Harbinger in the Mist (Arms of Serendipity) (36 page)
I want to send a very special thank you out to Lorrie for not only believing in me and this story, but for the artistic touch she added to something that, up until now, had only been shared with a very select few.
Thank you, Lorrie! And never give up on Calvin’s Artistic Emporium.
Sneak Peek
One
Axum, Ethiopia † St. Mary’s of Zion Church
“Elion, thank you for coming so quickly. I shall have to commend Thamy for his adept tracking skills, for retrieving you so expeditiously.”
Eli bowed deeply. At first he had wondered why Thamy had appeared at Retreat House and held his sword in the air, blade point toward the heavens before disappearing. As a Harbinger, an elite warrior angel, Eli knew the move signified one thing – he was being summoned by their high commander. Apparently, Camael was under the assumption that Eli was preparing to leave his ranks without permission and that pained him.
He kept his emerald green eyes averted as he replied. “No, thank you, sir, for seeing me. I was surprised that you felt the need to send for me. You had to have known I would come to you first. I would never leave my post without – ”
Camael excused the monk with whom he kept constant watch over the cap of the great Ark of the Covenant. The monk was unaware that he sat beside a heavenly being in disguise day in and day out; he thought Camael was simply higher in rank and therefore left the chapel without question. When they were alone, Camael shook head slightly, confused, and wiped his long fingers across his ashen forehead, brushing his deep auburn hair out of his eyes.
“My dear, Elion, whatever are you talking about? I sent Thamy to you for help with an urgent matter. But before I get to that, please tell me that I heard you incorrectly with these slow, human ears. You are going to request a leave? You want to descend? Out of all of my Harbingers, you would be the last I would expect to make such a plea.”
“Yes, sir. I have met her, the one. Her name is Lindsey. And the draw is permanent.”
A mixture of emotions washed over Camael’s face, albeit it subtly. “I will go before Him for you, but you must be aware of the consequences of such an action. You do know, I assume, that such a decision is irreversible? If she changes her mind about the relationship, you cannot go back to the way things were.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You and I have both seen, Elion, descended angels perish from regret and sorrow after their love chooses another. We have seen them lose faith, to be lost forever.”
“I do not plan to be one of them sir. Nothing could make me lose my faith, not even the loss of my beloved.” Eli’s emerald green eyes shone with a confidence that was unquestionable.
“Well, if you are positive then,” Camael stood and raised his face toward the ceiling of the church; he closed his eyes. A soft, yellow glow emanated from him, growing brighter as he fell into trance. For several minutes, his human image shifted between solid and vapor. When, at last, his image solidified and the glowing ceased, Camael smiled sadly. “Elion, I have permission to grant you leave. But first, I do have a final mission for you. I need you, Elion, the most cunning of my Harbingers to take care of an urgent matter before you turn in your sword.”
Camael turned to the large, wooden altar that sat in the middle of the floor. The long, burgundy curtains that hung from the ceiling and normally obscured the view of the altar from the doorway had been pushed to the side. A golden slab lay atop the altar, glimmering in the low candle light. A single, gilded angel knelt on each end of the piece of gold-plated lid. Their heads were bowed in prayer and their wings arced in the air over their heads until their tips touched over the very center lid. It was the operculum of the great Ark of the Covenant.
“There has been a fleet of antediluvians attempting to attack the various areas in which the pieces of the great Ark have been placed. I want to keep this rebellion quiet, but I do need the other six areas checked and the guards at each aware. Choose your assistants wisely and press upon them the need for their silence as well. If this should get out, it could lead to an all-out war. As for the operculum, I need you to take it somewhere else, somewhere they’d never think to look. It’s the most important, the most powerful piece. Should they manage to gather the other six pieces, they cannot make it work without the cap.” Camael motion toward the gilded angels that sat atop the piece. “For without the powers of Zarall and Jael, the once living body of the Ark is nothing more than a plain old box of decaying wood. Can you take care of this for me?”
Before Eli could answer, a crash in the front of the church grabbed their attention. Two tall, olive skinned creatures flew into the consecrated area, their black, leathery wings sending dust and sand spiraling around the gilded operculum of the great Ark. As the grit began to settle on the wings of the golden angels atop it, Camael grabbed the piece and thrust it into Eli’s arms.
“Eli, take it and run! Remember my instructions. Keep it safe until we have squashed the rebellion. And remember, it cannot pass through the veil. It must stay here in the land of the living. Go now!”
