The Forsaken (6 page)

Meredith leaned in, allowing Izzy to hug her. Both in tears, Izzy finally released her friend, who had suffered like her with the exile. They all had suffered—and would continue to—until the Mistress declared they had served their penance. Abandoning them was not an option. She’d rather cut out her heart than sacrifice them to live on Earth alone without her. Killing a demon was a hundred times easier than dealing with the onslaught of emotions she’d experienced today, and once again, Nathanael was at fault.

Why did he have to find us? Find me?

In her heart, Izzy knew the answer. Without her, he couldn’t ascend. What he wanted condemned her. A Seraphim did not account for her wishes. She was Cherub a female brought up to please him in all aspects, to never question his authority and to keep his heavenly house pure and serene. Nothing about her at the moment, including Izzy’s thoughts, was pure. She’d rather sharpen knives than keep his house clean.

Chapter Four

Nathanael didn’t go back to the Seraphim safe house. His heart felt heavy, his soul ached, and his mind had a dozen questions circling over and over again. The intensity of what he’d discovered tonight left him feeling more than dazed. A part of him was questioning all he’d been taught, all he knew. And it was all Isabella’s fault. That, he didn’t like. He walked to the only place he could think of: a nearby synagogue. Saturday night, the beginnings of holy night. Late into the evening, almost midnight, he thought it to be empty…until a door opened and a hand waved him inside.

“Can I help you, son?”

The gruff voice was filled with caring. Nat took the offered invitation, needing to cleanse his emotions. He searched within himself for that steel-honed Seraphim balance he’d been taught and found himself lacking.

“Thank you.” He stepped through the door, feeling the wide space of the synagogue stretch before him. His gaze moved lovingly to the large eight-foot-high wooden
heichal
, the Torah ark, looking like an exact copy of the one in the Seraphim Prayer house. He blinked twice, wondering if this was a sign.

“You look like you’ve lost your best friend, if you don’t mind my observation,” said the rabbi.

“Something like that,” mumbled Nat.

Dressed in traditional dark robes and wearing what humans called a
kippah
—a small white head covering—the rabbi looked quite old. His gray beard reached his chest and wrinkles marred his face, making him seem kind and thoughtful. Nat didn’t understand the dress code, but this wasn’t his culture. Seraphim angels most certainly did not cover their heads when praying to the Almighty. Their prayer robes were white, not dark in color, and underneath their robes angels wore nothing. Purity of mind and body to help cleanse the soul.

The rabbi swept him farther inside the wide space. The smell of polished pine lingered in the air, and worn leather along with a hint of incense filled him, bringing him a measure of peace. Large, exposed honey-colored pine columns jutted toward the ceiling. Nat judged the building to be at least two stories high. He liked that it reminded him of his realm. Not entirely sure what he’d expected, he realized he ached for the ritual of home. Seeking the comfort of prayer had become a necessity.

“Do you mind, Rabbi, if I pray?” Nat moved toward the front of a large but thin wooden bench. The sweet smell of incense, stronger at the front, hit him again with the longing for home, while the rough-hued ivory color of the walls instantly soothed. Everything in his realm was white or varying shades of ivory. He found the brilliance of color that splattered thoroughly across Earth oddly disjointed. Did Isabella feel the same?

The rabbi chuckled, and Nat drew up.

“Mind if you pray? You’re joking, right? This is the Almighty’s house, my son. Pray all you want. It’s not every day, or should I say night, that I get a person darkening the door asking to pray. I will take that as a blessing. If you have need to talk, I will listen. But I warn you now—I tend to give advice.” He gave a bold wink of understanding, and Nat grinned in earnest. He smiled for the first time that day.

“Thank you. I am honored by your offer of guidance, but first I must purge my thoughts and seek the clarity of my mission through prayer.”

The rabbi stuffed his hands inside the robe’s dark pockets and chuckled again. “I knew you weren’t from around here. Take all the time you need, my son. I’ve been praying all day to avoid the work in my office, but that is the sloth within me and unless I get through some of my paperwork tonight, tomorrow will be even a longer day. My office is through the door on the left.” With that, the Rabbi left but not before giving a reassuring squeeze to Nat’s shoulder.

