Marked for Vengeance (26 page)

“
Isaac!
”
she cried and whipped her head around to look directly at him. “What have you
seen?!”

The
car swerved, and she turned to face the road, the car wobbling as she corrected
it.

“We
will
die if you don’t pay attention,” he said jokingly, attempting to inject some
levity into their conversation.

“I’m
not kidding! What do you know?”

He
forced a smile on his weary face, its phony attempt to console her worries all
the more troubling. “Don’t worry. Everythin’ will be fine.”

“Don’t
you placate me,” she barked. “If you know something you better spill it!”

Her
shield bounced subtly, and she glared into the mirror.
He’s
laughing
?

“You
sure are cute when you’re mad.”

Alyx’s
glower broke, and she rolled her eyes. Her lips pressed together tightly to
keep from smiling.

“I
haven’t seen anythin’, Alyx. Let’s keep goin’ and see what happens.”

As
she wove around another stray car, he yawned, his eyes drooping. “I think I’ll
fall asleep again now whether I want to or not.”

She
suspected that his sudden surrender to his drowsiness was more than just that –
he conveniently avoided the subject. But she let him drift back off to sleep
anyhow; they had talked for a good half hour, and he needed his rest.

The
pain lifted as he drifted into a slumber, and she let out a deep sigh. The momentary
break was a relief for her also. She glanced at Micah’s picture again.
We’ll
find you, and I promise to keep your father alive.

* *
*

She
tapped the brakes to slow the car and turned onto the ramp for Highway 129
North. The pulling of the strings drew tight.
We must be getting close
.
As soon as the wheel straightened, she pressed the pedal to the floor and glanced
at the clock on the radio.
Nine forty-three
. It was a habit to look over
at it. The only real aid it gave was to remind her that time leisurely ticked
away. They only had a little more than two hours to get there.

The
quiet in the cab of the car allowed for her to assess her own condition now. Her
stamina slowly faded as the ‘light jog’ she had become accustomed to now wore
on her mind and body. Her heart still beat at a steady, accelerated pace, and
she drew in deeper breaths to accommodate or her head would spin. Frederick had
described to her what it was like to run marathons, and how the first few miles
were ‘easy’ as he barely noticed he was running. Around fifteen miles, he would
hit a metaphorical wall as fatigue set in. That was the point she was at now,
becoming worse for the wear but still well enough to trudge through, although
she had no choice but to anyhow.

To
steer her mind away from the growing discomfort, she thought back over her and
Isaac’s conversation; if he was
meant
to die, and if Micah was already.
His death to her would be devastating in more ways than one, however, death for
her
was never a frightening concept. She had already been through it
twice, both times a serene experience, leaving her human vessel in a slow fade
and ascending into the darkness from which she came. Her time there, in between
her lives on Earth were like long rests for her soul. Much like a dreamless
sleep, time was non-existent. Years appeared to be only a short amount of time,
mere hours. Her three hundred years in existence only felt like the eighty-four
that she had been alive on Earth.

Birth,
on the other hand, was a painful, disturbing event for her kind. Something she
would not miss in the least. She more than understood why human’s lives were
designed to begin as infants, the traumatic experience of being tossed into an unknown
environment erased from their memory as they grew. Their growing pains were
gradual until they reached the form they would stay in for the rest of their
lives. Angels were not so fortunate. Their abrupt and complete formation
demanded pain and agony, with every memory of it a permanently tattooed on
their psyche. They didn’t have the sweet fortune of entering the world as
humans did, their purpose requiring that they be ready to protect their Marked
at a moments notice.

She
wasn’t aware of how their places and covers within the world were prepared, but
never questioned it. They merely received a rundown of their prearranged lives
and were released to the Earth with all the essentials required, including
knowledge of current culture and mannerisms, fabricated stories of adolescence,
even phony college credentials and other qualifications needed to obtain a job.
Just as the Creator designed the intricacies of the universe, he also designed the
Angels’ places within the world to protect their true identities.

