Angel of Death: (Reaper Series Book 1), Page 26

  THE TRUTH REVEALED

  Darius led the way down the cave-tunnel, with Peyton staying close behind him. With every step, it grew darker and darker. They moved slowly, their footing unsure as loose stones moved underfoot, threatening to slip from beneath them and cause them to fall. The tunnel was narrow, small enough for Peyton to keep a hand on the walls on either side of her for help keeping her balance. Darius stared ahead with determination. They were close. So close, now. Fate was only at the end of the tunnel. Fate was the only one who could help, now, their last desperate hope. If Fate refused to help, refused to change the design… Darius didn’t know what else he could do to save Peyton. He looked over his shoulder back at her. He still couldn’t see her fate. All he could see was a young woman, scared to find herself in such a fantastical situation, running for her life in a world she didn’t even know existed a day earlier, hunted and very nearly killed by creatures she thought belonged in myth and storybooks. She was brave, braver than he had ever imagined any mortal could be in her situation, Darius had to admit. She had even fared well with the monsters they had come up against, especially the Joro-Gumo. Darius was impressed and even…

  Darius looked ahead again. He couldn’t let himself start thinking like that. Not now. He had to remain focused. Thinking about Peyton in any way other than how to keep her alive was a waste of his energy. But still, his mind sometimes wandered.

  And what do you think would happen, anyway? he thought, sardonically. You would save her life and then you could be together? That you would take her out to dinner, meet her family, propose, get married, have children? You’re a monster to her. No different than the creatures outside. You’ll save her, take her home, and never see her again.

  “Hey, look,” Peyton said, snapping Darius out of his misery. “I think the tunnel is ending.”

  She was right. The tunnel began to open out and there was light beginning to shine from up ahead from within a large opening. Darius and Peyton reached the end of the tunnel and found themselves standing at the entrance to a huge chamber. The ground they now stood on was flat, but quickly gave out to an enormous abyss. Darius leaned forward and looked down the gigantic hole, but couldn’t see the bottom as the darkness quickly swallowed the light. Ahead of them stood a narrow stone bridge, seeming to have formed naturally. It stretched out over the abyss toward a stone island that had formed over the abyss, held up by a combination of stone walkways and giant pillars that vanished into the darkness above and below. The light was coming from the center of the island.

  “Something is moving over there,” Peyton whispered.

  There was, indeed, something moving around on the island. Its shape stood out against the light whenever it moved. It seemed to be walking back and forth, like it was in a hurry, but had nowhere to go.

  “That must be Fate,” Darius whispered back. “Let’s go.”

  The bridge was only wide enough for them to walk one at a time, so Darius led the way. There were no handrails to keep them from falling, so they moved carefully. Peyton kept repeating to herself under her breath, “Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down…”

  “Are you alright?” Darius asked.

  Peyton nodded and said, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just… I’m not good with heights.”

  Darius glanced back at her and saw that she was walking rigidly, keeping her eyes straight ahead. “Put your hands on my shoulders,” he told her. “It’ll be easier to keep your balance. I’ll guide you.”

  Peyton obliged and placed her hands on Darius’ broad shoulders. She held tight, but Darius liked the feel of her touch. He quickly shook off the thought and continued on.

  “Darius?” Peyton said.

  “Yes, Peyton?”

  “I don’t remember if I said it already or not, but… Well, I wanted to thank you.”

  “Thank me?” Darius repeated. “For what?”

  “What do you mean, ‘for what?’” Peyton said. “For saving my life so many times, of course. You could have just let Voss kill me, but you didn’t. You could have let Azrael take my soul, but you stopped him. You could have just walked away so many times, but you stuck it out with me. So, I just wanted to say… Thank you.”

  “You’re not completely safe, yet,” Darius replied. “We still need to convince Fate to help. Then we need to make sure Azrael can’t come after you again. And then there’s-”

  “Darius, just accept my thanks, will you?” Peyton interrupted, smirking and rolling her eyes.

  Darius couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, I’m sorry. You’re welcome, Peyton.”

  “Was that so hard?” Peyton teased.

