Falter (35 page)

I ran through the crowd and into an alley. I leaned against the cold stone of the building behind me. A shiver snaked up my back. Gasping for oxygen, I fell to the ground. My body shook with uncontrollable sobs. The remorse I had for the soul that might have died in the street quickly turned into dread. The message given echoed off the walls of my head.
 

“
Save your precious father…one week, child.
”
 

Tired, weak, and emotionally defeated, I closed my eyes and whispered his name, the sound of it warming my lips.

“Archard.”
 

He was the only thing that could save me now. I couldn’t make this decision on my own. I was afraid I wouldn’t make the right one.

I lay, raw and broken, in the cold alley with tears pooling beneath me. Pieces of my soul were unraveling in the dark while insanity toyed with my conscience.
 

“Archard,” I whispered again, just before sleep and pure exhaustion carried me away.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The Big Guy Upstairs

The serenity of sleep sank into my bones, lulling my scrambled thoughts. Still and silent, I waited for a dream to begin. I waited patiently for my soul to escape to a happier place. Yet, the quiet sanctuary of my imagination stayed distant for some time.
 

Walking through the in-between of reality and sleep, I found bleakness at each step. Was I already dreaming? Had my brain overloaded so much that I couldn’t dream anymore? Or was this a sign of my failing conscience?
 

Echoes of my own voice answered when I called out. The claws of desperation and loneliness sunk into me. Moving farther into the bleak reverie, my unconscious body became light and airy—a mist floating through the dark.
 

The feeling that another presence was watching me from the vast, empty space sent a surge of unease through my nerves. Each breath became louder and faster, drumming in my ears so loudly that I barely heard the voice calling to me from a distance.
 

My vaporous hands reached for an anchor to hold me in place and keep me safe, but they only found more air. Then I propelled forward, tumbling in all directions.

“Relax, my dear,” someone gently urged.
 

Something about the entity brought instant calm. My heavy erratic breaths quieted, and I surrendered my need to know where I was going, allowing myself to be whisked away on the invisible current carrying me. It was peaceful—like floating on warm water in the middle of a hot summer night.
 

“Why are you so tense?”

I laughed. “With everything that’s happened, I’ve learned to be cautious all the time.”

“Do you not know me, child?” The question, I realized, had no tone and no pitch. It just…was. Voiceless words and loving emotions that swirled among my own thoughts. Each expression induced feelings of joy and empathy—emotions that morphed into conversation and nurtured my very soul.

“Why do you call me child?” My heart skipped, remembering that the demons had called me that.

“Because you are mine. Always will be.”
 

For some reason, I didn’t want to protest as I had when The Dark One called me child. “Who are you? The only father I’ve known now resides in Hell. No other father has been there.”
 

“I am truly sorry for what happened to George. He was a child of mine as well.” Sadness drifted into the atmosphere, then cleared like a wave riding the tide. “I am the one that gave you to him. I have been there far longer than he has. And will remain afterwards.” I sensed the presence’s smile, and it lifted my spirit.

“But he found me by himself,” I protested.

“No, Nevaeh, I was there. I brought him to you. I gave him a chance at redemption. He was given the chance to achieve greatness with his wasting life, and he has redeemed himself.” Another invisible smile softened the air.

“I don’t understand.” Just as the words passed my lips, murky visions of a drunken George appeared against the black backdrop and played as if they were on a movie projector. A bright white mass of light was holding him upright while he walked. George’s eyes were closed like he was sleepwalking. He stumbled around the jagged rocks under the dock, guided by the light which kept him standing.
 

“You are Him, aren’t you?” I whispered in amazement. It was strange to think I was talking to God. I’d barely acknowledged him even existing before, but now I couldn’t deny it. He was opening my eyes—and my heart.
 

“I am,” He answered, pleased that I understood. His love filled the air, cradling my troubled spirit.
 

I didn’t want to feel His love. I was angry at Him.
 

Why now? Why is He coming to me now?

“So you are God.” Fire burned beneath my words.

“I know that you are angry with me, child—“
 

“Don’t call me child,” I interjected, cutting into the tenderness working to calm me. “You may be the ‘Almighty’, but to me…” I hesitated. I couldn’t bring myself to say what I was really thinking. This wasn’t the deity I wanted. “You have left me alone! You gave them George. He’s being tortured, and his soul tossed around as a bargaining tool. Why didn’t you send Malach sooner?”
 

“Understand this—I have never left you alone. Whether you chose to acknowledge it or not, I have always been there for you…and for George. I have been beside you, as I am now.”

“Beside me now? Lurking in the dark ruins of my dreams?”

“I’m only in the dark because you put me there, Nevaeh.” His demeanor never showed any hint of anger. Just concern. Had I locked Him in the darkest parts of my soul? Or was it the hypothetical demon half of me that insisted on keeping Him hidden?

“Am I the Clavis?” I asked directly, pleading for an answer—for direction.

“It is too soon for you to know. I have things planned for you, for your world. Things have to fall into place at the right time. Like a puzzle, the big picture will be revealed when all the pieces are put together correctly.” A moment of silence passed before He spoke again. “I will remind you of one bit of information that you have forgotten. George was not your birth father, Nevaeh.”

“My real father died. How am I supposed to find someone who’s been dead for over twenty years?” Subtle amusement ebbed and flowed against me.
 

