Reckoning (20 page)

“Sorry you had to come fetch me,” Gabriel apologizes.
 
“I lost track of time.”

“Not to worry,” Sias smiles.
 
His lips tremble slightly.
 
“Just glad to see you decided to stick around.”

Gabriel glances over at Sias.
 
“Did you think I would leave?”

He shrugs, the heavy robe rising and falling with his shoulders.
 
“You seemed to have a lot on your mind during your lessons today, but I hoped you would stay.”

“And what if I didn’t?”

Sias sighs heavily.
 
“You would be hunted.”

“By who?” Gabriel asks, knowing that he will only get the same frustrating answer he has for the past three days.
 

“You know I can’t tell you,” Sias reprimands.

“Yeah, I know,” Gabriel grinds out, “you’re not the one.”

“I know this is hard for you.”
 
Sias places a hand on Gabriel’s arm, struggling to reach around Gabriel’s bicep.
 
“I imagine you think I’m being cruel to withhold so much, but I am only doing this to protect you.
 
I only know bits and pieces.
 
If I were to try to explain-” he cuts off, his face drooping.

 
“I get it,” Gabriel stares down at Sias’ hand.
 
A symbol of how far they have come since he arrived, unconscious and drugged.
 
Kidnapped from Roseline’s arms.
 
He shudders at the reminder.
 
“I will wait, but I can’t promise I will be patient.”

Sias grins.
 
“I don’t expect you to be.
 
Which is why, tonight, I am pairing you up with Ordin in the ring.
 
I thought you might like to work off some of that tension on him.”

Gabriel laughs.
 
“Sounds great.
 
I’ll try not to hurt him…too much.”

Their shoes slap against the floor as they head for the kitchen.
 
Gabriel can already hear Ordin swearing like a trooper from within.
 
“I thought you monks were supposed to be holy and all that.”

“Yes,” Sias laughs.
 
“Some of us struggle with that more than others.”
 
He turns at the sound of approaching footsteps.
 
They echo through the corridor, picking up speed as they draw near.
 

“Ortuh, how nice to see you,” Sias calls as the tall man, who sports a slight paunch around the middle, runs up.
 
“The stew smells divine this evening.
 
Did you help to prepare it?

 
The new arrival glances nervously at Gabriel.
 
“I was just on my way to find you.
 
May we have a word in private?”

Sias follows Ortuh’s pointed gaze.
 
The corners of his eyes pinch for a brief second.
 
“Why don’t you go on ahead and wash up for dinner?
 
I will join you in a moment.”

Gabriel slips past, but not before noting the sheen on Ortuh’s forehead.
 
Having spent the past hour laboring in the galley kitchen, he was sure to have a rise in temperature, but his pulse should not be
that
elevated.

Something is going on.

Rushing down the hall, barely restraining from a full out run, Gabriel determines who his dinner partner shall be tonight- Enael, the most pathetic liar Gabriel has ever met.

Chapter 21

Roseline chews on her lip, glancing around at her friends.
 
Nicolae looks just as lost as she does.
 

“The Guardians?
 
Is that supposed to mean something to us?” Fane asks, openly glaring at Malachi.

Fierce disappointment jabs between Roseline’s ribs.
 
As Vladimir’s right hand man for so many years, Roseline had hoped he might have heard something about them.
 
“You mean it doesn’t?”
 

His gaze softens as he reaches out a hand to her. She takes a calming breath at his reassuring touch.
 
Malachi perches on the edge of the couch, forcing Fane to rear back away from him.
 
Fane wrinkles his nose, as if smelling a foul odor.
 
“They are the chosen few who protect the secret of Arotas.”

Nicolae slips to the edge of his seat. “I’ve heard that name before. Sorin spoke of it.”

Their host turns swiftly to regard Nicolae.
 
“You know Sorin Funar?”

“Knew,” his face falls, “he was my uncle.”

Malachi clears his throat, mumbling his apologies.
 
“There are some, spanning the globe, who know of the prophecy.
 
Bits of it, mind you.
 
Only a handful knows it in its entirety.”