With
each descent, the world and society’s advancement never ceased to amaze her,
and this last stint of time was a little more than one hundred years; the
advancement of technology, women’s involvement with politics and voting. But as
remarkable as human evolvement was, it never fazed her. She adapted rather
quickly to her surroundings and into the role that she was given within the
world. After all, blending in would be extremely difficult without that
capability. That part of her angelic instinct wasn’t broken.

She
did wish, however, that she would have been able to protect everyone else that they
had left behind, the empty roads indicating that they had vanished as abruptly
as Micah had. Everyone she had come to love – Cindra, Frederick, Stacey, her
friends at work, even Moe and Agnosio – what were their final experiences?
Horrible, nightmarish images flashed through her mind as she imagined what they
must have gone through and where they were now. She had yet to see one human
body since she awoke from her apartment. She knew that her Marked’s role would
be to help in a larger mission of grave proportions, but her Elders never
mentioned what the “mission” was. She could only surmise that all of this had
to do with the invasion of these beasts.

She
had experienced first-hand the atrocities they were capable of, from what they
did to Isaac and what Benjamin looked like when she went to his condo. Tears
formed again as she thought of the race that she had known and loved her whole
existence, now seemingly obliterated in one day.

Three
lifetimes on Earth gave her a fondness for humans and an appreciation for all
of their challenges. Like what it meant to struggle with right and wrong, to be
tempted, to experience the joy of new life coming into the world and the pain
of losing it. What it meant to have friendships and bonds to others and to
truly value everything in creation. She loved living amongst them, watching
their downfalls and triumphs and experiencing some of her own. She now had a
deep connection to this world and all of its splendor.

While
it would never be the same, the thought of this being her final moments here
were truly heartrending. She didn’t understand how someone would want to wipe
out all of this intricately designed beauty, and hoped to get answers on the
other side of the gateway. She also hoped that the precious cargo that she was
responsible for could help make this right again and vindicate what was taken
and destroyed.

Perhaps
Isaac
was
right about Micah’s fate, but she would never tell him that, nor
allow him to continue to entertain that thought for even a moment. She wouldn’t
permit him to give up now. His determination was as imperative as hers.

Everything
depended on it.

CHAPTER
13:

The
Finish Line

Her
strings tugged them along Highway 129 until they pulled to the right onto
Highway 75, heading straight into the North Georgia Mountains. More empty cars lined
the road in each direction, an indication of the once more populated area.
Homes sprinkled along the narrow highway, set far back off the road with their
porch lights glowing through the darkness. Even though she felt certain that
nobody lingered inside them, to see some semblance of a civilization again
comforted her.

She
passed a grouping of small businesses beside the highway; a boiled peanut
stand, an old-fashioned farmers market with white wooden tables huddled under a
canvas tent, a log cabin where handmade soaps and candles were sold. Cars sat
idle inside the cabin’s dusty parking lot. The owners of them had possibly
stopped to buy some fragrant products when the beasts interrupted their ‘normal’
day.

A
green sign for a town named Helen whizzed by the window, and she realized her
strings were leading her to it. The small produce stands became businesses and
wineries, restaurants and gem mines. The road looped around a cabin rental
company and spit them into the heart of the town, whose architecture resembled
that of an alpine village, something she hadn’t seen since her days in Germany.
Standing humbly beside the road were restaurants, retail, and liquor stores
festooned with cream stucco and dark wooden beams and nestled between cobblestone
alley ways where gas lantern street lights invited her to explore.

She
pressed her foot on the brake as a speckled Clydesdale clomped toward them on
the main road with an empty buggy hitched to his sturdy body. His hooves
pounded against the concrete, a lonely sound that echoed between the buildings.
As he passed the car, her eyes locked to his, and he released an anxious bray,
visibly spooked – as he should have been. She watched in her side mirror as he
strode by and stomped on the gas again. The clock read ten forty one. Under
different circumstances, she would have loved to walk around and soak in the
replicated history, but of course time was of the essence. They only had a
little over an hour to get there.

She
couldn’t stay, but her mind flashed back through her time in Germany all those
years ago. It was the early seventeen hundreds, and her cover was that of a peasant
girl named Alyxandria who worked as a maid for an inn keeper in Berlin. He
allowed her to stay at his Asruhen Inn rent-free so long as she cleaned and
cooked for the guests. Her Marked was a local bank owner who made a generous
living for himself, his business only a few blocks away.

