Society Rules (57 page)

These quickly slipped under now as well, and one by one, the Shadows plunged into the earth where Cassandra had vanished, their screams and howls’ becoming fainter until finally, all was silent.

The ground where she had disappeared was no longer shimmering black. The grass had returned, although there was a circular area in that particular location, that seemed to have a scorched appearance.

The silence was almost tangible, hanging heavily in the air after the unbelievable sounds that had just been raging through the air.

Nick was the first to move, clearing his throat to speak, or at least give it a try. He couldn’t comprehend why law enforcement officers had not converged upon the clearing, for surely people had heard the gunshots and the screams as well as the other ungodly sounds that had ripped through the air.

No one had reported this?

“I, uh . . . think it would be great if someone wanted to explain to me what just happened here,” he began uncertainly. All heads turned in Nick’s direction, although no one was ready to speak yet.

The old man finally answered.

“Officer Brocatto, I think we should take a walk, and I will enlighten you to the best of your ability to comprehend.” The older gentleman placed his hand on Nick’s shoulder as he spoke.

Indie awoke from her stunned horror with a jolt, and reached with a sob to gather her children to her. Cassidy left Nick’s side and threw herself into her mother’s arms.

Indie hugged her tightly, and then looked over her head to find her son. She looked all around, in between the lanky limbs of Nick, and behind the softly draped garments of the old man. It became very clear in the span of less than ten seconds.

The indisputable fact was, Jake was gone.

Chapter 36

Being dead was not so bad, Will decided.

It didn’t hurt. He wasn’t hot.

Or cold.

Like the baby bear’s bed, it felt just right. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure that he was all the way dead yet, but he knew that he had a good running start.

The only thing that tugged on him in a most irritating fashion, was a nagging feeling that he had left something undone. Something very important, although he could not imagine right now, what that very important thing could be.

Will was seeing what appeared to be a bright white empty screen. He remembered terrible pain, and a sense of impatience at how long it was taking him to actually die, while he was alone in the truck. Something had happened to pull away the support he was leaning on, and then . . . he remembered Indie.

Comfort and love.

Who would have believed that he would be given the opportunity to apologize? Apologize and say goodbye.

There was a distinct feeling, for a moment, where Will felt better, somehow; as if, when he pulled in his breath, oxygen actually followed. But it was a brief sensation.

He could not move or speak now, and felt nothing of his body. It was like he’d become just a brain, endlessly pondering life outside the jar in which it was housed.

His mind journeyed back to the day he’d met his wife.

Strange. He had never reminisced before about such things.

Then, the first time he’d held his newborn babies.

So alert, even at birth. Will remembered all of the nurses commenting on this. They were reaching and grasping for fingers, able to track faces, eyes wide and knowing.

Short flashes of his career popped through his mind, as if in a slideshow set at an impossible speed.

Then, he had been lifted and carried in what he had determined must be the arms of an angel. Strong arms, but ever so gentle, supporting him as they made their way up.

Thank God, it was up!

He felt sure of this, although he had no point of reference. What were those vague cracking sounds, though? They did not seem to belong. Neither did the other sounds.

Voices screaming, but as if in a vacuum. Muffled and faint.

Shouldn’t he be concerned? He wasn’t sure that he would be able to force his mind to react with any kind of fear or stress. Everything was just so calming. Even the screams became soothing.

As Will continued to float upwards, he felt the angel remove her arms. He wondered idly if he would fall, but was not afraid. She would surely not let him drop.

He wasn’t surprised when he continued on his upward swing.

He could even feel a breeze gently stroking his face, but noticed that he could not feel any movement, like hair stirring.

So odd.

“Don’t
worry,
Will
 . . .
she’s
okay!”
A familiar voice danced past him, as he was slowly rising.

He could not image who this could be, but the voice sounded jubilant. It was also, most definitely male. He didn’t understand it just now, but somehow, the words that wisped past Will, filled him with the most incredible sense of relief.

The annoying, nagging feeling of unfinished business appeared to have joined that voice as it had flowed past, taking away the last of the strings that Will suddenly realized were binding him here.

He felt a surge of power as his ascent became much faster now, steady and swift. As Will reached the pinnacle of his journey, he was met with a brilliant feeling of light, calm and joy. He found that he had arms now, although he could feel no other body part. Those arms now rose of their own accord, like a toddler asking to be lifted by his father.

“Daddy!”

For a moment, Will though he had spoken aloud.

“Daddy,
stop!
We
need
you!”

These words did not come from him.

Will was confused. He wanted to keep moving forward, but this voice was causing him pain, and slowing his progress. He didn’t want to feel the pain anymore.