Roseline grips Fane’s hand as excitement brews in her stomach.
 
Surely, this is what she has been looking for, the answer as to why Gabriel was stolen from her.

“Sorin was one of those?” Nicolae asks.

“Yes,” Malachi smiles tightly, “but he only knew enough to get himself killed.”

“We think Vladimir knows of the prophecy as well.” Roseline adds.
 

“Indeed.”
 
Malachi pauses to brush a fleck of lint from his impeccable suit.
 
“And that is why he sent Davros to find you.
 
Most likely, by now, he has put two and two together about Gabriel.
 
You both disappeared within a few hours of each other.
 
It is only logical to assume you are together.”

“So what’s this all got to do with the kid?” Fane asks, wrapping his arm protectively around Roseline’s shoulders.
 
She burrows into his side.

“Everything,” Malachi replies, spinning to his feet.
 
“Gabriel had markings, did he not?”

“Yes,” Roseline whispers, “two halves of a cross on his forearms.
 
They…they glowed.”

Malachi nods, hurrying to a bookcase that spans from floor to ceiling on either side of the stone fireplace.
 
His fingertips glide across the leather book bindings.
 
A musty scent gently wafts into the air as Malachi selects one.

He cradles the book to his chest, as if holding a loved one.
 
“Gabriel is not just a part of the Arotas prophecy,” he pauses to look at Roseline.
 
“He
is
Arotas.
 
The one destined to restore balance to the world, or so the rumors say.”

Fane swallows a snort as Roseline turns to glare at him.
 
“Sorry,” he mutters lamely.
 
“It’s just that I can’t see the kid as being some brave doomsday slayer or whatnot.”

“Of course,” Malachi states icily at Fane, “that is because he has not faced the trials yet.”

“What trials?” Roseline stiffens.
 
She does not like the sound of that.

Malachi grimaces, caressing the book in his hands.
 
“That is where the details become a tad hazy.
 
No one actually knows what they are or even when they will happen.
 
There are some who believe they are a rite of passage.
 
Others speculate that it is a test of character.
 
Either way, Gabriel must pass all three.”

“And if he doesn’t?”
 
Fane asks, rubbing his hands along Roseline’s arms.
 
She shivers as a sudden chill seems to permeate the air.

“Chaos,” Malachi replies.
 

“And what’s in that book?” Nicolae asks, nodding his head at Malachi’s selection.

Malachi hesitates, the hard set of his jaw betraying his indecision.
 
“Answers, some of which you might not be ready to accept just yet.”

Roseline jerks out of Fane’s grip.
 
“Will it help Gabriel?”

“Perhaps, but I believe it is more crucial for
you
to know,” he replies, staring deeply into her eyes.
 

Her throat constricts.
 
This is it.
 
The moment of no return.
 
Whatever Malachi has in that book will forever change her life.
 
Roseline clenches her fists to her stomach, fighting a wave of nausea.
 

“Do it,” she grunts, bending low to avoid meeting Malachi’s eyes.
 

“And you?” He turns toward Fane.
 

She hears his adam’s apple bob, but his voice is strong when he replies.
 
“If it will help Roseline, then I’m in.”

“Well, you know I am,” Nicolae pipes up.

“Very well.”
 
Malachi moves to stand in a prominent view before the fireplace.
 
“The Arotas monks are a secret sect that was formed centuries before your births.
 
At the beginning of time.”

He pauses to let his words sink in.
 
Nicolae leans forward.
 
“Do you mean like Day one sort of thing?”

“Oh no,” Malachi laughs, shaking his head, “I mean after man was already on the Earth, but not long after.”

Fane stiffens.
 
Roseline’s brow furrows as her gaze averts to question him, but he shakes his head and turns his attention back to Malachi.

“Take a look at this.”
 
Malachi dips low, opening the front cover of the book.
 
There is not a title.
 
Glancing up at the bookshelves, Roseline notices for the first time that none of them is engraved with a title.
 
All are the same color, texture and size.
 

“How did you know to pick this one?” she inquires, reaching out to touch the stiff paper.
 