Nathanael moved to the front of the
heichal
, waiting until the rabbi departed before lying flat on the cool marble-veined floor. Extending his arms above his head to show respect, he breathed deeply. Meditation before prayer helped cleanse the mind, and if he sought to cleanse his soul, he’d spend a few minutes putting the events of the past few days behind him. He stayed that way until he felt the path of the light wind its way through him.

Speaking scripture
,
Nat started his prayer. “I beg thy guidance, Almighty father. I am a mere servant of yours, wishing to fulfill thy task. I seek help in mind, body, and soul. Lend thy light.”

Nat thought he must have said the formal prayer a dozen times before he heard the soft answer of the Mistress.

“Nathanael, first born of the House of Raphael, thou asked for this task. Thou hast petitioned for this honor.”

Careful to keep his voice neutral, Nat didn’t dare raise his eyes. He felt more than saw the Mistress’s cloaked form hovering near him.

“Yes, Mistress, but they…the Cherub who is to be my heavenly wife, she is not…” Nathanael paused, his gut tightened. He didn’t dare use the word that had jumped into his mind. The Mistress favored Cherubs. To call his soul mate impure would offend and the word felt wrong, even to him.

“They have been exiled for ten years.”

“Your point, Nathanael?” asked the Mistress.

Ticked that she didn’t seem to care for their Earthly circumstances, he barely refrained from looking up. Instead, taking a calming breath as his father had taught, he continued, “I mean no disrespect.”

“None so far taken,
Sere
.”

He nodded. “Could there have been a mistake?”

Fire ripped through his right shoulder the minute the Mistress laid a hand on him. “Art thou questioning the Almighty?”

“No…no, I would never.”
But I question you.

The Mistress removed her hand, healing light taking away the burning sting of her contact.

“I shall speak plainly. These times on Earth are troubled, Nathanael. The Almighty tests all his children. Some more than others, but there is always a reason. Isabella is your
b’iã.”

She doesn’t want to be
.

“What she wants is irrelevant in the greater scheme of the Almighty’s wishes. She is your heavenly wife, bound by the blessed holy laws. She is the other half of your soul.”

“She’s not
like
a Cherub,” blurted Nathanael.
Not at all the type of Cherub I want or desire.

“You dare say one of my Cherub’s hearts is not pure? Her soul not a beacon to thy own? Thou must look unto thyself, Nathanael. Perfection is a holy word we all ascribe to attain. What is best for us might be the flaws we find together to mend us whole. This is thy task. This is Isabella’s task. My daughter is more Cherub than thee have yet discovered. Love her like you were meant. Accept her for who she is, not some fanciful notion you have been taught. Accept my forgiveness and go forth with a blessed soul.”

The minute the Mistress departed, the cold of the empty synagogue settled around him like a mantle. Stiffly he moved from his prone position to stand, bowing four times—once to the east, south, north, and west, as was angel custom when leaving the Prayer House.

Knocking gently on the rabbi’s door, Nathanael waited a heartbeat to be welcomed into his sanctuary.

“Ah, my son, did praying help?”

Sort of.
Nat took the offered chair. “Yes, thank you.”

“Woman trouble, right? By the way—we never did introduce ourselves. I am the rabbi here, but feel free to call me Joe.”

“Joe?”

“As in your average Joe, but if you like, Joseph.”

Nat smiled. “I am Nathanael…” He paused, almost launching into his formal title, knowing that would open a floodgate of questions. “Feel free to call me Nat.”

“Well, Nat, am I right? Woman troubles?”

Nat nodded.

Joe took a sip of what had to be cold coffee. He leaned back in his wooden chair and assessed Nat. “Normally I’d launch into a talk about youth, lust, and giving it time, but I sense the seriousness in you. Why don’t you explain? Maybe I can offer some sage advice.” He grinned as he stroked his long beard thoughtfully.

“The woman I am supposed to be with isn’t at all like I thought.”

“Ah, an arranged marriage we are talking about? Had one of those myself, so I can sympathize. But let me tell you my story. Maybe that will help.”

Nat settled into his chair, enjoying the rumbling, soft cadence of Joe’s tale. The wisdom he learned from the rabbi’s story touched him greatly, even more so than the Mistress’s forgiveness or tangled words of wisdom.