  They came to the end of the bridge and stepped onto the island. Peyton stepped from behind Darius to stand beside him, looking around. There wasn’t much to look at, the entire cave being almost entirely shrouded in darkness, but there was a strange source of light coming from the center of the island. It seemed to be coming from a large pool, about twenty feet in diameter, that was submerged in the stone. It shone with an ethereal blue light, the rippling surface casting reflections of light on the stone pillars that surrounded them. The only other thing of interest on the island was a small person, running around the pool, occasionally stopping to stoop over the water and wave a hand in some fashion or another, then immediately stand up and carry on, repeating the process as they ran to and fro. The creature seemed to be constantly muttering, their voice echoing slightly in the large cave, but Peyton couldn’t make out what they were saying. Darius stepped forward.

  “Fate?” he called, but the person ignored him, continuing to go about their business. Darius cleared his throat and called out again, louder this time. “Excuse me, Fate!”

  Suddenly, the person looked up at them. Peyton realized that it was a woman. An ancient woman with thin white hair that hung wildly around her face. She wore a robe, almost the same as the one Azrael wore, but much shorter sleeves and no hood. Not to mention her robe was so filthy it looked gray and was torn in numerous places. Her face was wrinkled and decrepit, full of deep lines. The woman suddenly hurried toward them, shuffling quickly, scuffing her feet on the stone floor. She shuffled up to Darius and stuck her nose right in his face, standing on her toes to get a better look at him.

  “It’s Darius, the Reaper, finally come to see us,” she said, talking very fast. Then she immediately said, “Yes-yes-yes, I can see that, what took him so long? Maybe he stopped for a snack, a drink, showed his friend the sights? No-no-no, that’s not fair, you know what’s out there, how difficult it is, how long they must have walked, we must be hospitable. Come in! Come in!” The woman then hurried back towards the pool, waving a hand for Darius and Peyton to follow.

  Peyton and Darius looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Peyton leaned closer to Darius and whispered, “Is she okay?”

  “I have no idea,” Darius replied, sounding confused. “But I suppose we should go with her.”

  The woman had returned to her frenzied shuffle around the pool of illuminated water, stopping here and there to reach over the surface with her hands. Darius and Peyton approached her, watching with as much interest as caution, in case the strange woman decided they were no longer welcome.

  “I’m sorry, but are you Fate?” Darius asked.

  “Stupid Reaper, doesn’t even know who we are,” the woman snarled, but then her voice suddenly turned sweet and she said, “You know they have all forgotten us, we are out of sight, out of mind, it’s as simple as that. Yes, Reaper, we are Fate.”

  Darius and Peyton reached the same conclusion at the same moment. This woman, Fate, had clearly lost her mind. As they watched Fate, uncertain of what to do next, having discovered their savior was insane, the old woman seemed to spot something in the pool and hurried over to the place she was staring with twinkling eyes and leaned over it, cackling excitedly and clapping her hands, the sound echoing all around the cave.

  “Oh, yes, they did it!” she cried. “I knew they
would make the right choice, didn’t I tell you? Yes-yes-yes, well done, you were right, this time. Enough cackling, you two, let’s get to it.”

  Then Fate held her hands over the pool and slowly waved them around. The pool began to ripple beneath her position, suddenly glowing brighter, then quickly dimming again. Fate hurried away and began checking other spots in the pool. Darius tried again to get her attention.

  “Fate, please, we must speak with you!” he called out.

  “Then speak, Reaper, speak! We haven’t got all day!”

  “We’ve come to seek your help,” Darius said, beginning to walk around the pool to follow Fate. “Azrael, the Father of Reapers, Master of Death, has turned on us. He has been stealing the souls of mortals and-”

  “Good lord, does he ever shut up?” Fate interrupted. “Tell us something we don’t know, Reaper! Don’t listen to her, child, she doesn’t mean anything by it. She has a point, though, we know all of this, it’s wasting time, time we - and they - don’t have.”

  “If you know what has happened, then you know why we’re here,” Darius said.

  Fate nodded, still staring into the pool. “Oh, yes, we know, alright, we know. You have come to save the mortal woman. Peyton!”