Her employer,
Dietrich Eberstark, would occasionally let her have a day or two off during the
week, and she would ride to the country in a buggy with her friend Kathrin – a
farmer’s daughter that she met one day while at the market. They visited her father’s
vineyard in Bernkastel-Kues, which Helen’s picturesque beauty reminded her of.
She still remembered the warm caress of the summer air as they rode through the
rolling green hills, Katherine’s brassy hair shimmering in the sunlight that shown
though the window of the buggy. They chatted for hours as they strolled through
the endless rows of tangled vines and would sometimes stop to eat the sweet,
warm grapes when their conversations about the local town gossip became animated.
Kathrin was one of her favorite acquaintances, probably because she was her
very first.

Her
lifetime there abruptly ended when her Marked passed away on a winter’s eve in
January of 1739. In the small kitchen of the Inn, she stooped over a pot of chowder
when her aging muscles grew weak, unable to keep her upright. She hobbled to an
old wooden chair in the corner of the room and slumped into it as the light
faded from her eyes, and her soul slowly lifted from her body.

She
always wondered how her death was explained to those close to her. Was it ruled
a heart attack? An aneurism? Or did the coroner file it away as an ‘unknown’
cause of death, leaving those behind with no closure at all? She regretted not
having a spare moment to say bye to her friend at least, but such are the woes
that death imparts.

During
her second lifetime in England, over a century later, her cover was that of a
house maid who worked for a wealthy Duchess. They had an amiable relationship,
although nothing like that of Kathrin or Cindra. One afternoon as she mended
her mistress’s petticoat before a banquet, weakness set into her body again,
and she knew what was about to happen. She called for the Duchess to say her
goodbyes, but was unable to get a glimpse of her before her spirit departed,
leaving her body an empty vessel on the bed.

It
pained her to imagine the suffering they must have endured, the emotions that
tormented their hearts; desperation, anguish, misery. Exactly how
she
felt now as Isaac’s soul was moments away from leaving his body, his light
slowly fading, as well.

The
town of Helen was fairly small, and they passed through within no time. A few
peanut stands and farmers markets later, the open road was the only thing to
keep them company. Larger mountains lay ahead, and she wished her new eyes were
able to witness their pretty shade of hazy blue, but of course the nighttime was
no friend to their majesty. The only way she could tell they existed was because
of the cabins that burrowed into their sides, their lights giving their exact
location away. Their twinkling resembled bright yellow stars, some as high as
what she imagined was the tallest peak, right beneath where the actual ones
would greet them on a clearer night.

As
they intruded further into the black foothills, she no longer paid attention to
the signs along the highway. The road now twisted and turned into tight
corkscrews, demanding her full attention. Nothing could have prepared her for
how trying this journey would be. Her attention was split into four different
directions with all of them to be equally focused. Isaac’s health, the shield,
the road, the strings. They all demanded her concentration, and yet, depleted
her energy as slowly as Isaac’s life left his fragile body.

To
her surprise, she felt him moving again. The constant swerving must have
jostled him awake. As his mind lifted from the sweet, numbing fog of sleep, his
condition jarred her senses. On top of her depleted energy, his gash throbbed
more aggressively against her back, and his spirit drooped like a weak, wilted
flower. She realized now that her role was more than just to carry him from
‘point A’ to ‘point B’; she was also to bear both of their burdened souls.

His
heart flickered as it skipped a gentle beat, and his eyes fixed on hers again
through the mirror. “So none of that was a dream,” he said with a slow breath,
attempting to be humorous through the pain.

Alyx
flashed a reassuring smile. “I’m afraid not.”

Underneath
her attempt at comfort, his dilapidated voice killed her spirit, indicating no
hope for a plateau, a chance for his condition to even out. It continued in a
sharp decline. When the beasts attacked him, they were out for blood. They wouldn’t
have stopped until they had claimed his last breath.

“Here,”
she said and passed the wallet back to him with her outstretched hand, figuring
he would want to have the pictures close to him. When he plucked it from her
hand, she noticed the bulky, gold ring circling his finger. The eagle, the
tree… she had seen this piece of jewelry somewhere before. “If you feel like
talking, do you mind if I ask where you got that ring?”

