Guardian Angel (22 page)

   She stood in a broken chapel, long s
ince decayed and corrupted. Its roof had wide gaps, through which shone the ruddy light of a sky alight with flame. The walls had crumbled in places, and the altar had been defiled with graven images of debasement. The windows had been smashed, leaving glass shards on the floor as torment for the damned.

Cries of pain and wails of despair made up the Pit’s chorus. Unlike the soft notes, well- formed music and order of the Heavens, Hell’s music was chaotic, discordant and, to Jasmine now a lot more exciting. She watched, as a procession of the damned filed into the chapel, shackled at their ankles and hounded by lesser imps, prodding and jabbing at them. The pitchforks spiking into exposed buttocks reminded Jasmine for a moment of a comedy show she had seen on Earth. The image brought a small sense of amusement to Jasmine and she smiled mirthlessly.

The image expanded into a memory; a memory of her time on Earth with her former charge. A pang of something built in her gut; it pained her to focus on it. She felt regret, she felt guilt...and she felt love. Unbidden, a tear rolled down her cheek as memories of her time with Michael flooded back.

 
The moment passed as her new demonic self re-asserted control. She lashed out at the nearest damned in the procession, rewarding her efforts with wails of pain and cries of anger. The imps jabbered and laughed, redoubling their efforts to herd the damned into the chapel. Jasmine enjoyed the pain she had inflicted. It felt good to do as she pleased. It was time to begin the latest round of tortures on this rabble of lost souls. The souls of murderers and rapists. Jasmine felt vindicated in her new duties as a demon. She had true freedom now, no longer shackled by petty rules and regulations.

“
That existence is gone now. It’s not me any more, not ever me again.” A single black feather fell from her wing to burn on the parched ground.

***

 
Michael had never been to Claire’s house before, yet when the cab pulled up outside he had a sense of déjà vu. He had grown up in Hertfordshire but had moved to London a good few years back, probably why he had the odd feeling. Claire lived in a small commuter town called Ware. Compared to London it seemed like a very green and rural setting.

Her house was larger than Michael had imagined on the kind of salary she was getting, but probably a lot cheaper to rent or buy than anywhere in London. It had a short drive that the taxi travelled partially up to drop them off, and made Michael feel he was visiting some private estate.

Michael tried to pay, but Claire waved her hand dismissively and got out her wallet. Knowing better than to argue, he got out of the taxi and glanced around. The house had a small garden to the left of the drive, which seemed badly maintained. Wild flowers and small sprouts grew out of the small lawn, while the flowerbeds were filled with flowers of many colours. Some patches were bare, as if the flowers had been picked.

 
Claire finished paying the driver, thanked him and gestured for Michael to follow her in. For the third time since he had met Claire at the hospital, he wondered where Jazen was, hoping nothing bad had happened. Claire fumbled in her handbag for her keys, taking ages to finally locate them in its bottomless pit.

Deftly opening the door, she again gestured wordlessly for Michael to go inside. She followed him in, shutting the door behind them.

The first thing that hit Michael about Claire’s home was the smell. A wave of scents and aromas buffeted his nose, as his mind struggled to make sense of them all. He could pick out several different types of incense, several perfumes and a myriad other smells. It made him feel dizzy and a little nauseous.

The second thing was how brightly lit the place was. Claire had mirrors located everywhere that reflected the light, giving her entry hall a faint glow.

  
“Make yourself at home. The toilet is just there to the left, and the lounge is the door after that. Kitchen's down the end on the right next to the door to the garden. I won't be long, just need to freshen up a little.” Claire said skipped up a flight of stairs out of sight.

 
Michael hesitated for a moment, before deciding to wait in the living room. In contrast to the hall, Claire’s living room was dimly lit. The curtains were still drawn, and a table at the far end had been set up with plates, cutlery and now burned-down candles. She must have come straight to see him when she heard about his accident. He felt he owed her an apology for how curt he had been.

The living room was laid out much like any lounge, a TV in the corner near the window, a pair of small sofas, and a coffee table in the middle. The big difference Michael noted was the huge quantity of books and trinkets arranged on shelves all around the sides of the room. Almost all the books related to the occult, many on angels and spirits.

   Michael
’s musings were interrupted by a flash of light behind him. He turned, assuming that Claire had come in and turned the lights on, and stared up at the most majestic being he had ever seen. Floating in the air, an angel with huge white wings and a burning golden halo smiled at him warmly. The angel’s wingspan was so large that the tips merged with the wall.

“Greetings, Michael”

Despite all his experience with the supernatural, despite all the angels he had seen, Michael was left awestruck by this being. The angel seemed to emanate power in a palpable aura, but Michael did not feel threatened. If anything, he felt at peace. Everything was going to be all right.

“
My name is Metatron. I don’t have much time, Michael since your friend will soon return, as will her Guardian. So I must keep this brief.” Metatron's voice was a choir all singing the words at once.

“
The Voice of God?” Michael stammered. He had seen something about it in a movie.

“
Indeed, but let's put that aside for now, shall we?” Metatron sank to the floor, but the portal above him remained open.

“
I know you have lost someone precious to you, Michael." Metatron's voice lowered in solemnity. "Jasmine has fallen from grace, become a demon. I presume you read her letter to you. That was what she was speaking of."

“
A demon?” Michael stammered. That couldn't be possible could it? He wanted it to be a lie, but somehow knew that Metatron was telling the truth.