  Peyton jumped when Fate shouted her name, but the woman was gesturing kindly to her, inviting her closer. Peyton obliged and walked around the pool to Fate’s side. Fate reached out and took hold of Peyton’s hands and held them tightly in her own wrinkled ones. She held them up close to her face, inspecting the palms. She didn’t seem to be too concerned with being gentle, because she was turning and twisting Peyton’s wrists and fingers as she studied them carefully, causing Peyton a little pain and a lot of discomfort. Fate then let go of Peyton’s hands, reached up and took hold of Peyton’s face, pinching her cheeks and turning her head from side to side while Peyton winced in pain.

  “Oh, yes-yes-yes, yes, it’s her alright, this mortal Peyton Paradisa, definitely her, no doubt-no doubt. Azrael has been looking for this one for a long-long-long time, oh yes, she is the one he wants. No, the one he needs, remember? The one he needs.”

  Fate suddenly snapped her attention back to the pool and gasped. She released Peyton’s cheeks and hurried over to the spot that drew her attention. She held her hands out over the water again, shaking her head sadly and clucking her tongue with annoyance.

  “That was a poor decision, indeed, yes-yes-yes. Very poor decision. Yes, that will not do them any favors after they die, none at all. Tartarus will have them for sure, yes-yes-yes.”

  Darius’ face had set in a mildly annoyed expression, like he wanted to say something to the old woman before him, but held back. Peyton decided she should deal with the lady. Her nursing education had given her a pretty decent bedside manner and she had a lot of patience when it came to dealing with people suffering from dementia. Peyton stepped up beside Fate again to speak with her.

  “I’m sorry, Miss?” she began. Fate turned to look at her, momentarily surprised to be addressed. “Are you able to help us? My friend here, Darius, he’s been trying to stop Azrael from taking my soul. And I certainly don’t want Azrael to have it. Is there any chance you can help?”

  Fate suddenly smiled and gave Peyton a look of pity. “Oh dear, dear-dear-dear. We know what Darius has brought you here for, but we cannot help. Not in the way he would like, no-no-no. The Reaper wants us to rewrite your fate, but that is impossible. We do not write fates. We do not control what happens to mortals.”

  Darius, surprised, stepped forward, his face suddenly shocked and desperate. “What? Of course you write the fates, you are Fate! You write what happens to mortals throughout their lives.”

  “Boy, do not tell us what it is we do when you have it all wrong,” Fate snapped, suddenly bitter again. “We do not determine the outcome of the lives of mortals. We do not deign to control any creature. Why else would the Almighty have created free will amongst them? No-no-no, we do not control. We test. We arrange tests of the soul for mortals on Earth. Did you ever hear the phrase, ‘everything happens for a reason?’ Well, we are that reason. Every choice, every decision, every act, every time you need to choose between right and wrong, hard or easy, love or power, that choice was placed in front of you because of us. We do not write the resolution, only the conflict. The choice, and the fate, is up to the mortal.”

  “But if you don’t write the fates of mortals, how do you explain a Reaper’s Sight?” Darius replied. “How can I see someone’s ultimate fate if it isn’t predetermined?”

  Fate shook her head, clucking her tongue. “You see the destination of the path they currently walk. But they may choose another path at any time. The path twists and turns and has countless other paths to turn on to. It is not predetermined by anyone but the mortal walking that path.”

  Darius fell silent. He looked around the large cavern, shifting his gaze from Fate to Peyton to the pool and then wildly around the darkness, unsure of how to proceed.

  “So,” Peyton began. “You can’t write a different ending for me? You can’t make it so Azrael doesn’t get my soul?”

  Fate, suddenly kind again, smiled sweetly at Peyton. “I’m afraid not, my dear. That outcome is up to you. You will be faced with a choice. To save your soul. Or save everyone else’s.”

  Peyton stepped back, away from Fate. “What? What do you mean?”

  “There is a fork in the road you currently walk,” Fate said, turning back to the pool. She cast her hands over the water and suddenly a swirling cloud of light rose off the surface and floated in the air before them. Peyton and Darius watched the light as it swirled around, watching it as Fate continued to speak. “You will face a test and you will need to make a choice. It will be a hard choice. The hardest choice anyone could make.” The swirling light began to take shape and Peyton could see three people standing in the image. She recognized one as herself and another as Darius, glowing, ethereal representations. The third was a figure in a long cloak, their face hidden beneath a dark hood. Peyton watched the images as they floated before her. Fate continued to speak.

