Authors: Marianne Curley
The dark forces come to the house almost every night, and each time Gabriel chases them back to their ‘base’ – no longer caves around Alice Springs, but a variety of sheltered areas like caves and abandoned cottages on and around Mount Bungarra. They still move incredibly fast and have not yet adapted to moving in daylight hours, but he thinks that too will come in time.
At least for now this gives Jordan and me the freedom to be ‘normal’ teenagers during the day. I need this time, and I’m pretty sure Jordan does too. He’s more miserable than ever lately, and whatever I try doesn’t seem to help.
Gabriel is working on a plan to trap the dark forces inside one of their habitats. To help him he has enlisted soldiers from the military unit he commands. Sometimes he brings two angels to the house with him. One is his brother Jerome, the other a beautiful female named Samarial, who has amazing light-coloured eyes with just a hint of aqua, and a head of silver curls she trims every day.
I always know when the angels have had a difficult night: reports of destruction make headlines the following morning. Last week, a farmer from my old valley neighbourhood had a chunk of his cornfield destroyed. He told a reporter it was as if a herd of elephants had trampled the patch. Two nights ago, the Wheelers, who own a restaurant in Mount Bungarra’s village centre, had both their guard dogs stuck in mud up to their ears after chasing four intruders into the forest. Mr Wheeler said the intruders moved ‘faster than lightning’. Both dogs survived, but only because angels pulled them out and blew their airways clear.
When I return from my morning ride, I get ready for school and head down to the kitchen. Gathered around the dining table and digging in to a big dish of vegetable paella, Jerome, a slimmer, darker-haired version of his brothers, waves me over. ‘This is awesome, Ebony. I love your cooking.’
Though it’s still early, I’m surprised to see them here. I’ve grown used to their night-time comings and goings. I pour myself some muesli and juice and join them in the dining room. ‘How did it go last night?’
Sami, as she has asked us to call her, sets her coffee down with long slender fingers and perfectly manicured nails. ‘It was like we were chasing silver laser beams and never quite catching up.’
Gabriel explains, ‘They’re not slowing down, though their stench is reducing.’
‘You can still smell them coming from far away.’ Sami shudders, and curls flop down over her eyes. Jerome leans across to tuck them behind her ear and smile at her. She smiles back lovingly, her eyes only for him.
Gabriel groans. ‘Oh, come on, you two. Anyone would think you were newly-weds.’
‘How long have you been married?’ I ask.
Gabriel’s chest rumbles with laughter. I don’t understand why until Jerome turns his head to me and says, ‘Three hundred and seventy-two years, eleven months and fifteen days.’
‘What, no hours?’ Sami chides, running her hand over his thigh with a mischievous grin on her face. She leans in to him, and in the blink of an eye he lifts her out of her chair and on to his lap so she ends up straddling him, her long legs dangling down each side of his hips.
Gabriel clears his throat.
‘Sorry, you two,’ Sami cries out while scooting back into her seat.
‘That’s OK. I’m sorry to spoil the, um, moment.’ I snag my lower lip into my mouth and bite down to stop from thinking this should be Nathaneal and me. I give myself a mental shake. ‘I was just wondering . . . the dark forces seem capable of changing form and multiplying almost at will. Sometimes they’re angels, sometimes humans. Now there are four. What happens if their smell disappears completely and they end up blending in with human beings in large numbers?’
I can’t help fearing the possibility that they could assimilate into communities around the world. ‘How would you find them?’
Gabriel reassures me: ‘We won’t let that happen, Ebony.’
They finish eating and clean up after themselves. I tell them not to worry about the dishes, but they insist. Once they stack and switch on the dishwasher they leave. At the front door Gabriel gives me a lingering look filled with regret. It’s the same one every time, two fingers tapping his forehead in a kind of salute.
25
We stop to make camp in the early hours of each third morning, packing up and taking flight again at dawn, hoping to avoid running into any dark angels, demons, aggressive beasts and hostile souls that patrol or roam Skade’s less hospitable countryside.
My team of seven is the strongest I could make and I’m thankful the court gave me leeway to select my own members. I would of course go nowhere without Michael, the greatest warrior Avena has, commander of all our armies for three thousand years, presently taking time off to be my bodyguard, for want of a better description. He is always my first choice.
Then there is Isaac, who was my mentor, teacher and friend for all the years we searched together for Ebony.
Jez was my next pick. The two of us were born in the same town and grew up together, sustaining a strong friendship. But I selected her for this mission not because we’re friends, and not only because she is skilled in seven different combat techniques and proven in battle, but because of her amazing healing abilities, especially with humans.
I chose Uriel next. A captain of his own unit, Uri is like a brother to me. He is an outstanding warrior, ranking alongside Isaac and Michael. I could not anticipate conducting a mission such as this without such a powerful warrior on my team.
My final two members, Tashiel and Solomon, are non-Seraphim. Tash is from the Order of
Sensitives
. The smallest of the angelic orders, they are also visionaries, renowned for their accurate insights and predictions, but mostly for their communication skills across all species. And Sol, an extraordinarily strong warrior, on loan from the Order of Dominions, physically big soldiers with hearts rich in compassion. A Dominion would never kill for the sake of killing, as a Throne might. Sol’s presence is intrinsic to the success of this mission, with links to both Earth, in his Guardian work, and Skade, where, during his search and tracking missions, he has established informants who leak information to him through mind-links.
We cross three of Skade’s provinces, known to humans as continents, before we reach Mount Mi’Ocra – a volcano that has been extinct for the last hundred thousand years.