Determinedly, Will pressed ahead, feeling very close to his goal. Just a little further.

“Daddy,
NO!”
The voice commanded him back. There was no alternative offered.

He felt himself yanked backwards roughly; a disorienting drag through mist and light, only on some sort of crazy inside-out trip through time and space.

Will didn’t like this.

He was beginning to feel a pinpoint of heat; a burning sensation dead center in his chest. No. Not the pain.

Not again. He didn’t think he could take it.

Will struggled to free himself from whatever had caught hold of him and was pulling him the wrong way, but it was no use. He felt himself falling now, as if from a great height. When he reached the bottom, it was not going to be pretty.

Will could feel limbs beginning to re-form, and he flailed clumsily now as he gained speed. The pain in his chest intensified, burning, searing and suffocating.

Finally, with what should have been a tooth-shattering jolt, Will found himself in a reclining position, wrapped tightly in a familiar thick fabric.

The pain was insufferable.

And then it was gone. A little child was crying. It sounded very close.

What’s
wrong?
Will wondered, sleepily. He still wasn’t breathing.

“Daddy, I thought you weren’t coming back!” The voice was sobbing. Will’s eyes snapped open, and he focused on the face in front of him. Jake’s tiny hands were clutched together, resting on Will’s chest as if caught in the middle of his bedtime prayers. His eyes were red and damp.

A blast of air was forced deep into Will’s lungs by an unseen entity, causing him to sit abruptly and violently upright. He grabbed the little boy, and pulled him into a feverish embrace that might have cracked the bones of a less sturdy child.

A sob broke loose from his throat, and he let it. He felt that he would never be able to cry long enough, or hard enough to release the overwhelming emotions that he had suffered in these few short days.

After several minutes of self-indulgent bawling, he pushed Jake back and ran his hands around the boy’s face before asking breathlessly, his voice still unsteady.

“Your sister?” Jake nodded his head, conveying that she too was okay. Will sagged with relief, tears leaking once more.

“How about your mother? Is she . . . ?”

“She’s okay too, Daddy.”

“And . . . the man,” Will swallowed hard. “Jackson? He’s okay as well?”

“If Mommy’s okay, then you know he is okay.” Jake spoke with confidence.

Will winced at the words, but then sighed in resignation. True enough, he supposed. “So,” he grabbed his son tightly again. “Everyone is okay, then? It’s all over?”

“Yes, Daddy . . . except . . . .” Jake spoke doubtfully.

“What is it?”

“I . . . I think I might be in trouble . . . .” Jake’s voice trailed to a whisper.

“I did something that I wasn’t s’posed to do.” His lip quivered, but then he spoke with defiance, and a hint of temper that Will had never before witnessed in his child. Not in either of them.

“But I don’t care! I don’t care what they do to me. I would do it again and again, if I had to!” His little voice trembled with emotion.

“Son, nothing bad is going to happen to you, I’m sure.” Will was confused. “What are you afraid of?” Jake looked distant for a moment, and then looked at his father, and gave him a shy smile.

“Nothing, Daddy. But can you walk?”

Walk? Will stretched his arms, and then alternately each leg. He suddenly felt ready to take on a twelve-mile road march.

With a fully loaded rucksack at that. He also felt, unbelievable as it seemed, ravenously hungry.

“Yeah, son,” Will laughed at the boy. “I think I can walk! Let’s get out of this truck. I need to see your sister and your mom!” He threw back the sleeping bag that held him, struggling to kick himself free, and then shoved open the door.

The air smelled wonderful; fresh and clean, with a lovely breeze suddenly picking up and cooling him.

The heat seemed to have lessened to a more normal level. It was good to be alive. Why did he not feel this every day, he wondered.

He lifted his son into his arms, turned and walked toward the clearing, pausing as he noted the people present.

Nick, Indie and Jackson, Cassidy, and a stranger. An older man he did not know. Every one of these people were staring at him with a variety of different expressions of their faces.

Relief. Disbelief.

Cautious goodwill, and finally, on the face of his daughter, joy, as she shouted his name. The older man wore an expression of affection, tolerant amusement and resignation. Will suddenly found himself suffering from something resembling stage fright, uncomfortable to find himself the center of attention.

He looked at Jake, and took a deep breath. “Alright, son?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Jake smiled. “I think it is!” And so they made their way through the weeds and brush to join the waiting crowd.

Chapter 37

The gift, tho’ it’s given

The war is not won

The call you hear next

Like a shot from a gun

Will lead you to triumph

A path full of glory

You must answer the call

To seek the end of your story

Katherine Whitley

After mere seconds of stunned silence, Indie slowly raised her head until she met the eyes of Jax. Then back again to Will. Could she see ghosts? Was that another one of the “gifts” that seemed to be surfacing slowly as the day wore on?