  “You will have to choose,” she was saying. “Azrael wants your soul and nothing anyone does will keep him from it. Not even Darius. The world is in peril, my dear. Not just the mortal world, but our own as well. The lives of all mortals, spirits and Angels depend on you. And your choice will decide the fate of countless souls. On one hand, you can choose to escape Azrael’s clutches, run, hide, stay away forever. Darius would undeniably help you do so, but sacrifice his own soul in the process. He fears his own fate, because of his mortal decisions. And in saving you, by himself, he will lose himself to the fate he so fears. And once Darius is no longer with you, nothing will stop Azrael from taking your soul by force.”

  The glowing light that was Darius began to shimmer and fade, breaking up into nothing and slowly falling back to the water’s surface.

  “But then, you can save him, Peyton,” Fate whispered. “You can save everyone. But you will not like the means.”

  “How?” Peyton asked. “How can I save everyone? I’m only one person.”

  “Ah, if Azrael takes your soul by force, he will be too powerful. An unstoppable force of destruction and chaos. But you have the key,” Fate grinned. “You have the one thing that Azrael wants above all else. To save Darius and everyone you have ever loved, cared for, met or even seen on the street, you must offer your soul to Azrael.”

  “No!” Darius shouted, his powerful voice echoing through the cave.

  Peyton only stared at Fate. “What?” she asked, her throat suddenly very dry.

  Fate was nodding. “Oh yes, I’m afraid so.”

  In the image of swirling light, the light that shaped Azrael reached toward the light that was Peyton. Light-Peyton turned to face him, offering herself over. Light-Azrael reached his hand through her chest and then she suddenly faded away in a swirling mist, leaving only Azrael standing there.

  “Giving yourself to Azrael is the onl
y way, my dear,” Fate said solemnly. “Once he has what he wants, he will be on the path to self-destruction. He will take many with him, destroy many lives. But many more will survive.”

  The light faded back into the pool and the representations were gone. Peyton felt sick. She wanted desperately to sit down and think, but there didn’t seem to be anywhere for her to sit. She ran both of her hands through her hair, processing everything she had just been told.

  “That can’t happen,” Darius said. “Those can’t be her only choices. Either way, Azrael gets her soul!”

  “Yes, but the manner in which he obtains it will make all the difference,” Fate explained. “A soul stolen and a soul given are very different energy sources indeed. Yes-yes-yes, listen to us, you fool, we know! Azrael will have Peyton’s soul, one way or the other. The only thing you can do for your precious mortal now is ensure that her soul remains pure and selfless. By sacrificing herself to Azrael, she will be protected. She will be trapped, yes, but safe. But why are we talking to you, Reaper? The decision remains with Peyton. It is her choice. Pointless self-preservation? Or selfless sacrifice of her soul?”

  “Azrael will never have her soul,” Darius swore.

  “Stop,” Peyton suddenly said. “Please, just… stop.”

  Darius and Fate fell silent and watched her as she folded her arms over her chest and chewed on the nail of her thumb, struggling with her offered choices. Peyton wasn’t sure what she would do. Save herself? Or save the world? Like a lot of people, she had once or twice envisioned herself saving the world in some courageous and noble way, but that was only ever in fantasy. A daydream. This was very, very real. She turned to Fate.

  “Why me?” she asked. “Why does it have to be me that Azrael takes? What’s so important about my soul?”

  “Ohhhh,” Fate suddenly sighed. “Oh, she doesn’t know. No one told her, of course she doesn’t know, how could she?”

  “What?” Peyton pressed. “What don’t I know?”

  “Dear-dear-dear,” Fate muttered, shuffling around the pool. “How to explain, how to explain? Just tell her, already, it can’t be that difficult. She looks just like her, how can no one have told her already? The Reaper doesn’t even remember her. How can he forget her? Stupid Reaper, he was too caught up in his transformation to pay attention.”

  “Wait, who do I look like?” Peyton asked. “Darius, what is she talking about?”

  Darius shook his head. “I-I don’t know. But… Ever since I saw you, I’ve felt like we’ve met before, but I could never remember where. I don’t…”

  “See?” Fate cackled, pointing at Darius. “He has forgotten! Should we tell him? Of course, we must, the mortal must know and so must her guardian.”

