Conquer the Dark (15 page)

Azrael pushed the top
bunk up to close it, then sat down hard on the bottom bunk next to Celeste. With both elbows on his knees, he hung his head and stared
at the floor. Her hand rubbing his back made him close his eyes.

“I am no good at this,” he admitted quietly. “I have no skill in this realm of healing humanlike emotions. In the ether, we do not have such gut-wrenching pain. When fighting as a warrior, there is just the battle, the demon killing—at least that was how it had been.” He allowed his head to drop into his hands. “It is all so different now and good men are suffering … and I am powerless.”

She leaned her cheek against his shoulder. “You are being taught the human condition, Azrael. This is the heart of it all. Knowing we are powerless over so much, and yet we hold great power over how we process our reaction to events. We can decide to live or decide to die from grief or heartbreak. We can decide to shut down or to move forward, even when we don’t like the circumstances or the hand we’ve been dealt. We can choose to do the right thing, to be in the Light, even if everything around us is dark and scary and stronger than we are. We can choose to die for a righteous cause, rather than survive an unjust one. You taught me that. Keep talking to Isda when he’s ready to hear you. If every brother holds him up and supports him through his dark night of the soul, he’ll eventually come out on the other side of that tunnel whole and stronger for the experience.”

Azrael slowly sat up and draped an arm over her shoulder. “You have the wisdom of the healing angels. The feminine energy of the higher realms, Celeste. I won’t give up on my brother.”

She kissed his cheek. “Good, because you didn’t give up on me and I was a basket case when you met me.”

He turned and looked at her. “You were a survivor. Demons had beset your human heart and human soul … and had so abused you.”

“And I could have chosen to live or die, and the night you found me I was at the end of my rope. I had decided to die. Then you made me see what a gift I was throwing away. As hardened as I was to the message, you were relentless.” She touched the side of his face and smiled softly. “Isda will hear you, just maybe not tonight. Patience.”

“Now you sound like Gavreel.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant as one,” Azrael said, gently brushing her mouth with a kiss.

A light tap on the door made them both look up. Azrael stood and opened the door to see their smiling porter.

“I have brought dinner,” he said brightly, and then, without asking them, reached in and flipped down their trays. “Eat and call me when you are done.”

There wasn’t enough room to turn around without bumping into each other, so Azrael simply sat and accepted the cellophane-covered trays that contained a 98 percent starch meal.

“Thank you, sir,” Azrael said pleasantly, then raised an eyebrow as he stared at what had been left for them as their dinner.

White-flour rolls, cheap processed butter, some sort of highly processed chocolate and white-sugary-iced cupcake, processed mango drink, hard white rice, and a vegetable medley of zucchini and squash in tomato sauce, complete with a small wet nap and plastic tableware.

“I think we should give this back to him,” Azrael said, inspecting the platter without removing the plastic and looking at it from all angles as if he were a forensic specialist. “Not that I am ungrateful, and I know there are people in the world who are starving, thus I will not waste it. But …”

“Yeah, I think we should stick to the organic fruit and nuts and water in your backpack, Az. I’ve still got snacks in my carry-on.” She picked up the trays and edged around Azrael. “I’ll return these. Let the porter blame it on the spoiled, fickle American chick,” she added with a wink. “See what you can rustle up in the bags and I’ll go see if anybody else wants to share what we’ve packed.”

Azrael pulled his body in as much as he could as they did an awkward dance for her to climb over the open tray rests, him, and the bed. Then she shimmied out of the tiny cabin with both trays still balanced. He chuckled and she was glad that he’d smiled.

“I’ve got skills, brother,” she said with a wink, then set off to find the porter.

He was at the end of the car dozing off in a little service room and appeared startled by her presence.

“Miss?” He stood, seeming embarrassed that she’d caught him sleeping. “You want a different dinner?”

“No, no, we’re fine. We’re just really more sleepy than hungry. It’s been a long day … so we do not want to waste this—I mean, we haven’t even touched it.”

The man smiled and quickly accepted the dinners from her. “Are you sure? Because they count them, you know.”

“Yes, I’m sure. You can have them.”