She had better not be seeing ghosts, because if so, that ghost was holding her son and that would mean things that she had no intention of accepting.

But no. Their heartbeats were solid and strong.

Both of them.

How was this possible? Will had been dead enough to go ahead and call off the code, had he been in an ER. That was no mistake. Yet, there he stood!

“Indie . . .” Jackson was hesitant, unsure himself why her husband was standing at the edge of the clearing right now, decidedly alive and kicking. He had clearly seen her thoughts on his condition, but as the thought dawned upon him . . . he sucked in his breath.

He understood now. It was the boy.

A boy who obviously possessed one hell of a gift.

“Your children. Cassidy and Jake . . . they are part of the Society,” he began. “But not just any Members. They are even more . . . special.”

The older man stepped toward Indie, as Jackson gently took her hand.

“What my good Brother is trying to tell you, is that you have born a perfect pair of Society Members,
Equals
together, and they are the Children of the Seraphim . . . or to be more specific, myself.” He bowed to Indie as he said this.

“I am the
Paterfamilias
.
I
am the Seraphim sent to this earth eons before to, metaphorically speaking, toss a handful of seeds to the wind just to see what grows. These children are among the very few results of that little adventure.”

The man looked over at Will and Jake, smiling tenderly, but with the faintest trace of exasperation.

“Jake has the gift to summon one back from the threshold of death, if he reaches them before contact is made with the light.”

Indie, without taking her eyes off Will and Jake, took in the man’s words, and heard Jax’s unspoken acknowledgement.

“Cassidy has also demonstrated her gifts today here as well . . . creating a bubble of sorts, containing the sounds and events into a vacuum, preventing innocents from accidentally becoming involved.” The Elder continued. “She communes with the beasts of the Earth, and they obey . . . objects move by her will. Yes, I will be very interested to watch her progress as she becomes properly schooled. In addition, the gift of invisibility is strong around these children, as well as yourself. Most impressive!”

Indie was awestricken by these revelations from the Elder. Her children. So small.

So innocent . . . . . So powerful.

She could hear nothing from the mind of the older man, only his words, although she understood that if this man was a Seraph . . . an
Elder
, of course, he would be powerful enough to shut her out.

But really? Her children?

“My son . . .” the Elder began. “And here I must interrupt myself, for I do not wish to diminish your role in bringing them into existence. Yours as well as William’s.” He touched Jackson’s arm as he said this, as if to soften the blow that these words carried to him.

“But Jake
is
my son, and,” the Elder sighed with the same expression of tolerant and affectionate bemusement that he wore earlier, “as such, has chosen to exercise his number one privilege. We talk about many things that are some of the most important rules set forth by the Creator for Society, but the rule that tops the list, and trumps all others, is the right of free will.”

He smiled widely.

“The Creator gives each and every living thing, both human and otherwise, a brain, and the right to use it as they see best. The consequence of our choices becomes the continuously changing landscape of our futures, with each future touching many others.

“Jake has made his choice, and so it shall stand. We shall find out the implications of his choice to alter the course of nature in due time, I expect. But for now, I imagine you should go to him . . . our daughter has already taken that liberty!”

The Elder nodded in the direction of Cassidy, her blond head bobbing as she flew toward the clearing’s edge.

Jackson turned Indie to face him, and pulled her face up to his. She saw a touch of pain in his beautiful eyes; the eyes that saved her life, and she wanted to weep.

But he shook his head.

“Go see Will. It’s right that you care for him.” He smiled and looked past her at Will, who was now busy fending off the energetic attacks of affection from both of his children.

“Remember your promise to me, Indie.” Indie felt hypnotized by his voice. Just how could anyone resist his spoken word? “Besides, it looks like he might need help! I think the children are quite happy to see him.”

Indie leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I know that you realize you have nothing to fear, right?”

Jackson shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground first, then back to her face.

“
Right
?” She gave him a little shake.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a nanosecond, then smiled again, and nodded his head a little. “Yes, of course. I’m fine with it . . . go!” Indie turned and ran towards Will, who had just managed to peel the happy children off his chest as she reached him.

He stunned Indie by grabbing her, encircling his arms around her and sweeping her into a backwards dip, before planting an old Hollywood-style kiss on her mouth.

She gasped and began to struggle, but found herself laughing.

Will had certainly never done anything like that before, and especially with this level of enthusiasm. Keeping his face down to look at Indie, Will grinned impishly. “Is he watching?”

“Of course he is!” Indie scolded. “What are you trying to do to him?” She felt Jax’s fists clench in his pockets, but without looking, knew that his face was outwardly calm.