  “What is it?” Peyton begged.

  “Shekinah,” Fate stated simply.

  Darius felt it hit him with the force of a speeding truck. His eyes shot wide open and his jaw dropped. He stared at Peyton and immediately knew why she looked so familiar. He remembered the day Azrael came to him and made him a Reaper.

  Darius had only just risen from his own dead body. The first thing he could remember after being shot was looking down at himself, his bleeding corpse lying on the ground, his former squad having already walked away. He turned around and came face to face with a handsome, green-eyed man, wearing a long dark cloak. Azrael.

  Azrael had been smiling kindly, but Darius was still apprehensive. He didn’t take a step back, didn’t try to run. He only sighed at the man in the cloak and said, “I’m dead.”

  Azrael had nodded. “Yes, my friend. You have fallen victim to your own comrades during this time of war.”

  Darius nodded, letting it sink in. “So who are you?”

  “I am Azrael, the Angel of Death,” Azrael said. When Darius didn’t react, Azrael seemed surprised, tilting his head to the side. “You aren’t afraid?”

  “I’ve seen many things during this war,” Darius had said. “Many of which gave me nightmares, and all of which were far more terrifying than you, sir.”

  Azrael had laughed. “You are brave. Marvelous. Tell me, young Darius… What do you think waits for you on the other side?”

  Darius had been uncertain, but he was afraid then. He didn’t want to think about what he faced after passing on. He had killed people, outside of battle and in. He had sinned. He feared for his soul.

  “I don’t want to go to Hell, sir,” Darius had said, almost pleading, but Azrael grinned back at him.

  “Perhaps you won’t have to. I don’t know what awaits you beyond this world, but I’m going to make you an offer. You can pass on to the other side and take your chances. Or you can join me. You can become a Reaper and help me guide the souls of the deceased, much like yourself, on to the next world. You will never grow old, you will never get sick, and you will never die. What will it be?”

  Darius had agreed immediately. He never gave his decision any thought. All he knew and cared about at the time was that he didn’t want to go to Hell. The next thing he knew, he was in darkness. Azrael still stood before him, but everything else had been extinguished. He couldn’t even feel the ground beneath his feet. It was as though he was floating.

  Suddenly, he threw back his head and screamed as pain coursed through his entire body. It was a pain like he had never known. Every part of him felt as though it was being burned and flayed. He had writhed in the darkness, Azrael standing silently over him, watching. As Darius screamed, emphasizing every ounce of pain he was enduring, he suddenly looked up and saw a light. It was small, at first, but growing. It seemed to be getting closer. As the light drew near, Darius could see a person standing at its center. A woman. With glowing yellow hair and bright green eyes. She was smiling at him kindly, her eyes filled with sorrow at the pain he was enduring.

  “Please,” Azrael said to the woman. “Grant this soul the power he needs to help others find their way. Please help me make him a Reaper, Shekinah.”

  The woman nodded once at Azrael. Then she reached out slowly and placed her hand on Darius’ forehead. Suddenly, the pain stopped and Darius’ entire field of vision became nothing but a bright, blinding, white light.

  Darius snapped out of the memory, his eyes darting between Fate and Peyton. He had all but forgotten his transformation into a Reaper. The pain had been so intense, he must have repressed the entire experience. Including her.

  “Shekinah,” he whispered. “You do look just like her.”

  “Can someone please tell me who Shekinah is?” Peyton said, sounding frustrated.

  “Shekinah, my dear,” Fate began, “is one of the Archangels. One of the few who had a hand assisting in the creation of this universe. You, Peyton Paradisa, are her descendant.”

  “Excuse me?” Peyton said.