Listening to Joe talk, he tried to imagine how Isabella must have felt—exiled from her home for so long, forced to adapt to mankind’s culture with the added burden of leading her fellow Cherub sisters. She had courage. Then he remembered her sheer determination, her bravery facing down the demons in the alley, and something sparked to life within him.

A vision of her softly singing a healing chant to soothe the male, Gareth, also stole through him. Doing only what she’d been taught, he realized. Cherubs healed with their voices and Gareth needed mending. Shocked to discover a male in her sanctuary, Nathanael had invaded the man’s mind, instantly soaking up his sorrow and the guilt eating away at his soul. The death of his fellow warriors was a plague scourging through all of him. He’d taken to alcohol to ease the burden of living. Isabella offered him comfort through her healing voice and while Nat didn’t like her hands-on approach with Gareth, he did admire her strength of character. She might not dress like a Cherub but inside, she was that and more: warrior, leader, healer, and mother. She embodied unique Cherub qualities; some he liked and some he found unsettling, but that didn’t mean he found her lacking.

But no way would his future wife bear arms. She must give up this life. That wasn’t up for negotiation. If need be, he’d bind her to him, without her consent. The notion made bile rise in his throat. He had vowed never to do such a thing, having promised his own Cherub mother he wouldn’t, after discovering how his father had treated her. His mother accepted her position with quiet dignity but Nat knew her loneliness. His father only called for her when the breeding necessitated. The holy binding ensured neither could take another. That was the Cherub-Seraphim way.

Once the blessed binding words were said, they could only have sex with each other. Nathanael wouldn’t be able to relieve his physical ache with any other. The reason for joining was to produce heavenly offspring. He’d become a
Sera
—a full-fledged Seraphim warrior, and move up the ranks to lead a heavenly army. He’d slay the dark stain of evil that continued to threaten the heavenly realm, one that more and more knocked with a loud bang on the heavenly gates.

His mother always said: live a life with purpose to serve the greater good and the Almighty’s path of light. To become all she wanted, he would have to do something she would hate.

Chapter Five

Izzy liked to boldly display some of her flesh when singing in the band. Why? Because it went totally beyond what she’d been taught. While they didn’t wear some of the more tantalizing clothing a lot of teens did, some in the band did wear short skirts and most, like her, wore halter tops on stage. If her own mother could have seen her, she’d have certainly drop dead. Thanks to the demons and the last heavenly war, she didn’t worry about that. Her mother, like Meredith’s, had been killed trying to save her and the other Cherubs clustered together for evening prayer. Izzy had vowed that day, watching her mother use her body as a shield to save her, she would learn to fight. No one else would ever sacrifice their life for her.

She looked over at Anya, who had the unique distinction of being the youngest Cherub kicked out of the heavens. Forced out at the tender age of sixteen, like the rest of them, she hadn’t aged a day in a decade. Showcasing flesh was a rebellious act and went against everything they had been taught as Cherubs. But that was why they did it.

Still, every night when Izzy forced herself to appear happy and relaxed in her stage outfit, she never felt at ease. She might wish to be brazen and admire the carefree attitude of the girls who dressed in skimpy attire at the recreation center, but deep down her teachings and her upbringing reared their ugly heads. As uncomfortable as she was in the spotlight, their singing voices quite literally paid for everything in their lives now and she never forgot how they had to make their living.

Sunday night, and the recreational center owned by Michael Hughes, known simply as Mike, to them and his closest friends, filled with the usual. Once again, Izzy thanked the heavens he’d found her. During those first awful days, which turned to bitter, cold months when her faith in herself and what she’d fought for had been most severely tested, she truly understood loneliness. Izzy wasn’t sure what she would have done if he hadn’t of found her. She tried not to think of the alternative, but seeing the teens using their bodies for quick cash left her no doubt what she would have had to do to secure food and shelter for her sisters. His kind offer of help with no strings attached truly touched her to this day. When Izzy had to quickly acclimatize to Earth, she’d learned the hard way that not all humans were nice or caring. With nowhere to go, she’d taken to singing for her supper on the streets. Humans called it begging but it had never felt degrading to Izzy. Not that it was fun, of course.