Guardian Angel (8 page)

In his true form, Garamond looked much like he had before his fall. A well-muscled body, long raven hair, and piercing eyes. However now his skin had a crimson pallor, his eyes glowed red, and two large horns protruded from his temples. The changes still felt as fresh as when he'd fallen, centuries before. Just as exciting, just as tantalizingly different. He licked his lips thinking of the horror of his charge’s face and her screams as he had devoured her corrupt soul, banishing it to hell forever.

She had been a murderer in life, sleeping with her lonely desperate victims, then slaying them for some kind of sick satisfaction. Garamond in his innocence had at first been repelled. However, as she continued her foul works, eventually he'd become enraptured by it, thrilled even. By the time she finally died, his horns had already grown and the chains that bound him to the pit were an inch thick. Then they had fallen and before the Beast himself, Garamond had devoured her soul, sealing his transformation into a demon.

 
That was four hundred years ago, in human reckoning, but to Garamond it may as well have been yesterday. He chuckled, coming back to the present. He waved a hand dismissively at the chair, and two sultry looking women emerged from the shadows to either side. They dragged away the chair's previous occupant, pouting and grinning at Garamond. Their eyes glowed red showing the true nature of what inhabited them.

Garamond was the Arch-Devil and the Beasts scourge on Earth. He was the most powerful demon allowed to walk on the mortal plane, as ordained by cosmic law, since the birth of the universe. His job was simple: the corruption of human souls and tempting more angels to fall, swelling the forces of Hell and boosting the power of his master, the Devil.

Garamond sat down again now in his true form, glancing down at his throne. Its arm rests were made of skulls and its back was adorned with artwork depicting two women involved in sexual acts. Lust had always been his favorite deadly sin, always the easiest way to corrupt the weak.

 
Garamond took his position very seriously - if he didn’t he could easily be replaced by another budding Arch-Devil, and sent back screaming to the pit to pay for his lack of initiative.

 
So when Garamond found an opportunity, he made sure to take advantage of it as quickly as possible. The stars had aligned perfectly on the day of the accident. He had meant initially to kill the mortal, to remove a potential threat. However, at the last moment, he had decided it would be better to cripple him, leave him vulnerable for months. That would allow his minions to chip away at his resolve at their leisure, seduce him into darkness slowly. When he awoke, his angel would be in chains and his soul would be Garamond's to use.

A mortal who perceived supernatural forces was a rarity. Some could innately sense angels and demons, or managed contact them through witchcraft and sorcery. However, a mortal who could actually see them as normally as his own kind, was truly a rare occurrence. Garamond had hoped to corrupt this mortal and use him, but higher powers had interfered. His guardian angel had proved much stronger than expected, healing her charge and keeping him from slumbering too long. She had even seen off Garamond's little imp when it had tried to get close. To make things worse also had a strong spirit and a good soul; he would be difficult to corrupt.

  Still Garamond knew his opportunity had not yet passed, and he could still kill the mortal if need be. The benefit he could gain from turning him however, was too much too ignore. With a mortal who could actively influence other souls, see ones ripe to fall and help them on their way, Garamond could increase hell’s army massively in a short time. With such power, he could secure his position and even return to hell leading an army strong enough to overthrow his lord and tyrant.

Garamond grinned as he reclined in his throne again, this time his inhuman body easily contorting to his unnatural slouch. His two attendants knelt by his side, scandalously clad and showing enough skin to excite even the most jaded man. Garamond smiled as they stroked and touched him, thinking of all the power he would gain once he had corrupted the mortal. Garamond just had to bide his time and find a way to bring him over to his side. It would only be a matter of time until an opportunity presented itself. Garamond laughed, a haunting sound that he sensed disturb the mortals working half a mile above his lair.

***

  Michael awoke with a start, almost bolting upright. He could have sworn he had heard laughter. He had not been dreaming that he remembered, but just before he awoke, he heard a chilling laugh, one that made his skin crawl. He glanced around and saw that the TV had a comedy show on, with the usual canned laughter in the background. That had most likely been the source of it.

 
Glancing around, Michael reckoned it was late morning. He'd slept right through into the next day, and Jasmine was nowhere to be seen. For some reason, Michael felt lonely.

“
I guess I am finally getting used to having her around,” Michael muttered as he stretched then stood up to go in search of something to eat.

He staggered into the kitchen and made a sandwich, grabbing a can of coke as he left to wash it down. Michael remembered he had not been online since the accident, had not had the chance to check his emails. Had anyone been trying to get in touch from work?

The phone had a couple of messages from his parents and friends, asking if he was ok or home yet, but beyond that nothing. Michael had nothing better to do anyway, and, as Jasmine seemed to be away, he sat down at his computer desk.

His Computer always took too long to start up, buzzing and humming as it got going. He took a couple of bites of his sandwich while he waited. Eventually the computer powered up and Michael entered his password sending him to his start up page. A tasteful picture of one of his favourite actresses greeted him, and he waved at her. He didn't really know why he did it, he just always had.

  As expected the fifty new emails were almost all newsletters. However, a couple were get-well messages from distant friends, and one was from a work colleague called Claire.

Claire was roughly equal to him in seniority, but worked in the publishing firm's other department overseeing printing and corporate duties, rather than the magazine and book side of things that Michael oversaw. They had exchanged pleasantries, and even been out to lunch once when neither had anything better to do. Beyond that, Michael couldn’t really say he was close to her or that they had much in common. She had always seemed a bit guarded and Michael hated to say it, odd.

