Page 11 of Rekindled Prophecy

Well, it did not take much to recall that disaster …

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Paris, France – the City of Lights – was far from that on June 14, 1793.

A few months earlier, the French king had met a terrifying fate beneath the cold steel of the guillotine. His wife and son were currently awaiting their fate in the Conciergerie – formerly part of the royal palace, the Palais de la Cite, now the main penitentiary holding anyone accused of being a counterrevolutionary.

The country was in serious upheaval, with the stakes being the very survival of the French people. The radical Jacobins had just seized power from the more moderate Girondins at the National Convention. With their ascent, a ten-month period of horror commenced under the leadership of the charismatic Robespierre. Years later, this became known asThe Reign of Terror, or “La Terreur”.

Unfortunately for the French citizens, Robespierre had quite a lot of help from all the wrong people. His right-hand man, a tall, dark, mysterious man whose very presence caused men’s hearts to quake in fear, and women to scream with desire, led the French leader down a destructive path that would almost end the very country he proclaimed he was meant to save.

Robespierre’s greed and his unquenchable thirst for power opened the door to the very man who could give it to him: Kael O’Shea, known to the French people as Monsieur Kalman Ocaliot. It was rumored that Robespierre had not so much as blinked when he handed over his soul in exchange for political dominance.

A mob converged in the square to hear the latest proclamations from the draconian Committee of Public Safety headed by Robespierre himself. After instituting several radical measures to control the populace, today marked the day when Christianity was to be banned from the entire country. As a prelude to the announcement, the crowd awaited their new form of entertainment: the execution of twenty enemies of the revolution. The crime? Not agreeing with Robespierre and his compatriots.

On that oppressively humid day in the crumbling capital of Paris, Greylyn stood face to face with the evil guardian for probably the tenth time that century. He had been a pain in her neck for quite a while as he popped up from time to time causing mischief and worse. This, quite possibly, qualified as being the absolute most evil of them all.

Greylyn glared at the man she held responsible for it all. She and Jasper had arrived too late to stop the execution of the king or the takeover by the Jacobins. Of French royal blood, Jasper had been beside himself when the news reached them in England. The handsome guardian angel vowed to right the wrongs in his homeland. As his best friend, she had jumped at the chance to help him.

Electric pulses from the dark guardian’s stare assailed her body. He stood above the square, looking quite debonair in his embroidered and beaded silk coat and matching knickers. Now, all she wanted to do was rip out his blackened heart, preferably in front of all these people. If the mob wanted blood, they should take his.

A slight tap on her shoulder alerted her that Jasper had arrived. What he had been up to while she waited for the bloody show to begin was a mystery. He insisted he had his own business to contend with; otherwise, she would have gladly sucker-punched him in the gut for making her wait.

Time was wasting. If they did not act soon, all those pathetic-looking people standing behind the executioner’s platform would meet grisly fates. Most were formerly a part of the elite, or particularly devout Christians. With their finery tattered, smeared with their own blood from countless hours of torture, they did not even have the strength for tears or cries for mercy. The only thing standing between these sad souls and the razor-sharp edge of the guillotine blade were two guardian angels hidden in the throng of bystanders waiting for the main attraction.

Jasper leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Soon, mon cherie.” Strangely, eyes still locked on Kael, Greylyn sensed the dark guardian’s rising anger, a tightening in her chest. His fists clenched and flexed at his side.How is that possible?

She vowed that she would never get used to the way her body reacted to him, how she could feel his emotions without a word said between them. Based on Jasper’s disgusted response whenever they were confronted with the fiend, she had chosen to not fill him in on this tiny matter. Never in their entire friendship had she kept a secret from him…except for this one thing. Most days she would not even admit it to herself. There was an inexplicable connection between herself and the dark guardian. Jasper would never understand, nor should he.

The plan? Well, there was no real plan to rescue the group of prisoners as their crimes against France were read aloud for everyone to hear. Perhaps Jasper had something in mind, but he was not sharing.

The low growl he uttered just behind her radiated from his chest and into her own. There could be only one reason for that. He saw the master of this diabolical catastrophe. It was his typical reaction to Kael sightings. Now that the sinister manipulator had invaded his country, there was no telling what Jasper would do to him. Come to think of it, Greylyn wanted a front row seat to that show.

Without taking his burnt-umber eyes off her, Kael spoke to the man beside him, the notorious Maximilien Robespierre, with his powdered wig making him appear several inches taller than he actually was. Decked out in the best French clothes suitable for an advocate for the poor and downtrodden, a cover for his more nefarious inclinations for political power, he was unmistakably the key to the success of the Jacobin ideology.

At first, Robespierre did not appear extremely comfortable with the scene before him. His face was screwed up in an anxious scowl, his lips thin, his complexion pale, and his hands fidgeted with the hems of his lacey sleeves. With just a few words from his very own devil’s advocate, his countenance changed. He even smiled as the last names of the condemned were read out.

“Got a plan or are we just going to stand here like sheep?” she muttered under her breath to Jasper. The tall, elegant warrior for Heaven had the audacity to shush her.

“Just wait, darling. Just wait.” She marveled at how he could be so stoic and composed at a time like this. He was usually much more of a hothead. The situation was usually reversed. When he had first heard the news of what was happening in his home country, he had torn apart an entire demonic brothel and laid a brutal beat-down on the humans enjoying the festivities that night. But she knew, any sense of calm he presented now only masked a pure, but controlled rage waiting to be unleashed.

As if to emphasize the severity of the situation, a ray of sun broke free of the heavy summer clouds to reflect menacingly off the guillotine blade. The glint distracted Greylyn momentarily from the stare-down contest with Kael.

Just as the first prisoner ascended the wooden stairs to the executioner’s platform, a resounding boom like thunder filled the air, along with billowing black smoke.

“That’s our cue.” Jasper excitedly tugged her along towards the condemned group. Somehow, he had managed to find someone willing to besiege the event with cannon fire. He certainly was resourceful. As everyone in the square ran in a chaotic frenzy away from the center of the commotion, Greylyn and Jasper raced into the thick of the smoke.

Another boom rocketed overhead towards the spectator stands where the ruling class had just been overseeing their handiwork. The resulting explosion hit just to the left. If whoever was shooting did not fix his aim, the next cannonball might hit the prisoners!

As if hearing her thoughts, the very next earsplitting blast was followed by the crashing of wooden beams as the executioner’s platform disintegrated into black, fiery smoke. Caught in the flames were the wretched executioner and the first of the prisoners in line for the guillotine.

The other prisoners were shackled together, unable to escape the inferno creeping towards them while the onlookers scurried away. All except for two – Robespierre and Kael.

Unmoved by the disaster playing out before his eyes, Kael had a lock hold on the human under his command. He would not allow the frightened political leader to escape despite the sheer panic etched in Robespierre’s expression.

Greylyn could not imagine why they did not flee with the rest, other than that the stubborn devil enjoyed tormenting the man. Come to think of it, she was quite sure he enjoyed tormenting everyone possible. This scene was just his cup of tea.

Jasper and Greylyn reached the prisoners trapped on the other side of the platform, still chained to each other and to a thick wooden post. The wooden stage fueled the raging fire, blocking any escape. Several of their garments had already caught on fire, mostly the women’s billowing skirts. Luckily, Greylyn had chosen to disguise herself as a young boy in tattered knickers instead. It made fighting easier.

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