Page 87 of Revelations

One day, she would ask him exactly how he got his information, since he lacked a phone or an iPad to perform an Internet search. It was as if he had pulled data straight from the thin air.

They located a mid-sized airplane easily enough—probably privately registered, as no logos were displayed on the exterior, and there was no aircraft tail number—on the tarmac. Two burly guys unloaded large bundles from its cargo bay, while the engine continued to whirl. If she had to guess, she would say that the payload was drugs or weapons.

Greylyn pointed to the aircraft, hiding behind a small rustic outbuilding with peeling red paint and one boarded up window. Thomas nodded in agreement. The airplane would depart soon. For where, they did not know; likely China, as most air traffic passed through that country. But wherever it was…it was away from here.

They waited for the laborers to haul off the stash of whatever before approaching the aircraft. Thankfully, there was minimal security at the airport and no guards in sight of this remote section of the tarmac.

The dilemma…how to stow away without the pilot seeing them?

Casting a sideways glance at Thomas, she quipped, “Sure would be nice if you have a contact or two in China to get us through security there and back home.”

“Who do I look like? That guy fromMission Impossible?”

The last thing she wanted was for them to end up in a Chinese jail. It had been a while since she had been in the country…early 1940s during World War II. Frankly, she was not looking forward to a return trip. She still had nightmares about the events that had transpired then.

A subtle trilling sound caught her attention. It seemedto come from the shed that they were hiding behind. Timidly, Greylyn tried the door handle. It was unlocked.

The door creaked loudly, but the whirring of the airplane propeller blades drowned out the sound. Peeking inside, the room was dusty and deserted, filled with mechanical equipment and several vats of gasoline and oil drums.

The ringing stopped. On a makeshift desk wedged in between the oil and a tall, red toolbox, was an old bulky satellite phone.

Motioning for Thomas to keep watch on the plane, she headed straight for the phone. She pressed the talk button, gratified to hear a weak dial tone filled with static. Now if only she could recall Jasper’s cell number from memory.

***

Two days later, she and Thomas landed safely at the Columbia, South Carolina airport where an anxious-looking Jasper awaited. Greylyn had never been so happy as when she saw his frosty blue diamond eyes and perfect grin. He warmly embraced her, tension radiating from his muscles. His arms were strong and nearly cut off her circulation, but she would not trade that feeling for anything in the world.

Kissing her on the cheek, he whispered in her ear. “This better be a good story.”

More loudly, he added, “What in the blazes were you two doing in Tibet? I thought the plan was Ireland.”

“Long, long story. I’ll tell you on the way back to Thomas’s house.” She just hoped that when she did tell him, he would not rage or stalk out the door.

As they walked through the crowded airport, the sound of southern drawls from other people’s conversations soothed Greylyn’s stressed mind. This was what it was all about. Humans. Breathing. Talking. Walking. Going about their everyday lives. This was what she had been destined to protect. It was the one thing that kept her going when she felt as disheartened as she did now.

What she did was for them. What she did mattered.

***

“So you’re telling me that Lucifer wants to stop this prophecy, as well as the angels? The only one who seems interested in it is Olivier. Then why doesn’t Satan himself just strike down the bastard?”

Jasper had been ranting for the last half hour or so after listening to their story. He had not taken it well. He raked his hands through his lustrous jet-black hair and paced the tiny living room like a caged lion. Thomas had sensibly excused himself so that the two guardians could talk in private. She knew that he didn’t want any part of dealing with Jasper’s temper.

“As for Kael, I say…GOOD! Let Olivier do whatever he wants to him. I’m all in favor of that. I’d buy tickets to watch that show. Hell, that’s the only good thing you’ve told me.”

He paused to glance over at Greylyn, as if to question her own feelings on the matter. At one time, she would have felt the same.

Or, would I?

Now, things were different. Yes, Kael might be getting his comeuppance, but it failed to bring her joy. Instead, a pit had opened in her heart—wide and vast; an abyss that haunted her every moment since she had been flung out of the gate to Hell.

On the plane ride home, she had fallen asleep for just a moment as the roar of the engine had lulled her fatigued mind. A horrific nightmare had played out. She’d not only witnessed Kael being tortured. She’d felt every lash, every burn, every cut, and every punch. His screams had resonated in her mind and joined her own as she had been shaken awake by a very concerned Thomas. Since then…she’d felt nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

How was it possible? Physically, all five senses plus her guardian ones were on overdrive. The chatter in the airport had hurt her ears, as everyone’s thoughts and words had crowded her brain. The stale odor wafting through the terminal, reminiscent of decades ago when smoking had been allowed there, had choked her. Visually, everything was ultra-crisp and sharp, like shards of stained glass. The burned coffee from the airport vendor had stung her tongue and she had even tasted the soap chemicals that were used to wash the coffee pot. The slightest touch irritated her skin. Even her usually comfy cotton shirt felt like rough, abrasive wool. Her body was hypersensitive, but inside…nothing.

Staring back at Jasper, she wondered if she looked as blank and empty as she felt. By the way his eyes narrowed and the nerve in his jaw twitched, the answer was easy to guess.

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