  Michael opened the email curious as to what Claire had to say. He expected a message with the usual “Hope you're OK” spiel. As he had thought, the first part of the email, wished him a speedy recovery and explained how she had heard about the accident.

 
It took Michael a moment to realise; the email was dated the day before the accident. If it wasn't a mistake, it was creepy.

“I know it's kinda strange Michael, but I saw you in my, dreams last night. I saw your accident. I had been worried but somehow I also knew you would be ok, I saw a blonde woman with wings standing over you, taking care of you.”

“Please don’t stop reading or think me some kind of freak, but as soon as you’re better I would like to meet up to discuss all this with you.”

   The rest of the email sank back into vague pleasantries, providing a contact number and signing off.

Was this some kind of wind up or cruel joke? Then again, the blonde woman could easily have been Jasmine. But Claire? She had always seemed like such a straight arrow, she was strong-minded, factual and sometimes even cold.

He was finding it hard to believe she paid close attention to her dreams and even harder, that she would discuss the matter with a co-worker. Surely that meant she was on the level and that at some point it might be a good idea meeting her. It would also be worth mentioning it to Jasmine as hopefully she could shed some light on Claire’s behaviour.

Right on cue, a small circle of light formed on Michael’s ceiling. It expanded, slowly growing until it encompassed the light fitting making. Were his lights going to be sucked up on high through it? Two small feet emerged, followed by slender legs and finally Jasmine’s torso and head. Her wings were the last to emerge. They glowed bright, each feather emanating light, and were cast up above her, their tips holding the edge of the portal open until she was fully through, shutting it off as they folded down to tuck behind her back. His light fitting was still in one piece. that shouldn't have been disappointing, but it was.

Michael noticed Jasmine smile, as he swung his computer chair round to face her. He felt much healthier upon seeing her return. The sight of her, brought faint memories of Jasmine singing to him again. Had she sung to him while he slept again?

“
How are you feeling?”

“
Fine…actually, I hadn’t even noticed. Amazing what a bit of TV and sleep can do.”

“
And a little song or two.”

 
Michael cocked his head a bit confused “I guess so…Where have you been?”

“
Did you miss me?” There was a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“
Well uh, I was just expecting you to be about” Michael could tell he was blushing from the smile on Jasmine's face.

Her charge had always been hesitant showing affection or admitting feelings, it was cute in a way to her. She decided not to tease him and walked over to stand by the computer facing Michael as the glow of transition faded from her wings. She leaned against the wall, her wingtips brushing the wallpaper and casting odd shadows as the sun shone in through the window.

“
I went on high again to check on a friend, and to see if I could find out anything more about our…pretty unique situation.” Jasmine sighed.

“
And...any news?”

***

Jasmine recalled her attendance at Jazen’s choir. The choir was an angelic court, although dissimilar from the human version. The senior angels would hear Jazen sing and read his intentions, his thoughts and his past actions. They would then judge him and hand down appropriate punishment.

He had once again gone too far in contacting his charge, spurred on by Jasmine and Michael’s situation. Jasmine regretted even mentioning it to him the last time they spoke. It was bound to encourage him in trying to contact his charge. Again, Jazen had appeared before Claire during one of her occult rituals. He again had broken one of the oldest rules of being a guardian.

During his song, Jazen had mentioned Jasmine in one of the more sorrowful refrains, pleading for permission to speak to his charge openly as Jasmine could to Michael, but his pleas had been ignored. The rules were there for a good reason. They were first ordained on high when guardians first stood by Adam and Eve the day they were cast out of heaven. Even in his wrath, the almighty refused to leave man completely alone in the world.

Jazen was denied his pleas. He had been found wanting and given his final warning. A chorus of voices half sang, half spoke the verdict. “No direct contact or you will be reassigned; a young cherub will stand by Claire. Further direct contact risks her memory being altered, a confusing process for any human. This is the Choir’s verdict, so it is said”

After the Choir, Jazen gave several of the Seraphim an acidic look. She was surprised to see such raw emotion on his face and even more surprised that the emotion was anger. Jazen really was treading a dangerous path, even coming close to falling, all over his unrestrained emotions and desire to be noticed by his mortal charge. Jasmine felt a shudder remembering her own emotions towards Michael. Loving one’s charge as you would love a child was part of the job, but even that feeling had to be measured and contained. Falling for your charge was a completely different thing and altogether more precarious.

Jasmine decided not to speak to Jazen as he left, not wishing to agitate the situation, merely giving him a soft smile and wave as he rushed past. He looked at her briefly, the sorrow in his eyes shining through, but then walked away rapidly, opening his wings to return to Earth. Jasmine had sung for him in the sunlight corridors outside the choir chambers, praying for a positive outcome.

Afterwards, Jasmine walked the white corridors staring up at the blazing sun. Its light reflected off the gold and bronze archways that overhung the walkways of the angels' sanctum. Beams of light bounced off the pillars and arches casting golden echoes of the sun’s glory all around, creating a haze of light. It all soothed Jasmine’s mind as she strolled along.

She eventually came to the Metatron’s chambers again, where only a day previously she had stood hearing her orders for the future. He wasn't there, most likely conversing on a higher level. But outside a small scroll, floated in the air on a pair of comically small wings. As she approached, it fluttered towards her and landed in her hands. The message was meant for her and its sender had known she would pass by this route.

Metatron had always said, “There is no coincidence, only certainty in action”. The message would be another of his ways of proving that fact. That he had known she would walk past this point, just as a human knows the sun will rise the next day. She sighed and smiled at the small scroll, as its wings settled and folded in on themselves. She opened it tentatively and began reading.