Phoebe Wren and the Vortex of Light (16 page)

The next few hours seemed to last for an eternity as Phoebe and Demetrius finalised their packing and tried to concoct other ways to fill the time until they would meet with the angels again. They stayed at Demetrius’s house, mainly because Phoebe didn’t relish the thought of going home to an empty house, but also because Demetrius wanted to spend any time he had with his Uncle Esau, Aunt Martha and his young cousins, Bessie, Jacob and Grace.

Martha had insisted on making the teenagers a final ‘farewell lunch’, and although neither Phoebe nor Demetrius felt like eating, they didn’t want to raise any suspicions or appear ungrateful, and accepted Martha’s offer gratefully. As the family sat down to eat, Demetrius was struck anew with just how well he had been looked after by the Otonnos, and knew that he owed them all a debt of gratitude. He loved the family with a fierce loyalty, yet he knew without doubt that his future – whatever that held – was in Ireland with the Wrens.

“Dem?” Seven year old Bessie was peering across the table at Demetrius, her enormous brown eyes regarding him inquisitively.

“Yes Bessie?”

“Dem, why do you have to go to Ireland? Jacob and Grace and I are gonna miss you. Can’t you stay here? You can share our toys, I promise.”

The childish innocence of Bessie’s questions tugged at Demetrius’s heartstrings and his answers caught in his throat before he could verbalise them. Phoebe stopped eating her lunch and looked up at him; she could see that Demetrius was struggling hard with his emotions, and she could easily have cried for him. After a long moment, Demetrius swallowed hard and answered his little cousin.

“Bessie,” he said gently, “I love living here with you and Jakey and Gracie. You guys have been so very kind to me, and always shared all your stuff with me. But now…” Demetrius choked on his words as his brown eyes blurred with tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. “Well, now I have to go with Phoebe. I think that we have work to do in Ireland. I think that this is where Abba wants me to go, and we need to do what Abba wants us to do, right?”

“Right,” declared Bessie, her naive smile lighting up her pretty face. “Mamma says Abba always knows what’s best for us, and if we trust Him, then He won’t let us down.” She smiled at Demetrius, obviously satisfied by his answer, and in her childish words Demetrius found solace and an assurance that he was doing the right thing.
‘Funny how Abba makes Himself heard,’
he mused, and smiled at the three little children across the table who had returned undeterred to their childish chatter. ‘
Everything is so simple when you’re young
,’ Demetrius thought, and it reminded him that that was why keeping a childlike faith had always been important to him.

“You are doing the right thing, Dem,” Martha smiled kindly at her nephew. She could scarcely believe that the tall, strong young man sitting across the table from her was the same skinny kid she had taken in ten years ago. Her sister would be proud of Demetrius, Martha had no doubt about that. “You’ve got to go where your future is, and if Abba wants you in Ireland, then He must have a reason.”

“Thanks Aunt Martha, I appreciate your support so much. I owe you and Esau my life.”

“We are very proud of you, Dem,” said Esau. “As your parents would be. We wish you nothing but the best for you. You know that, right?”

“I do,” answered Dem, his voice shaking with emotion. Phoebe wanted to grab him and hug him and tell him everything would be alright, but she restrained herself and opted for a dignified silence over an outpouring of emotion.

“Now,” said Martha. “Let’s have dessert, then you and Phoebe can get back to packing.”

“Dessert!” squealed four year old Jacob, who was not used to such pleasant surprises. This was not an everyday occurrence for the Otonno children, and they tucked hungrily into the milk tart that their mother set in front of them, making Phoebe giggle at the sight.

After lunch was finished, Phoebe helped Martha tidy the table and wash up, then she found Demetrius again, and the teenagers left the house.

“We’ll be back soon, Uncle Esau,” called Demetrius as the screen door clicked shut behind them.

Phoebe and Demetrius walked a short distance to a small copse of Baobab trees, until they were just out of sight of the house, and sat down together on the dusty ground. Phoebe was glad of the shade afforded by the trees as the midday sun was intense. She recalled Cosain’s words from earlier that day –
‘Schnither will have sentries posted’
– and she wondered just how many pairs of squinty demonic eyes were watching her and Demetrius right now, and how long the ghouls had been spying on them. Phoebe dared not look around as she remembered Cosain’s warning –
‘it is imperative that we do not arouse suspicion amongst the powers of darkness’
. Phoebe’s heart thudded in her chest, and she tried desperately not to think too much on what the next forty eight hours held, although that was almost impossible. She was acutely aware of a sensation of being watched, although she could not say for sure whether this had been caused by her own paranoia, and she wondered if Demetrius shared her agitation. She looked at Dem, who was leaning back against a tree, eyes closed, obviously just enjoying the moment and the warmth of the sun, and wished that she could be as laid back as he appeared to be.

“Calm down, Phoebe,”
she chided herself.
“Everything is as it should be, it’ll all be okay, just relax.”

Little did Phoebe realise that she had been right to be on her guard, and her paranoia was in fact merited. Above the teenagers in the Baobab trees, four orange eyes glinted through the branches. Unnoticed by Phoebe or Demetrius, malevolent twins Braygor and Graygor had followed the teenagers to this meeting point, and were hiding and awaiting the arrival of the Heavenly host. The diminutive little fiends could scarcely conceal their mirth, and they hissed and spluttered their laughter through clenched teeth, gnarly hands cupped over their mouth like naughty children.

“So close,” wheezed Braygor, “Brother, we are
so close!
” And he twisted his knotted fingers together like writhing, slithering eels.