“You are so generous, miss. Thank you.” He glanced around and set the trays aside. “I will not knock on your door until tomorrow morning.” He bowed and gave her a knowing smile. “You are a new wife, yes?”

Celeste laughed, finally catching his meaning, not having the heart to tell him that she wasn’t exactly a wife yet. “I am new” was all she said, and that seemed to please the man even more.

“A new wife is a wonderful thing,” he said, clasping his hands together. “
Sleep
well.”

“Thank you … you, too,” she said, leaving him to think whatever he wanted.

Celeste laughed to herself as she navigated the swaying corridor. As bone-weary as she was and as badly as she wanted a shower to wash camel funk, sarcophagus dust, and pyramid grime off her, the last thing she was thinking about was jumping Azrael’s bones. True passion had already happened back at Le Meridien before demons had attacked them and drama occurred in the desert. Sheesh.

But thinking about that frenzied, intense lovemaking session, which had ended in Azrael’s apology, made her hug herself as she walked back to the room. He’d said he
really
messed up—oh, God. If his intentions had gotten muddled and he hadn’t firmly put it in his mind that he wasn’t trying to make her pregnant as in the last few months … aw … man. And it wasn’t as if she could be mad at the man. She wasn’t exactly diligent herself, and that’s what he’d told her it required, both parties setting their intentions not to have that happen.

They needed to talk about this more, but not on the
verge of the frickin’ Armageddon—or the 2012 precursor to Armageddon, or whatever it was. Then again, if she wanted to be really philosophical about the matter, if they lost the big cosmic war, then it was all over and they had to kiss their asses good-bye anyway. A moot point. If they won … One thing for sure, worrying about it was not going to change the outcome, and at the moment, as Aziza had said, there were way bigger issues at hand.

“Gonna hit the ladies’ room,” she said as she passed their room.

“I found cashews, too,” he said, not turning around, thoroughly engrossed in his foraging project. “And the sink in here is broken, just so you know.”

She kept it moving and tried to relax, and did, as soon as she saw Maggie standing at the end of the car waiting on the bathroom.

Maggie was leaning against the window with both hands, staring out into the starry night. As Celeste approached, she looked up and pushed her dark hair over her shoulder.

“Did the porter tell you guys to turn off your car lights after you ate and to keep the blinds closed?”

“No, not yet,” Celeste said, frowning.

“Yeah, well, he was talking to us when he dropped off our so-called dinner and kinda warned us about bandits and angry locals that sometimes
shoot at the train
.” Maggie grabbed Celeste by both arms. “Do you hear me?”

“Are you serious?” Celeste just stared at Maggie for a moment. “Damn, that so reminds me of home.”

After a couple of seconds, both women burst out laughing. The circumstances were so absurd that the
sarcastic quip was the tension-buster they both needed.

“In Colombia, too—so what am I worried for?” Maggie waved Celeste away.

“Hey, as long as it’s a twenty-two, then what? If they don’t hit this train with an RPG shell, it’s all good.” Celeste shrugged and slumped against the wall.

Maggie shook her head. “It’s all good,” she repeated, sounding resigned as her laughter ebbed.

“You tell Mellie yet?”

Maggie smiled. “No, and a land mine won’t disturb her right now … let love reign.”

“In here? Really?” Celeste closed her eyes and laughed quietly. “I am so not hating, but damn.”

“Apparently they missed their window back at the hotel because Paschar was following Isda’s order to the letter to be downstairs in forty-five minutes. You know how he is, exacting … so, Paschar was really having a difficult time leveling off after the battle—that’s why I came out here to put some water on my face,” Maggie said with a wink. “They were bouncing our suitcases off the shelf. Gotta be standing up against the wall, but that’s none of my business.”

Celeste covered her mouth and laughed hard behind her hand. “Oh, my God … where’s Gav?”

“In the bar with Isda and BK.” Melissa giggled and bit her lip. “Did you ever expect your life to go like this?”

“Not in a million years, sis.”

“Me either,” Aziza said, exiting the bathroom and entering their conversation without missing a beat.

The older woman’s normally calm mother-wisdom façade seemed beyond rattled. She clutched a handful
of natural soap, a washcloth, lotion, natural hand sanitizer, wipes, and recycled toilet paper against her petite breasts.

