Divinity: The Gathering: Book One (15 page)

“Should I go now?” I asked placing the pillow that I held under my arm back onto the supply cart.

Erin nodded enthusiastically, “Sure, I’ve got this, go on.” She motioned with a nod of her head in the direction of Ms. Hawthorne’s room.

“What should I say or take with me?” I then asked her.

“Wait and see what she says or writes. I left the clipboard with some paper and the pen with her. If you need me or it seems like she’s behaving erratically or in pain, buzz one of us right away. I mean if she wants to talk, and she wants to talk to you; I think it’ll be good for her because she doesn’t get many visitors except for two great grandchildren every now and then.” She then said.

“Oh, okay.” I nodded as I turned to head back down the opposite way and making a left towards Ms. Hawthorne’s room.

             
I knocked softly first before slowly opening the door. I didn’t expect her to tell me to come in.

I stepped into the dim room slowly, lit by only the bedside table lamp next to her bed. It smelled like cough drops and cherry cleanser with a hint of some perfumed talc or powder.

There were several vases of flowers on a buffet-style table along with a carafe of water, a cup and a number of books, including a blue Bible. A recliner sat next to her bed on the window side.

Another flash of lightning lit up the room, and the steady patter of raindrops began to fall faster with soft ticks against the glass.

“Hi there,” I said softly with a smile as I closed the door behind me.

Ms. Hawthorne was sitting up in her bed. Her frail form almost childlike in the bed as her gown barely hung on her thin shoulders.

She looked expectant, eyes wide but her expression didn’t really change much. The clipboard and pen lay on the bedside table next to her. She watched me, and her eyes held affection as if I had been a long-lost friend or even one of her own great grandchildren as I moved to sit in the recliner next to her.

“Erin told me you asked to see me?” I then said fee
ling weird that she wasn’t going to speak or answer back.

I studied her facial expressions, in case she was using them to communicate. She was smiling at me...I think.

“How are you? Is there anything I can get for you?” I then asked searching her face for some sign of a response or reaction.

She studied me for a long moment before reaching out a bony finger and pointing to the stack of books on the buffet table under the window.

I followed her finger and got up, moving over to the table and retrieving the whole stack assuming she wanted me to read to her. With books in hand, I sat back down and rested them on my lap.

“Just stop me and point to the one you want me to read you when you see it,” I said as I held up the first one.

It was a book of some kind of Healing Inspirational Stories mentioned in the title. She didn’t respond, still watching me with her wrinkled lidded eyes. I set the book aside and picked up the next one.

“Okay, um…Chicken soup for the Soul?” I held up the colorful book.

She still didn’t move or speak.

Moving on, the next book was another poetry book but more spiritual in context. The cover showed a woman and a small child walking together near a lake next to a set of footprints made by what was to represent J
esus. She was already pointing at it before I even held it up, so I returned the rest of the stack and sat back down, opening the book and skimming briefly through the index before figuring I’d just start with page one.

Coupled with the sound of the rain and rolling thu
nder, she may just end up falling asleep pretty quickly.  I know it was starting to make me tired all over again myself, and I still had the drive back to the apartment ahead of me.

I began reading the first poem.

Ms. Hawthorne remained quiet and attentive, studying my face the entire time I read.

After read
ing through five poems of the book, she still hadn’t spoken, written anything or fallen asleep yet though her lids looked as if they’d fall at any moment. I actually started to enjoy reading the poems so much, I hadn’t realized I was nearly halfway through the book when I glanced up and saw she had finally fallen asleep. I watched for the slow rise and fall of her chest just to be sure she was still alive. She was.

I stifled a yawn as I gently closed the book and was about to stand up to put it back when I saw it— in the far corner of the room. A black shadow was slinking down the wall from the ceiling like grim ink, and molded itself into the corner, forming a cloud that seemed to bubble as it began to take shape. I tensed, in shock and absolute paralyzed horror that it was here at all because there was no denying it came for me. It was just a feeling I had.

The book slid from my hands as I slowly stood. I didn’t even hear it hit the floor. I nearly screamed and jumped, feeling a thin, skeletal hand suddenly clutch my forearm forcefully, though the grip was weak. I was a breath away from reacting violently in defensive reflex until I realized it was Ms. Hawthorne’s hand, and she was wide awake now. Her soft brown eyes were wide and glassy with a pleading fear, and she was trembling.

Her lips quivered, and she seemed to struggle to form words and force her vocal cords to make sounds.

“Y…y…you s-s…s-see it too?” She rasped in a hiss of a whisper that shocked the hell out of me. Not only was she speaking, but she was seeing the shadow too.

It took me a moment to answer, kee
ping my eyes on the shifting shadow mass

that seemed to be growing in size by the moment.

“Y…you c-c-can s-s-see it, can’t you?” She breathed more insistently again. Her words were choppy given her unused vocal cords for so long, but I understood her.

I nodded with wide eyes.

“I knew y-you c-could…I see you…your aura… It’s k-keeping him Fr…from comin’ too close,” She then said.

My eyes snapped to her in surprise.

“He been followin’ me for a long…t-time He…a s-s-scary…one. He showed his self to me… long ago…h-h-he …a…ugly sp…spirit ‘thang.” She gasped for breath and her words. Her fear was overpowering her speech as if she might go mute again at any second.

