closed the door behind him and joined the others in the kitchen.

They all congregated noisily around the table and dished themselves up portions from the plastic containers.

“Are you sure that’s enough, Angela?  A sparrow eats more food than that,” Kate said, settling herself down in a chair at the table.

Angela’s serving consisted of a small pile of fried rice, mainly peas, her favorite, in the centre of her plate. “Oh yes, Mrs. Connors, this is more than adequate, I assure you, but thank you.”

They teased each other joyfully as they fumbled with the wooden chopsticks delivered with the meal. Eventually though, their impatience - and hunger - got the better of them, and they reached for the cutlery. They all went back for seconds, except Angela, of course.

Wade continued providing the night’s entertainment by telling humorous stories about his job as they all busied themselves with kitchen chores. He didn’t think it appropriate to mention the not-so amusing aspects of his job. Like the other kinds of evening rituals that he was encountering more frequently now. Those evening rituals slammed him hard in the chest every time they assaulted him.

Human flesh splattered on lounge room walls—ripe with maggots. The broken limbs found dumped in plastic garbage bags—that had been skinned alive. A family literally torn apart and drained of their blood, which had been presumably used for satanic rituals. Rape victims who babbled on incoherently about monsters who had taken their souls...

“What about dead bodies?” Grace asked with a morbid fascination. “Have you ever seen any of those?”

Wade remained silent, spooning sweet corn and chicken soup into his mouth to avoid answering the question.

Angela squirmed uncomfortably in her chair and looked at Wade.

“Grace, don’t be so gruesome, you’ll just give yourself nightmares. Come on,” Kate continued, rising from her chair. “Dishes.”

The two girls washed and dried dishes as Kate cleared the table.  There were no leftovers to store in the refrigerator for tomorrow, only empty containers for the trash.

Grace gave Angela a commentary of why having a boyfriend was so important.

“One, they can hold your hand while you watch a scary movie.”

“Movies aren’t scary,” Angela said, wiping a plate and sitting in down on the bench.

“Two,” Grace continued, unperturbed by Angela’s response. “They can fight the kids at school that pick on you.”

“No one picks on me.”

“What about those kids that teased you about your hair?”

“Humph, that was nothing; I can fight my own battles when I need to,” Angela answered, shrugging her shoulders.

“Three, they can paint your toenails.”

“I have you for that,” Angela retorted.

“Okay, okay, let me think,” Grace said, picking up a soapy plate from the sink. She lost her grip on the plate. It slid from her fingers. In that same second, Angela spun around and caught it just moments before it reached the floor.

“Whoa, great catch. How did you do that?” Grace asked, stunned by the swiftness of Angela’s astute reflexes.

“Lucky catch, Angela,” Wade said.

“Yes, lucky.” Angela nodded, dying the plate and stacking it with the others.

“Hmm, anyway, where was I up to? Four I think? Yes, four,” Grace said continuing with the dishes in the sink, and her list.

In hindsight, Angela thought, she should have just let the plate smash on the floor. Cleaning it up would have been far less painful than listening to the boyfriend narrative.

Wade chuckled under his breath listening to Angela’s thoughts as he collected plastic containers and soft-drink bottles and shoved them into garbage bags. Then he thought sadly, this is what garbage bags were meant for, trash—not human remains.

He hauled the rubbish bags outside, opened the lid to the bin and tossed them in.  It was hard to see garbage bags and not think about the ones that broken bodies had tumbled out of. And the stench from the decaying flesh, that had been putrid.

He watched as dark ominous clouds began to coagulate in the night sky. A brisk breeze scuttled through his brown hair, coercing a stray tuft to fall across his corrugated brow.

Curtains billowed in the open windows; tree branches shushed as they stooped then rose. Loose leaves fell aimlessly to the earth below. A lone dog barked. Others joined in on the raucous chorus. A silent cavalcade of flying foxes moved stealth-like overhead.

Wade paused for a moment, listening, and then focused intently on the voices coming from inside the house.

“He does so, Angela. I know it. Can’t you tell by the way Josh looks at you?  He can’t keep his eyes off you, and all that grinning, ugh. That's a sure sign.”

“Don’t tease her, Grace; you can see that it makes her uncomfortable. Champ, put that shoe down, no, no, stop, stop, drop it! Oh God, look at it. Naughty boy, Champ!  Grace, how many times have I told you to put your shoes away?”

“Is there any ice-cream, Mum?”

“In the freezer. Dish everyone up some.”

“Can we eat it in front of the telly?”

“Sure, but not before you put your shoes away. Before Champ gets a chance to start eating the other one.”

The voices reminded him of another time, another life, another family. His memories collided, Brian and Wade’s both, raced through his mind. Two lives, two souls mingling together as one. The common factor holding them both together—a life force of energy. His. He raked his fingers through his hair, composed himself, and went back in to join this family, Brian’s family.

It wasn’t his family anymore, no matter how badly he wanted it to be. Guilt gripped his heart; he drove the memories from his mind to focus on other things.

The screen door closed slowly behind him with a gentle click. Frogs croaked. Thunder grumbled.

Things that were far more threatening were on his mind. Like the danger that he knew was lurking silently in the cracks between the shadows—waiting.