“Here,” she said, thrusting the toilet paper toward Maggie. “There’s none in there, the soap is barbaric, and you cannot sit down in there—I forbid it. The bacteria in there is … is … there are no words. The food and filth are just beyond comprehension.”

Celeste went to Aziza and hugged her. “Queen Mother, it’s going to be all right.”

“It’s
not
going to be all right. I told BK things have inexorably changed. I need a shower to think. Clean air to breathe—this is recycled smoke. My chi is unbalanced here and my chakras are spinning in the wrong direction. This food
is poison
.”

“Breathe, sister,” Celeste said, still hugging Aziza as Maggie slipped into the bathroom with a wink. “We have wholesome food in our room to share with everyone.”

“I was never supposed to be drawn into any of this,” Aziza said, swallowing hard and finally melting against Celeste. “I had a life, friends, a spa, a routine. This nomad existence and army-barracks conditions with angels … I didn’t sign up for this, not this time around. I was a priestess!”

When Aziza began to weep, her delicate shoulders shaking with each shuddering inhale, Celeste simply rubbed her back.

“You remember being here in another life, don’t you?”

Aziza nodded slowly and released a heavy sigh. “I may be a full-blooded human, but my third eye is wide-open. I remember all my significant past lives—and they were
all spent with BK. The one from here … it’s sooo hard. In the king’s chamber it all started coming back the more Isda became unglued. I remember that I got trapped in one of the temples as Romans razed it. I was trying to save sacred scrolls. BK was trying to get his men not to burn that one temple I was in, but in the mayhem of battle they did before he could stop them.” She shrugged and pulled back to look at Celeste with kind, wise eyes. “Then I saw a red glow in the corner of the ceiling and set my attention there as the smoke rose. The next thing I remember was being a part of the rising smoke and flowing up and up and out. It didn’t hurt; I was not in my body. I could see BK on the ground reaching toward me sobbing. And then I was gone.”

Celeste folded Aziza’s hands within her own to feel and absorb her sister’s pain. Pangs of regret at not being able to save a sacred sight almost made Celeste cover her heart. Hurt and fury collided with true terror for one’s own safety, and a long wail crawled up her spine, a wail that cried out for salvation from the horror of being overrun by foreign invasion. Then hopelessness set in, followed by resignation. The overwhelming sense of powerlessness put tears in Celeste’s eyes.

“It was terrible,” Aziza murmured.

Celeste hugged her. “I know and I am so sorry.”

“Thank you,” Aziza replied hoarsely. “But that was a long time ago.”

Peace slowly reclaimed Aziza’s countenance as she swallowed hard and wiped her cheeks with the backs of her graceful hands, her beautiful eyes sparkling now from the sudden cleansing. “This is a hard place for many of us
to return to. You have a story here, too, sister. It just hasn’t resonated within you to remind you of it yet. But thank you. I feel better and can probably sleep for a bit.”

“If you need me,” Celeste said, hugging her again, “I am there for you. I love you.”

“I know that, and that’s why I love you, too.”

J
ust having the opportunity
to put water on her face and wash her hands felt good, despite the deplorable conditions of the bathroom. True, as Aziza had said, a nice hot shower, a change of clothes, and a decent meal followed by some real sleep would have been the cherry on top—but given that they hadn’t been eaten by hell-sent scorpions or serpents, everything was relative.

Celeste walked down the hall under the flickering train light looking out at the blue-black horizon. A part of her wished they could just go out and see what a sky looked like without city-light pollution.

When she entered their room, Azrael was lying on the bottom bunk on his side propped up on one elbow, sans Tshirt, sneakers, or socks, wearing only his black jeans and munching on an apple with a bag of open cashews and a bottle of water in front of him. His eyes were closed and
his long locks spilled over his muscular chest and shoulders while he methodically chewed. Even under the worst conditions the man was breathtaking.

Not opening his eyes, he patted the side of the bed and slid over as much as was possible to give her a sliver of it to lie down on.

“Close the door and turn off the light,” he said in a calm rumble.

“I smell like camel and—”

“As did I until I took off my shirt.”