  “Thousands of years ago, when humanity was still only an infant,” Fate explained, “the Archangels and the Almighty realized that humanity was erratic. Unpredictable, due to the combination of free will they were given by their creator and the early onset of knowledge given by His daughter, Eve. Heaven was in turmoil, trying to understand the actions of humanity and how best to guide them to Heaven at the end of their lives, but coming up with no real evidence or solid theories. Finally, the Almighty came up with the idea that He and a few of the Archangels would descend to Earth and live a human lifetime. They would start as children, they would grow, they would love, hate, age and die. All the things that all humans do in life. The only way to understand humanity was to become a part of it. So, they came to Earth. They allowed themselves to be born to humans. They grew and they learned. Shekinah was one of them. She, and almost all of the others, gave children. When they all died, the Archangels returned to heaven with all of the knowledge they had gained. But their offspring remained on Earth. Those children grew and bore children of their own. And then they had children, and so on. The bloodlines have continued to this very day. Those descendants bare certain qualities that their Heavenly ancestors possess. Those blood
lines, the ones that have survived for thousands of years and are still existent today, are the very souls that Azrael has been hunting. He seeks them out, like a shark seeks out blood in the ocean, and he rips those souls out of the mortal shell. Azrael needs the souls of the Archangel descendants. Those souls are half-human, half-Archangel. The humans whose souls he has taken know nothing of this, of course. They were targeted for no reason other than their ancestry and the power lying dormant within their souls. Shekinah is your ancestor, Peyton Paradisa. The bloodline continued down on your father’s side, leaving only you upon his death. You are the last surviving member of Shekinah’s bloodline and the only chance Azrael has of gaining the final power he needs.”

  Peyton simply stared at Fate, like she thought the woman was talking complete lunacy and that the safest course of action would be to simply flee. She suddenly scoffed in derision and started shaking her head, staring at Fate.

  “You’re crazy,” she grinned. “There’s no way. No way.”

  “Why did you become a nurse, dear?” Fate asked.

  “What?”

  “Why did you become a nurse?” Fate repeated. “Why did you decide you wanted to devote your life to helping others, to saving lives?”

  Peyton frowned. “Does that matter right now?”

  Fate nodded fervently. “Oh, yes, it matters a great deal. What made you want to be a nurse?”

  Peyton sighed in frustration. “I actually wanted to be a doctor. I got into med-school and everything at Harvard, but I didn’t qualify for any full scholarships. I got a partial scholarships, but since father died when I was young, my mother didn’t have the money to pay the tuition. She did what she could, worked two jobs just to get me as far as I got, but it still wasn’t enough. So I figured the only thing left to do was become a nurse. It was the only thing left I could do to help people the way I wanted to.”

  “And why was helping people so important to you?”

  Peyton shrugged. “I just… I always wanted to be in medicine. I wanted to help people. I never really considered doing anything else.”

  “That, my dear, is the part of Shekinah that is in you,” Fate said. “That need to help people? That is the piece of Heaven that resides in your soul.”

  There was silence as Peyton considered Fate’s words. It still seemed ridiculous to her, but who was she to argue with Fate?

  “Okay,” Peyton said, not really knowing what to say. “Okay. So… I’m part Angel?”

  “Archangel, dear,” Fate corrected kindly.

  “It’s a lot to take in,” Darius said. “Take your time, if you need it.”

  Peyton nodded, looking down at the floor by Darius’ feet, not sure what to think or do or say anymore. She turned her gaze on the blue pool and stared into the shimmering light within its depths. Her first thought was to say both Fate and Darius were psychotic and that there was no way she was part Angel, or Archangel, or anything other that completely human, but she knew there was no point in arguing with them. Especially Fate. The way Peyton saw it, if anyone knew for sure what was what, it would be the being that knew absolutely everything about everyone.

  “So, what is it about Shekinah that makes me so important to Azrael?” Peyton asked.

  Darius explained. “Shekinah is the one who made it possible for human souls to gain entry to Heaven. That’s why it was her who helped Azrael transform me. Reapers need a part of her power to guide souls to the next world. She is the key. Her power is what attracts the good souls of humanity to Heaven. That power is dormant inside you. If Azrael gains that power and unlocks it…”

  “Then all the souls of humanity will go to him,” Fate finished, nodding.

  “He’ll become a God,” Darius whispered. “Countless souls, a continuous source of pure energy? He’ll be unstoppable.”

  “And that’s why he wants my soul?” Peyton asked. “So he can become the new God?”

  “Yes, dear,” Fate said. “So now you see why your choice is so important. Azrael has grown bitter over time, has come to hate humanity. He resents them for currying so much favor with Heaven. He does not want to be the Angel of Death, anymore. He wishes to return to Heaven. But not to bend on one knee and pay homage to the powers that be. He wants to rule. He will be a tyrannical deity. He will all but destroy the world.”