“I just thought I would give him a little jolt. It’s not so much, really, considering what he’s taking from me.” The smile faded from Will’s face, and his eyes were serious now. “It’s so unfair really, that I had to actually lose you in order to find you.”

He looked at her now with eyes that sought to commit her face to memory. “I guess you had me at goodbye,” he joked pathetically.

He brought a finger to Indie’s lips so he could finish without interruption. “I just want to say thank you for everything you’ve ever done for me . . . and—” his voice cracked a little, “—and to say goodbye to you with something I should have been doing for you every day. I guess this was my last chance.

“Besides,” he lifted his head and looked back at Jackson, who was staring levelly back at him. “It just felt damn good!”

Indie extracted herself from his arms, and took his hand. “I told you that it was never your fault. We are focusing on the here and now.” She pulled him around to look at her fully.

Her lips began to tremble.

“Oh my God Will, I knew you were gone. I was watching you
die
. It was unbearable. But Jake brought you back. Our children . . . both of them are . . . what I am, only . . . .”

“I know, Indie. Baker told me.” He shook his head exasperated. “Although how I didn’t know about them, or
you
, still blows my mind. I must be blind. Or stupid. Both, maybe. I don’t know, but . . . .”

Will stopped. Indie was looking at him with the “
I’ve
got
some
bad
news
” expression etched across her striking features.

He looked all around, and it began to dawn on him that there was no Cassandra . . . and no Baker. He vaguely remembered the sharp snaps of sound he had heard at some point earlier. His memory was unclear.

Gunshots?

“Where . . . what happened? Is he . . . are they tied up somewhere, or . . . ?”

“They aren’t tied up, Will.” Indie whispered with a tug on Will’s hand. “Come on. I need the others around me when I tell you what took place here.”

After a long look at Indie, a sickness began to spread through Will’s belly. Something was pulling at his memory, like a dream awakening.

Words.

Wispy, floating words moved around him, and then away.

“Don’t worry, Will!” The tone had been triumphant. Joyful, even. And very familiar.

Baker?

Will’s brain hurt as he strained to hear the memory again. Where had he heard this? Very recently he was positive, and it had seemed to make him, well, almost happy in his memory. Now, the words filled him with dread.

“He’s dead, isn’t he? Baker is dead.” Will’s voice was flat and hollow. The scant contents of his belly rolled, and began to climb it’s way up to his neck.

Unfathomable as it was, the death of the man that he was so ready to kill if he had too, was sickening him.

Baker had been turned, Will was sure of it. He had felt the goodness surge from him at some point, although he wasn’t clear where this had taken place, exactly.

Indie pulled him along toward the others. Numbly he followed, the children at his side.

Jackson and the Elder observed the approach of the four in outward silence. Inwardly, Jackson was fighting to kill the disgust with himself, which was rising fast along with another emotion that he could not understand.

Not an emotion, really.

Yeah, this was more of a desire.

The irrational desire to rip Indie away from Will, and maybe just bounce Will’s head around on the ground. Just a little.

Nothing that would hurt him. Not too badly, anyway.

He heard a low chuckle behind him, and realized with horror that the Elder had, of course, heard his shameful inner dialog.

No,
Elder
 . . .
I
truly
do
not
wish
the
man
ill
will.
I
don’t
know
what
is
wrong
with
my
thoughts.
A strong hand grasped Jackson’s shoulder, and spun him around to face away from the approaching family.

“So, are you a fighter or what, my Brother? Do you chastise yourself for feeling the discomfort of another male kissing your
Equal
? A male who loves her as well? They share a bond and a history that will not go away. You must allow yourself to understand that these emotions are quite . . . rational.”

The old man spoke so kindly, so sensibly, that it brought a lump to Jackson’s throat. It hit him hard that he was not only in the presence of an Elder, but also in the presence of
THE
Elder . . . the chosen one above all, and that this Elder was speaking directly to him.

Giving him his words of wisdom that in the past, with the exception of the Commitment, he had heard only in his head at the Sacred places.

Perhaps he should listen, he thought with an ironic laugh to himself.

“It is only my humble opinion, but . . . perhaps you should!” spoke the Elder, eyes twinkling. “Allow yourself to be a man, and feel what a man will feel. You were right before. You are no angel! However, the angelic genetics that flow through you are not of the pious nature, but that of the Archangels . . . the warriors.

“One of the failings of Society teachings has been the tendency to educate toward a response appropriate to the Virtues, with their kindness and endless patience, but this, I know, is asking a lot. Therefore, you struggle with your fighting nature, and feel unworthy when . . . shall we say,
less
than
gentle
feelings surface.” The Elder’s hand dropped and he held his stick with both hands.