No, not paper.
 
Papyrus.

Malachi’s eyes light with admiration.
 
“That is a secret.”

Each person leans in to take a closer look at the page.
 
The words are written in a tight script, nearly spilling from the edge.
 
Nicolae frowns.
 
“I don’t recognize this language.”

“Indeed,” Malachi smiles, “this language is no longer spoken on Earth.”

Fane snorts.
 
“Really?
 
You’re going with aliens on this one?”

“Don’t be daft,” Malachi reprimands, “aliens do not exist outside of books.
 
The race which I speak of is angelic in nature.”

Roseline’s eyes widen with surprise.
 
“You’re talking about God?
 
From the Bible?”

He tips his head.
 
“In a sense, yes, but more specifically about the battle between the Fallen and the Redeemed.”

“I’m not following you,” Nicolae speaks up, pointing to the picture adorning the top of the page.
 
“How can cute little cherubs have anything to do with Gabriel?”

“My dear boy,” Malachi gasps, offended, “you insult the very name of Angel.
 
They are not fat little babies who lie around on silvery clouds all day long, strumming harps.
 
They are warriors, more fierce than your precious hunters.”

Roseline cuts off Nicolae’s fierce protest.
 
“What does this have to do with Gabriel?”

“I’m getting to him.” Malachi flips to the center of the book.
 
“This is
The Fall of the Damned
, painted by Peter Paul Rubens in 1620.
 
What can you see?”

Fane leans in close.
 
“I assume the answer you are looking for is angels falling from Heaven.”

“On the contrary, I was hoping your keen mind could look beyond the obvious.” Malachi casts him a disparaging glance.
 
“Apparently not.”

Roseline hides her smirk behind her hand as she studies the picture.
 
“Hatred.
 
Darkness.
 
Turmoil.”

“Exactly.” Malachi beams, looking as if he might pat her on the back for her insightful answer, “This was a tragic time in Earth’s history.
 
Legions of angels were cast out of Heaven, cursed to walk the Earth until the end.”

“End of what?” Nicolae asks.
 

“Of the world, of course,” Malachi snaps.

“Oh,” Nicolae smiles weakly, “is that all?”

“Indeed.”
 
Malachi’s face pinches with disapproval.
 
He turns back to Roseline.
 
“What would you say if I were to tell you that everything you know about your immortal brethren is wrong?”

Roseline frowns, shifting uncomfortably.
 
“That’s a pretty bold statement to make.”

“Bold, but true, nevertheless.
 
Humans call you vampires.
 
You call yourselves immortal, for that is a basic definition of what you are, but that isn’t the whole picture.”
 
Malachi’s voice drops so low even Roseline struggles to hear him.
 
“You are from among the celestial beings.”

“Angels?” Roseline gasps.

“Alright, that’s it,” Fane rises quickly, upturning the book onto the floor.
 
“I’ve heard about all I can take from you.
 
Let’s go.”
 
He holds out his hand to Roseline, but she hesitates.
 
A part of her wants to throw up her hands and leave Malachi and his crazy beliefs behind, but a part of her feels drawn to him, to his tale.
 
What if…

She turns to face Malachi.
 
“Can you prove what you say?
 
That we are something more than we think we are.”

He dips his head.
 
“Yes, if you will give me the chance.”
 

Her mind tells her to hop into Nicolae’s car and floor it, but she cannot make herself move.
 
She turns to Fane.
 
“I’m sorry.
 
I can’t leave.”

Fane’s shoulders droop.
 
“You want to stay here, with him?
 
He’s lying to you.”

“Perhaps,” she nods in agreement, wholeheartedly hoping that Malachi is not playing a sick joke on them, “but I can’t take the chance that he’s not.
 
I have to find Gabriel and if this is what it takes, then I’m staying here.”

Fane sighs, glancing at Nicolae.
 
“What about you?”

Nicolae brushes his hair back out of his face.
 
He still looks a tad confused by the new information but shrugs.
 
“I promised Roseline I would help her search for Gabriel.
 
If this is where she chooses to be, then I’m sticking around too.”