He placed
the wallet on the seat in front of his chest, unable to find the strength to
shove it inside his pocket, and drew in a breath so he could reply. “My dad,”
he panted. “Family heirloom.”

She
didn’t have to think too hard before the answer emerged from annals of her
memory. Her mind had already been to the past only moments before. “I’ve seen
that before on someone, on one of my past Marked.”

“
Past?
”

“Yes,
you haven’t been the only one. This is my third time here on Earth.”

 His
eyes widened. “Wow…” he whispered.

He
didn’t ask for her to continue, but she did anyhow so he wouldn’t be tempted
into wasting his precious breath. “I lived in England, in the late eighteen
hundreds, and staked out his home when him, and what I assumed was his wife,
descended down their stairs to get into a carriage. I noticed the ring on his
left hand that he used to grip his cane, and it looked
exactly
like that
one.”

Her
shield rose with his chest as he inhaled slowly, storing a lung full of air so
he could speak. “He must have been my relative.”

As
her car’s engine worked harder to go up the steep inclines, so did her the
wheels in her mind.
A relative?
Interesting.
Had she not been
assigned to random people, but to a bloodline? All of them prophets, maybe? As
intriguing as this was, she didn’t want to bother him with any more questions.
Any bit of energy he had left needed to be reserved for his body to hang on.

They
continued up the vertical, winding road for several minutes, and she noticed a
sign for a mountain named Brasstown Bald.

Brasstown
Bald.
Where had she heard of that before?

It
could have been from one of her library books or nature shows, but she recalled
that it claimed the highest point in Georgia with a summit elevation of roughly
four thousand feet.  On a clear day, the tallest buildings in Atlanta lifted
above the horizon. She had always wanted to visit, but not under these
circumstances.

The
higher they climbed into the thin air, his shallow breathing sounded more like
gasping. “Hang on for me!” she shouted over the struggling engine. “We’re
almost there, I just know it.”

“Why
didn’t- we fly?” he asked in short wheezes as the car jostled him around in the
back seat.

She
sensed his discomfort growing worse because of it, each turn aggravating his wound,
but there was nothing she could do. They
couldn’t
fly. Besides the
voices of the other Protectors warning her not to, it didn’t seem like
something that felt natural to her. She wouldn’t have the slightest clue how to
launch into the air. Another symptom of her broken instincts, perhaps. She
assumed what Isaac had, that she possibly
could
fly -- she was an angel
after all -- but tonight wasn’t the night to test that theory out. “I was
warned not to,” she replied. “I’m sorry about the rough driving.”

He
didn’t reply to her explanation and lay motionless in the quiet, his arms lying
limply beside him, loosely bouncing around when the car bumped or swerved. His
skin had lightened a few shades since the first time he awoke, and a
distressing shadow of deep blue underscored his sunken eyes. If she didn’t get
there soon, this might be it for him.

The
strings pulled her onto the road that spiraled up Brasstown Bald, and its
surface was thankfully a lot smoother than the one they had just turned off of.
She drove as quickly and as carefully as it allowed to spare them both any
further discomfort.

“Will
we- be gettin’- out of the car?” he asked.

Alyx
hadn’t thought of that. If they ran out of pavement, they would
have
to.
Her Civic was ill-equipped for off-roading. But she understood why he would be
worried, about what might be waiting for them when they got there. Her hand clinched
the steering wheel tighter. “Don’t worry. I won’t let them hurt you again.”

“At
my flat,” he said, persistent to push through a conversation, “you said- you’ve
seen what they are- capable of. Who else did they- hurt?”

“A
friend of mine, but it’s not important,” she replied. The last thing Isaac
needed was a gruesome visual of Benjamin’s death, which would only serve as an
example of what could be his fate and what had possibly been his son’s.       

“One
more- thing… when did you first see- the man in the black suit?”

By
his determination to continue speaking, she could tell there would eventually
be a point to all of his questions, but nothing came to mind. “It was a Friday,
on the elevator at work. Why?”