“
SHHH!
” hissed Graygor, slapping his twin around the back of his head so hard that he almost knocked him out of the tree. “Do you want them to
hear
us? We must complete this mission without
any
hiccups! You know what Schnither said…”

The warning seemed to have the desired effect, and Braygor settled huffily back on to his branch without further ado.

“Those do-good angels will be here any minute now, and we cannot risk them seeing us. Once they and the humans bid their farewells, Phoebe Wren and her little clan will be all
mine
… uh, ours!” Graygor covered over his sleight of tongue without Braygor taking exception to his words, but in his black little heart he knew that he had no intention of sharing the glory of bringing about the Wrens’ demise with his extraneous buffoon of a brother.

Phoebe and Demetrius did not have to wait or wonder for much longer, as Cosain, Solas, Dilis, Trean, Neam, Croga and Lasair materialised inaudibly beneath the trees.

“Good afternoon Phoebe, Demetrius,” smiled Cosain, as Demetrius scrambled to his feet, then gave Phoebe his hand and helped her up too.

“Hello, Cosain. Hello, uh…
gentlemen
?” Demetrius was obviously unsure of how to address a group of angels, having never had cause to do so before, and his faltering uncertainty caused him to chuckle and scratch his head nervously. Phoebe had assumed that Dem was taking everything in his stride, but this awkward exchange made her realise that he was probably every bit as bewildered as she was.

“Hey guys,” Phoebe interjected. “What news?”

“Phoebe, you have been on an incredible journey these last few weeks. I know that you have experienced things that…well, things that may have been difficult for you to comprehend. You have been very brave and obedient, and tomorrow you and your family and Demetrius will return home to Ireland, where I know the Atoner will have big plans for you. Your destiny as a Light Bringer is a lofty one but I have every confidence that you will be able to achieve it.”

In the boughs above, Braygor’s glee had once again bubbled to the surface, and he practically pirouetted along the branch. “Oh we have them, Graygor, we
have
them! Those idiot angels think their job is done! Ahh. How
tragic
to be so close and yet so far from completing their mission!” Braygor was frothing at the mouth, and Graygor rolled his eyes in disgust, thanking his lucky stars that
he
was not as ridiculously immature as his nonsensical twin.

On the ground below, Phoebe was aware of the commotion in the trees, and realised quickly that the hellish sentries were indeed on patrol. ‘
Don’t look up, do not look up
,’ she coaxed herself. Croga had obviously noticed too, as his hand clasped the hilt of his sword tighter – an almost imperceptible move, but one which Phoebe observed nonetheless. The realisation that the enemy was only a matter of feet above them made Phoebe shiver, but she settled herself in the knowledge that they would not attack now because they too had a plan to execute.

“So,” Cosain continued in a clear and firm voice. If he was aware of the presence of evil – and Phoebe was certain that he was – he never once raised his eyes towards the tree-tops. “The time has come for us to relinquish our duties and return to the Celestial City. The Atoner awaits our report and our homecoming.”

Cosain smiled kindly at Phoebe, and if he was apprehensive or uneasy, his countenance certainly did not give him away. If anything, Cosain’s eyes seemed to glow with a calm assurance and authority, and Phoebe found herself once again drawn back to… well,
today
, but first time round, when she came to amidst the carnage and havoc of the crash site and was aware that she was safe and protected. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, then swallowed hard before she spoke.

“Thank you, all of you. You are right, Cosain, it has been a very strange few weeks indeed, but with your help I have survived! I am eternally indebted to you all, and I will make sure that whatever plans the Atoner has for me, I will carry them out to the best of my ability.”

She paused, smiling at the seven angelic warriors who stood, dwarfing her with their imposing stature, and yet whose faces were the kindest and gentlest she had ever seen. Phoebe knew that the swordsmen before her were fearsome in battle, and she had witnessed their might with her own eyes, but she knew too their unwavering loyalty and compassion, and was truly grateful to the Heavenly brothers for their care for her and her family.

“Goodbye, Phoebe Wren. And may the Atoner bless you,” said Cosain softly, and he smiled as Phoebe burst forward and hugged him tightly. Phoebe embraced Solas, Dilis, Trean, Neam, Croga and Lasair in turn, as Demetrius shook hands with each of the angelic warriors, and although she could not be sure, Phoebe thought that she could see tears in the clear blue eyes of Trean.

“I will miss you all,” said Phoebe, and she realised that, although this farewell was in fact only a decoy, there would probably come a day when she would have to bid her angelic guardians goodbye for real.

“Come brothers,” said Cosain. “The Atoner awaits our return.”

Then, with a dignified salute, the Heavenly host spread their mighty wings and took to the air en masse, and were out of sight in a millisecond leaving Phoebe and Demetrius feeling rather deflated under the Baobab trees.

“That’s it! It’s all over! What happens next is a foregone conclusion!” squealed Braygor as he watched the Heavenly Host disappear. Graygor, the more cautious of the two, waited several minutes just to be sure that Cosain and his cronies weren’t trying to dupe him before he too declared, “How easily they were despatched! Now those sickeningly wholesome teenagers and their clueless parents have been left to their own devices – without the cushioning of the Atoner’s hedge of winged heroes around them, they will be easy prey. He has slipped up this time!”

Braygor was so sure of hellish victory that he could wait no longer and shot out of the tree like an overgrown bat, leaving a trail of dark vapours in his wake, and Graygor chugging along behind him in a desperate effort to keep pace.

“Wait, brother!
WAIT!
” screeched Graygor, infuriated that his brother would leave without him and entirely outraged that he had been clever enough to take flight
before
him.

“Just
move it
, Graygor! We have much to tell Captain Schnither!” hissed back Braygor, his little leathery black wings flapping furiously as he raced to be the first to break the good news.