For a few hours now I have led my team in a gradual ascent, giving our lungs time to acclimatise to the thin, freezing air at this exceedingly high altitude. Usually our bodies tolerate extreme temperatures well, but Mount Mi’Ocra’s elevation can cause ice to build up on our wings and freeze them even while still in motion, creating the painful and slow-healing condition of wing-burn.
Finding a safe place to camp is becoming imperative. Since crossing the Magenta Sea, we have flown over numerous mountain ranges. Without even one of Skade’s moons visible tonight, and with an icy blue mist clinging to the cliffs below, it’s almost impossible to make out a suitable landscape.
The volcano that formed Mount Mi’Ocra erupted only once in its history – its birth. The eruption churned out sulphur, ash and magma for many centuries. As the vast amounts of molten rock cooled, rugged basalt ridges formed, with channels that led to surface vents from which endless streams of water and mud carved pathways, circumnavigating the volcano from top to bottom. These circling paths formed a maze. For thousands of years the Dark Prince used the maze to punish souls. There are stories of souls who spend unending years searching for an exit, or a loved one.
Flying in our usual arrow formation, the seven of us scour the snow-covered cliffs below for a suitable area wide enough to set up our camp of two tents.
Solomon, do you see anything?
Nothing yet, my honourable lord and prince.
Sol, must you?
Sorry, my prince. I mean . . . what am I supposed to call you? Sunshine?
Jez laughs bitterly.
I wouldn’t try that one, if I were you.
Thanks for the heads-up, beautiful.
Or
that
one on me,
she snaps, all humour voided.
Where did you learn your manners, soldier boy?
Excuse me, darling, for not attending that fancy-pants Seraphim School you all did. I’m just your regular low-life GA, blessed with a warrior’s body and endowed with tracking skills everyone wishes they had.
Michael makes a rare scoffing sound that erupts through the team’s mind-link as a bitter laugh.
There’s nothing low-life about having the soul of a human being in your care.
Thanks, Michael, but that only relates to Guardians who
don’t
fail.
That you still mourn your
one
loss shows the true quality of your heart, Solomon,
Michael says.
With hindsight we all have something in our pasts we would have handled differently. I know I have.
I really don’t want to stop this conversation, but finding a campsite soon is becoming vital.
Listen, everyone, I’m sorry to interrupt, but our immediate priority is finding a place to camp for a few hours before tackling the summit. I need you all to focus on this.
There
,
Solomon calls out a few minutes later,
the ledge at zero-two-hundred.
He indicates a mantel of rock wide enough to set up at least one tent, possibly both.
I’m pretty sure that’s a solid ledge.
To what degree of certainty does ‘pretty sure’ fall under?
Jez asks.
I’ve seen these cliffs in the warm season, babe,
Solomon says, risking his life with that last endearment.
Jez screeches through the link,
What did you just call me?
Trust me, my prince, under that snow is a mantel of solid rock. Sorry, Jez, I thought it rhymed with Soldier Boy.
Everyone laughs, except Jez, who grumbles. Usually in this mood she would fling her shining black hair around, suffocating any male within sniffing range of the scent her hair puts out.
Isaac gets us back on track.
I think Sol’s right, Thane. That ledge looks as if it’s a side shoot from the main maze.
But if we camp in the maze,
Uri says,
wouldn’t we be vulnerable to dog attack?
Wherever we camp on this mountain we’re vulnerable to wild dogs,
Michael remarks.
We haven’t encountered any yet, but their reputation is that of fierce, three-headed fighting machines that flourish on living flesh – when they can get it, and when they can’t they make do with the flesh of the souls that have the misfortune of being sent to live here. Living flesh sends them into a frenzy. With luck, this blizzard weather will make them reluctant to leave their snug dens.
Take the lead, Solomon.
He nods as he flies past me. Once in position, he banks right and slows our pace. To move too fast could shift a snow bank and cause an avalanche, threatening all kinds of creatures living in side caves and tunnels.
But Solomon guides us with expert precision, allowing just enough of his own glow to show the way.
26
Lately, I seem to be hearing bad news or no news at all, so I’m not sure what to expect as I walk into school on Tuesday morning and Mr Zavier hails me over wearing a big cheesy grin. Amber has her ear buds in, listening to some new songs from our favourite band while texting, and doesn’t notice. But on my other side, Jordan does, and mumbles, ‘Wonder what he wants.’
‘My soul?’
‘Huh! When did you start believing you had one?’
‘From my dreams,’ I answer honestly.
Otherwise, how can I see the things Prince Luca shows me?
Jordan is still staring, so I shrug and brace myself as Mr Zavier wades through a group of Year Eights to get to me.
By now, Mr Zavier doesn’t bother being secretive about our connection. He tells anyone who will listen, including my entire Physics class (who have no choice but to listen) and pleads with me almost every other day to call him
Uncle
Zavier, not
Mr
.
But I won’t. I can’t. It doesn’t feel right.
So now the whole school knows how Mum and Dad adopted me after their own infant died, and that Mr Zavier is looking for my biological father.
‘Ebony, I have news you’re really going to want to hear,’ he calls out. ‘Come down to my office right away.’
I grab Amber and Jordan. When the three of us get to his office, two other science teachers are busy at their desks, so he takes us to the library where we wait in the foyer while he checks the vacancy of a conference room.
‘This way. Come on. Hurry, people, I have a class first period.’
He unlocks the door to a dark room with blinds drawn, flicking on fluorescent lights as we walk in. The room is bare of furniture except for a whiteboard fixed to the wall at one end, a single desk and computer chair at the other.
Mr Zavier walks over to the desk and rests his butt on it. Still grinning, he says, ‘Ebony Hawkins, today is the day.’