Before the closer of the two creatures could reach out and grab him with a dark, taloned hand, Eli disappeared in a burst of mist. He could think of only one place to hide the operculum, a place so inconsequential that not one of the evil minions would think to look.
Within seconds he was standing in the dark tree line near the estuary of a place he knew all too well. He took human form before he could mark the place with angelic splash. Crickets and bullfrogs sang a nocturnal melody across the quiet waters. Low storm clouds had obscured the moon’s light but his eyes automatically drifted to the dark window on the second story of the house a few yards away. He knew she was in there, sleeping, oblivious to his return. He thought of the soft rhythm of her breathing as she lay dreaming, how wayward strands of her lush, brown hair would lay across her cheek, how her soft body had felt against his in the early morning hours not so long ago.
Before his will power faltered, Eli turned and entered the small shanty that sat under a large, mossy live oak to his left. Two hundred years ago, this place would already be a-buzz with activity. But today the little slave house sat in the deep recesses of the grounds, obscured from view by overgrowth as it and its twin where an embarrassing reminder of the history of the Marla Rae Retreat House. Everyone ignored this place. Not even a spirit from the past lurked in its corners. Yes, the cap would be safe in this place.
In a far back corner, he dug a hole in the sandy earth into which he nestled the sacred object. Having only a gardening spade as a tool, the task had taken longer than Eli would have liked. He could have snapped his fingers and forced the hardened dirt to give way, but it was paramount that he did it all in human form. Once the cap was covered with a small mound of earth, he topped it off with an old burlap rug and moss. Finally, he pushed a large antique writing desk over the resting spot. He wiped the sweat from his brow and stretched his aching back. Doing this in human form had been tedious, but it prevented any spiritual splash from being left behind. The Grigori wouldn’t be able to track the cap here.
Before he stepped through the doorway, Eli sent a silent blessing into the dark room. The only problem with hiding pieces of the Ark in the Land of the Living was that it acted like a magnet for the human soul. If a human ventured too close to the piece, they would feel a deep need to move near the area in which it was hidden. Some said it was like an angel’s whisper, calling to them and bringing clarity to issues that had been bothering them. Others said it was like an inner tug that brought them to their knees in reflection. His supplications should create enough of a barrier to prevent Lindsey or her mother, or anyone else that might visit Retreat House, from being pulled to this spot.
Eli exited the shack swiftly and, through a thick curtain of Spanish moss, afforded the house one more look of desire. His remembered the first time he stepped foot on this property. His commander had dispatched him to take care of a rip in the veil between the land of living and the Shadowlands. A spirit had been sucked through in the rip and it had been his job to find out the whys and how’s and to fix the problem before more spirits escaped. After assessing the damage on both sides of the veil, Eli had thought the job would be fairly straight forward. Then he saw her. Although Lindsey could not see him, he slinked back from her. He tried to ignore the tugging sensation, the desire to have her see him, to have her talk to him, … to have her touch him. From that moment, his being centered around protecting Lindsey from the angry entity that had taken to tormenting her.
He had obtained special permission to work in human form. And that, to use a tired human cliché, was all she wrote. He tried to fight the notion that he wouldn’t be able to leave when the job was done. But seeing her dance with another man at a party, feeling the jealousy and rage bubble up in his chest, resolved that. He pledged his love and devotion to her, promising that he would descend and they’d be together forever. Oh, she fought it for his sake; adamant that he not give up his immortality, his role as a warrior for the Creator. But it was a done deal.
At least it was until just a few hours ago when his audience before the high commander of the Harbingers turned from being an official request to descend to a mission to protect the Creator’s magnum opus from destruction. He sighed and, instead of approaching her resting place, he walked in the opposite direction and knelt by the water’s edge and rinsed the dirt and grime from his hands. He wanted to peek over his shoulders just one more time, but instead he splashed the cool water onto his dirt-streaked face.
Familiar scents of Jasmine, Magnolia, and briny waters stung his mind, releasing the venom of heart stopping memories. Oh, how he longed to turn and enter the big house! To grab her in his arms, pull her from her sleeping reveries… but he could not afford to lose focus. Soon, but not now. Before he could talk himself into staying, Eli disappeared into the cloudy, moonless night.
Copyright
Copyright © 2011 Anabell Martin
First Edition
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976 and the United Kingdom Copyright Act of 1956 and 1988. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental
Illustration by Claire Chilton
Edited by Eileen Gormley and Claire Chilton
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