This was why she hadn’t been able to speak for so long but how did she know it was the same one? To me, it was simply a dark mass of mist, nothing distinguishable in it. Then again, she said it had been following her for years, so she would know better than I would, even if I could see it now too.

I’ve always read and been told that seeing the face of angels or demons  would render a human being insane, and that no one could handle seeing the face of God himself and be able to walk away. Seeing that much glory was too much, and our brains didn’t possess the comprehension or capacity to accept or tolerate its magnificence.

Society often deemed those people crazy or insane when the truth was that— yes they were; but was it because they could see things most other pe
ople can’t?

My answer to that? Yes.

That was exactly why society and the ones who couldn’t see or hear these shadows and other-worldly beings, labeled them as nothing more than lunatics, touched or insane. So then, maybe I was demented too. Well, Ms. Hawthorne was proof that I wasn’t crazy or dreaming…or was I?

I was too scared to speak let alone compr
ehend anything. Panicked, my brain was firing off a flurry of signals that my muscles and body had no idea how to comprehend, or respond to first.

Maybe this was another dream? That’s it! I’m still safe at my apartment, tucked in my bed sleeping.

“It’s ‘fraid of …you,” She whispered looking at me with saucer wide eyes as she tightened her grip on my arm.

That struck another chord in me. It was the same thing my grandmother always told me.

“Then I won’t let him get you. Just pray and don’t stop no matter what it does.” I stated through clenched teeth with resolve as I stared down the ever growing shadow that seemed to cower a bit.

For a brief moment, I saw what looked like two eyes forming in the cloud that made my stomach quiver with chilling repugnance.

I heard her begin murmuring words and though the shadow reeled and seemed agitated, it still began to grow in size. My next instant reaction was to reach over and

press the nurse call button and get more bodies in here, so I leapt up and practically dove for the a
ttached bedside remote—just barely short of reaching it before lightning flashed brightly once again, and then we were suddenly draped in pitch, silent blackness.

VII: Cam’ael:

            
 
I
knew Edanai would put up an argument about not wanting me to go. The last time she pouted like this it was over my frequenting Morning Star’s domain. She knew why I went, why the others went. It was a place of self-indulgence where every sin and pleasure that befell the fallen, myself included, was available in abundance and never-ending without judgment or rebuke…but not without some sort of price.

I was no longer perfect, which meant no ma
tter how hard I fought against it; I was a slave to my own sins and desires. I didn’t know how to stop…let alone wasn’t entirely sure that I wanted to.

I loved women…beautiful human women. I loved admiring them, touching them, their scent, the texture of their flesh, kissing them and most of all— how they felt, on the inside. The amount of pleasure they are able to physically experience, hold and e
ndure, only added to my lust for them.

I had to be extra cautious though, and I didn’t dare to be careless when it came to my own activities. Sex and penetration never meant actual traditional physical contact for me. We as male demons are both virile and potent. The overpopulation of moronic half breeds and imps attested to that fact, and no one wanted another ‘Great flood’ level punishment an
ytime soon over any accidents or simple stupidity; however, now…I don’t think that would even matter anymore.

Edanai and I had once been close compa
nions. That was a long-time ago though we remained close friends, and we still cared for one another having gone through much in our existence. I didn’t tell her the real reason that I wanted to visit the human realm once again so soon. She’d find out the rest soon enough.

Edanai had just finished cutting my dark brown-hair for me. I wanted more of a modern style for the duration, different from how I usually wore it, which was all one length down to the tops of my shoulders in loose waves. I could’ve easily morphed it with magic myself and so could Edanai, but I know that she more so enjoyed the closeness of physically pampering me this way.

I had to admit; I did too.

             
She stepped back to admire her work after swiping a few cut strands from my shoulder with a big smile, her amethyst eyes sparkling like gems. “Damn Cam`ael, I didn’t think you could get any sexier even though I’m going to miss the hair,” She commented. “It won’t take long at all to grow back,” I assured her with a smirk.

“Yeah well regardless, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you weren’t going into the human world to sim
ply spy on shadows that are moving in and out of that new portal. They could care less what your hair looks like.” She then accused.

I gave a devious smirk,
“It’s all part of my strategy.” I told her.

             
She pursed her lips not believing me, “Right. If you weren’t taking Rahab, I’d argue you down until you changed your mind. There’s no telling what the limits of Morning Star will be especially now. I’ve heard recent things around here and in the human realm so you and Rahab had better be careful.” She pointed at me.

I smiled at her concern,
“We always are. Morning Star would be a fool to think anyone other than those he created or enticed are working solely with him. Are you saying I can’t handle this alone?” I said pretending to be affronted.

“No, not at all but it does have me concerned when he’s employed his top-ranking arch demons to assist, and they’re all banding together suddenly." She r
eplied.

“Don’t be concerned. When it all comes down to it, he needs me more than any other high-ranking arch demon in this realm. I’m the last one he wants to piss off or alienate, believe me,” I told her as I headed t
owards my sleeping chamber.

Yes, angels and demons slept or rested as we called it but it isn’t the same type of sleeping as mo
rtals do. It was a period of meditation and renewal.

She followed me, “I know that, but we need you too. You know what could end up happening if any of this spills over into the human world right now…” She trailed off.

“Give me a break, it already has. How many times has it spilled over throughout the millennia’s though? It’s been his own damned fault for not controlling his minions better, and since he won’t do it, I have to on my terms.” I cut her off as I flipped through some of my battle clothing in order to choose something to put on.