Is He laughing at me?

Answering me as soon as the thought occurred, he said, “Yes, I am laughing at you. I love your tenacity. It gives you character. As for your questions, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I have placed help in your path, but only according to your need. It will not be easy, but I’ll be with you, my child.” The last of His words seemed to drift away too soon.

“Wait, are you leaving?” I was angry, but I also felt a connection I never had with Him before. Surprisingly enough, I actually didn’t want Him to leave.

“Trust me…,” the words were barely audible, “I will always be by your side, Nevaeh. Whether you want me or not.” Whispers of His love trailed on the dying affirmation.

His presence vanished, and my vaporous body began sweeping backwards toward the physical plane it came from. I tried to enjoy the journey, but in the end, I knew I would have to confront my dreaded reality again.

The loud babbling of people rushing by the alley assaulted my ears. I drew in a deep breath, and my nose filled with the honeyed scent I could recognize anywhere; I knew that Archard was near. His enticing aroma overwhelmed my senses with love and protection. I could feel the heat of his aqua eyes staring at me.
 

“You came.” A grateful smile tugged at my lips as I lay on the cement with my eyes still closed. I couldn’t look at him. My strength would fail me in the presence of his beauty. “I need to talk to you.” I waited, but no response followed. “Are you my Guardian?”
 

In an instant, his scent dissipated. My eyes shot open, searching the alley as I rose from the dirty ground. No trace of my angel lingered. I was alone—my heart shredding, again, from Archard’s abandonment.
 

Hobbling onto the busy sidewalk, I dodged people laughing at funny jokes, lovers holding hands, and determined individuals shifting eagerly around those in their way. I headed toward the library, assessing my life and all that it had become. I acknowledged how different it would be from now on, even if I continued to be neutral and live my life pretending nothing had happened.
 

I could never have a simple love, or an ordinary career. I’ll never know what it’s like to go to my nine to five in the morning, come home to a house full of kids at night, and repeat the day over and over again until I die at a peaceful, old age. The whispers of demons and angels would always haunt me. I understood that now. Look at all that had taken place so far, and in such a short time. They would yank at my spirit, begging me to take their side. The guilt of refusing a responsibility that was ingrained within me would eat at my conscience.
 

It was my duty to help fight for those who stand strong in their faith, as well as the souls that falter like mine. Even if I don’t have the power Malach claims I have, even if I’m not The Clavis he and Gavyn seem to think I am, I
am
a Celata. There is no doubt now, with all that I’ve seen, that I am different.
 

The question remains, though, was I different for the right reasons? Am I meant to fight for the virtuous things in this life, and in the afterlife? Or will the inherent evil in my soul overpower what I think is right?
 

The sweet darkness that called to me in the portal had latched onto my heart like a cancer deteriorating what virtue I was born with. Regardless of which way I chose, there’s definitely no going back to the humble life of living on the streets.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY

Book-Keeping Is Hard Work

I shouldered into the heavy door and entered the library. Everything was quiet. I inhaled the odor of old books that had soaked into the walls and the orange carpet from 1970 and smiled. Even though the building had a rather large, open, double-level foyer, cozy memories of the hours I spent there made the walls feel close and comforting. I walked to the dingy, Formica covered counter and leaned my back against it, inspecting the empty library while I waited for a staff member to help me.

“Oh, sweet Nevaeh!” a high-pitched voice chimed from my right. Margie, the librarian, rushed toward me with a stack of books in her arms. She hoisted the heavy pile onto the counter and greeted me with open arms.
 

“Hey,” I said, bending over to hug the petite lady in return. It had been a while since I saw her. The aging lines of her face creased a little deeper, her hair shimmered with a tad more gray. We chatted about the usual conversational topics: the weather, her grandchildren, and her husband. I couldn’t tell her anything about my new life, but there was a welcome sense of normalcy in pretending all was well. I missed the ordinary interaction—as ordinary as I’d ever had anyway.

“So, what are you looking for, missy?” she asked, trying to control the shake in her elderly vocals.
 

“Well, I’m looking for books about angels and demons.” I expected her to ask why and attempted to think of ways to get around explaining the details.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, slightly surprised. “You know, I saw an angel once.” Margie smiled, wagging a crooked finger at me, and ushered me down the tight aisles of books.

“Really?” I asked, skimming my eyes over the hundreds of titles we passed as I followed her. I don’t know why, but my first thought was the usual reaction when someone says they’ve seen something supernatural.
Yeah, right
. Then I felt bad. Who am I to say that she hadn’t seen one? I’ve seen them, why couldn’t she?

“Yep. It was long ago, but as sure as I’m breathing, it was there.” She turned between two tall, overlooked bookcases at the back of the library and stopped midway down the aisle. “Right here, actually. Funny, huh?” Margie exhaled a giggle as she seemed to recall the experience.

“Funny?” Before she answered, I scanned the books she’d led me to and realized what she meant. Decaying leather peeled away from the binding of books centuries older than the librarian herself. I read the imprinted spines while taking in the intriguing fragrance of eras long ago. Lettering in golden, ancient script spelled out things like “Angelus”, “Demonic Possessions”, and “Heavenly Wars on Earth.” Yeah, it was somewhat comical that an angel showed up in the section of books about angels. “Margie, what did it say to you?”