“
We believe she made the choice to save you."

  Mic
hael slammed his fist down onto the table in anger. He felt Anger at himself, at Jasmine and even at Metatron.

“
Why didn’t you stop her?" He shouted before he could stop himself. "Why didn’t God help me? Why the Hell is all this happening to me?”

 
Instead of reacting angrily, as he expected, the Angel sighed. “Because, Michael, God gave you all free will. He is not a puppet master, pulling at the strings of the universe. He is a Guardian, the ultimate Guardian of all we hold dear. If God interfered every time something bad happened, or every time a human wished it due to selfish desire, then you would have no will, you would not grow and you would have no responsibility for your own actions.” Metatron paused, as if listening. He flicked his wrist and the door locked itself.

“
At any rate, Michael, we do not have time for a philosophical discussion. I am not supposed to be here at all and do not have the time. I can sense the despair radiating off you like waves of darkness, Michael. Don’t be foolish. Embrace the little embers of hope every time they stir in your soul, because they will keep you aloft, away from the depths where you don’t belong."

“
What can I do?" Michael stammered. "I feel like I should do something, but I have no idea what?”

“
You are already following the right path by coming here, Michael. Life is like a book being read. The future pages are already written but are yet to be seen. But, as you are a human, there's nothing stopping you from adding your own little notes and changing the outcome.” Metatron gave a half smile before again cocking his head to listen.

“
Free will…?”

“
Precisely. You answer to no master, no rules bind you, you have the power to do whatever you set your mind and will upon doing. Even rescuing someone when no one else believes it is possible.”

“
But how?” The embers in his soul flared up.

“
Again, you are following the right path. You are in the place you need to be. Now all you need to do is realise your potential and the resources and strength all around you.”

 
The door-knob rattled, and Michael looked at it with a start.

“
We are out of time," said Metatron. "I wish you well, Michael and I hope not to see you too soon."

“
Thank…” Michael had made half his reply before Metatron was gone, vanishing through the portal of light in an instant, just as the door to the living room opened to show Claire standing there, looking quizzical.

“
You…” Michael finished.

“
What for?” Claire asked, with a bemused expression on her face.

***

  Michael stood looking at Claire for a moment, dumbfounded by what had just happened. The little spark that Metatron’s words had relit burned brightly, and waves of hope washed through him. Was it possible to bring Jasmine back? Could he save her?

“
What for?” Claire repeated, tapping her foot.

“
Oh…for coming to the hospital, for caring about me.” Michael was caught on the hop, replying with the first thing that came to mind.

Claire blushed, a side of her Michael had seldom seen. “Uh...well...I, uh... couldn’t just leave a friend and co-worker in hospital alone….” After a moment, she added.“You’re welcome.” Michael smiled in reply and Claire blushed even more.

“So, would you like anything, can I get you a drink?”

“
Sure, a glass of water or juice would be great.”

“
No problems,” Claire said and went out to the kitchen.

  
Michael was glad for the time to think. He sat down heavily on one of her sofas and sank into a deep slouch. Metatron’s words kept playing over and over in his mind, but he couldn’t work out exactly what they had meant, although surely the answer was right in front of him.

  
The thought of Jasmine as a demon disturbed him so much he felt physically sick with anxiety. His mind kept coming up with twisted and horrible visions, distorting memories of Jasmine, of her beautiful face and cute little wings. He remembered how small her wings had been when they had first met, and how they seemed to grow in the weeks since then. Was it due to her due growing stronger and maturing? But even thinking about this brought his thoughts back to Jasmine as a Demon. Would she be too strong to help?

 
Claire returned, her face back to its normal pale complexion. and Jazen was now behind her. He gave Michael an odd look, a mix of compassion and caution. Claire leaned down to put a glass on the coffee table, and Michael had to look away to avoid glancing down her top. Jazen gave an approving nod.

 
Claire, who had changed into a loose-fitting black top with black jeans, sat across from Michael on the opposite sofa, putting a cup of tea on the table in front of her. Jazen stood behind her, shaking his head every time Michael looked at him directly, as if reminding him to stay focused on Claire.

“A lot has happened lately.” Claire said. She exhaled deeply and, following Michael’s lead, relaxed into a deep slouch.

“
It sure has.” Michael replied, wondering if Claire had read anything more into his reply.

Claire
’s expression changed from tired to serious as she sat up and stared at Michael. She narrowed her eyes, as if straining to see something, then looked directly at him.

“
I see your blonde angel isn’t with you today.” The statement was flat and her face carefully neutral.

 
Michael’s heart raced, and anxiety stabbed stomach as if his guts had tied themselves in a knot. He made an unsuccessful attempt to sit up casually from his slouching position and ended up feeling even more awkward as he struggled upright. Jazen’s expression showed his own suprise as he looked from Claire, to Michael and back.

“Uh...uhm, you could see her?” Michael managed. He was too tired to try and make up excuses.

“
I knew it!” Claire yelled.

“
I couldn’t actually see her, but I felt someone there with us all the time down by the Thames. And that whole thing with the hobo, I knew something dodgy was going on! You were the last person I expected to be involved in this kind of thing, Michael.”

 
Claire seemed to grow more excited and anxious before Michael. Her breathing quickened, and her face drained of colour. She was clearly struggling with it and Michael felt sympathy for her situation. He knew how bad anxiety could be, especially with the way his life had been going lately.