Page 37 of Revelations

Rolling her eyes, she stifled a laugh. The whole idea was absurd! Kael was there to help her? Help her lose her mind, most likely.

He lowered his voice to a mere whisper and leaned in conspiratorially. “To be honest, I’d like to help you find a way to thwart this prophecy altogether.”

Now he expected her to believe that he wanted to help her undermine Olivier?

Sure. When Hell freezes over.

“Then you know what it is then?” A touch of hope squeaked out.

Kael shook his head. “Sorry. I just know that any prophecy Olivier wants to see fulfilled can’t be a good thing. That guy is more devious than Lucifer. The only reason I’m staying on his side is that Lucifer outright wants you dead to stop it.”

Oh great! I’m on Satan’s hit list!

That last line sank in for a few moments. Olivier wanted the prophecy. Lucifer wanted to stop it. And so far, aside from making the prophecy a huge scavenger hunt, Heaven was staying out of it.

Yeah, she was screwed.

***

Blocks away, Jasper stopped abruptly. What the hell had he just done? He had left Greylyn with Kael. That was never a good idea, for more reasons than he dared admit to himself. Not only that, but those two were apparentlya lot tighter than was good for anybody. He did not know how, but the bastard had done what he had sworn he wouldnever do again…put her at risk.

A scream ripped from his lungs, and he slammed his fist into a crumbling brick wall.

Damn Kael! Damn Olivier! Had this mess not been settled centuries earlier?

Chapter 9 – The Messenger

Greylyn did not immediately head back to Sofia’s apartment after she had left Kael in the park. It had been a torturous morning—zero sleep since breaking and entering into a federal buildingandgrand larceny; an apocalypse of arguments with her best friend; and now she had been subjected to a hellish couple of hours comparing notes with her worst enemy while fighting the urge to yank him across the splintered picnic table. Although she told herself that the impulse was to throttle him, the truth nagged at the back of her head…taunting her like a child.

She had shown him the artifacts, and explained about the seedpod, but he’d known about as much as she did, which amounted to almost nothing. Once he’d begun steering the conversation back to them, her patience had snapped. Her only recourse had been to stomp away. Fast.

The turmoil of thoughts raging in her mind was driving her nearly mad. Kael—bad guy. Kael—tending to her injuries just a few months earlier. Kael—inciting the French Revolution over two hundred years ago by ensnaring Robespierre into his wicked schemes. Kael—watching over Kelly and her unborn child at the bed and breakfast while she had a face-to-face with Olivier. Kael—in cahoots with Olivier. Kael—saving her from the shadow demon. Kael—sliding his hand down her back as they swayed to the music underneath a gazebo. All of that now mixed with memories of the vampire’s lair.

Argh!

How had she allowed him to infiltrate her life this way? It was wrong, but she had slid down that slippery slope and now she was afraid there was no way to claw her way back to the top.

No wonder Jasper had exploded so violently to seeing her with Kael! He knew. He always knew best. And he had expected more from her. No guardian angel would align with a dark guardian, especially one so dangerous.

He had warned her in the beginning about Kael. His specific words had been, “…either annihilate him completely with your dagger through his heart and then rip it out of his body while it’s still beating; or run. Just run.”

The weight of her grief from letting Jasper down crushed onto her shoulders as she wandered the city streets of the nation’s capital. Her eyes riveted to the ground just in front of her soiled boots, Greylyn had no idea where she was or where she was going. As if in a vacuum, no sounds of the busy city penetrated her ears. There were vague blurs of color out of the corner of her eye—people passing by, buildings, maybe even statues—there were lots of statues in the District.

Deadlocked in her own frazzled mind, nothing registered around her until a dark shadow fell over her, blocking out the bright orange glow of the sun and sending a chill over her. Greylyn stopped. Looking up, her eyes beheld a formidable site of awe-inspiring architectural beauty.

The Cathedral Church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul in the city and diocese of Washington, D.C., more commonly referred to as The Washington National Cathedral, stood tall and impressive against a baby-blue sky with only wispy puffs of white floating by to mar the perfect canvas. Modeled after fourteenth century English Gothic architecture, it was the sixth largest cathedral in the world. Gargoyles and grotesques adorned its two western towers that now cast cool shadows over her as she peered upward. If she recalled correctly, there was even a stone carving of Darth Vader on the north “dark” side of the Cathedral.

Greylyn had visited the cathedral once before, during a brief stint trying to positively influence a civil servant to stand up for what was right despite fear of retribution from the government powers-that-be. She had played on his devout faith as a means to come to the right decision. He had, and he had paid a heavy price. But his conscience and his soul had been clean thereafter. That was what really counted in the overall scheme of things.

Now faced with the stone pillion of the Christian faith, Greylyn heard the faint whispers of a children’s choir coming from within the building. The vocals blended together in perfect harmony, washing over her like a gentle breeze off the ocean. All the earlier tension melted away and her troubled mind ceased its raging.

She strolled around—past the burial monument for President Woodrow Wilson, past the War Memorial Chapel, and past several tourist groups milling around gazing at the spectacular Rose Window which celebrated God’s declaration of “Let There Be Light” and the Ex Nihilo sculpture depicting the creation of Man. These symbols, although exceedingly beautiful, did not fill her soul as the music did.

The music grew louder and more melodic; an invitation for her to enter St. John’s chapel to be engulfed in peace. Ethereal light momentarily blinded her as she took that first step into the sanctuary. Intermixed with the angelic voices of the choir, Greylyn imagined that this was what Heaven must be like; surrounded by immense beauty that overcame all the senses. Light and love filled her heart until it overflowed.

Greylyn took a seat at the back while basking in the beautiful surroundings and high alto chorus. The music cascaded over her like a warm cashmere blanket in the midst of a winter storm. The scent of hundreds of candles burned at an altar in the back of the room overpowered the lemon-fragranced wood furniture polish. Her eyelids fluttered closed. Everything vanished except for the sound of angelic voices raised in praise.

Oftentimes, whenever she experienced confusion or distress, she somehow found her way to a church to contemplate her uneasy thoughts. The irony was not lost on her. She was sort of an angel, but could also be just as frail as most humans. Sometimes, even she needed heavenly guidance.

---