Yesterday Is History Tomorrow Is A Mystery
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It was still raining in the morning, but I didn’t care. I needed this time to think and be alone with my thoughts as well as to work on what I’d learned over the last few days, so I wasn’t going anywhere.
It had taken me two hours to get myself packed up and ready after the first rain shower passed through, but it seemed like it took a lifetime to finish everything when I finally sat down at that table in the kitchen where I could see everyone, including my brother’s room across the way.
I couldn’t even talk to them because they were all too wrapped up in their own issues to give me much attention. The only thing I really felt good about was that no one knew how bad things were for us financially; if someone asked I would have told them we lived comfortably off the money he earned from his job as a teacher, which was true enough of course.
If only I hadn’t been such a fool back then and not tried to keep the truth from him…
But I wouldn’t let myself go there. That was yesterday, and now I wanted to look forward instead of worrying about what might be happening right now or what had happened a decade ago. It was easier said than done though.
Every time I closed my eyes I saw the scene play out again: my father screaming at my brother, then at me, and then my brother pushing past our father and knocking him into the wall, which made Dad hit his head on a chair. My mother had run after them when they left the living room, crying… I could still hear her sobbing, the sound like nails dragging along my soul.
She’d come back later when she thought everyone else had gone to bed, asking me if I was okay and trying to comfort me. At first, I’d been relieved that she seemed to understand why I was so upset, but then I realized that she knew what he had done to my brother long before I did… And then the next day she must have told everyone else.
Oh God, I hated her so much for doing that! No wonder I never trusted anyone in my family ever since—they were all the same. So many secrets between them.
I pushed my plate away from me and looked around the kitchen for something to do with my hands, but there wasn’t anything. Even the sink was empty. Well, I could wash dishes if I wanted to, but that didn’t feel right either.
After a minute of sitting there staring blankly at nothing, I stood and went upstairs and found him in the bedroom with his laptop open on the nightstand. He looked up at me as I came in, and a moment of hesitation flashed across his face.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
He hesitated again. “I thought we’d talk.”
“We don’t need to—”
“Come on,” he insisted. “Let’s sit down together and figure out how we can help each other.”
His words reminded me of his promise to take care of me. For a brief second, I actually considered telling him what I knew—that he’d been using his powers to make sure my father never found out he was stealing from him.
Then I shook my head. That wasn’t something a friend should be telling another person, and besides, I wasn’t entirely sure it was true anyway. What if I was wrong? How could he trust me then? Not to mention that I was pretty certain he already knew more than I’d given him credit for.
So instead of saying anything, I crossed the floor silently until I reached his bed and sat down beside him while he watched me with his intense blue eyes. It seemed like he was waiting for some sort of reaction from me, but I wasn’t going to offer him any just yet.
“Okay,” he said eventually. “Let’s talk then.”
***
For the rest of the afternoon, we talked and discussed everything we both knew about the world around us: our powers and abilities, the demons we’d met and the ones we didn’t know about, and the Archdemon who was probably coming for me sooner rather than later.
I explained how the Archdemon had used a demon to destroy the church building and kill everyone in it, and we agreed that we needed to be careful when he appeared. We also talked about the Archdemon’s power over his servants.
As far as we knew, he had to feed them regularly, and although most humans died almost instantly during feeding, there were exceptions like me. It meant that I’d have to be very alert and cautious whenever I was in public or in the vicinity of anyone else who had a gift from whatever demon he served.
But it seemed even if the Archdemon had no control over someone who was immune to his compulsion, he’d find some way to get them to follow his orders. There would be a battle soon, a final fight to decide the fate of this country.
If the Archdemon won, there’d be no stopping him and all the monsters he’d created to rule the land, but I knew I couldn’t allow that to happen. I’d have to stop him somehow. I just hadn’t figured out exactly how yet.
After dinner, I followed Dad into the den where he was studying the latest news reports and reading through some files I’d printed off last week when he wasn’t home. When he spotted me in front of the television, he turned the volume up so I could hear what they were saying without having to shout over the sound.
The anchorwoman was standing outside somewhere on the coast near the ruins of an old lighthouse that I remembered seeing from the ferry. Apparently, they’d found the body of a teenage boy floating inside its waters, and he’d been missing for two months now.
He’d never returned home one morning after school as usual. His parents were devastated; it wasn’t uncommon for young people to wander away, but this was the longest period of time he’d ever been gone and nobody had heard anything about him since.
“How many others have disappeared like this?” Dad asked, looking up from his papers.
The anchorwoman spoke again, explaining that the police and Coast Guard patrols were scouring the area and asking anyone who might be able to give information about what happened to come forward. So far, no one had.
“It has to be connected,” Dad murmured.
I shivered at the memory of being pulled out of my dreams by a similar compulsion—to drown myself in the ocean—and nodded in agreement.
“And it seems that every day there are more,” I whispered.
Dad studied the news footage on the screen, turning his attention to a few other reports before coming back to it a minute later. “It seems that way,” he repeated quietly, then went back to flipping through his documents.
When the program ended, I got up and walked across the room. I wanted to tell him I’d seen something odd too, but I decided not to say anything yet. I wanted to keep some mystery to it for a while longer. Even though he’d promised he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe he already was.
Maybe he’d already told others, but I hadn’t noticed because of my head injury, or he’d planned this whole thing out well ahead of time. And even if none of those things was true, it meant I needed to be wary and pay attention to everything he did and said, especially if it involved me or my gift.
We worked late into the night, Dad reading and rereading his books, occasionally making notes in the margins. Then he’d call me over with questions or comments, and we’d discuss what he was reading. It was exhausting, but I learned so much. Dad was brilliant. He was so smart. That’s why he became a professor instead of a fighter.
“What is this place?” I asked suddenly, pulling away from Dad’s book to point down at what looked like a picture of a building with a big dome. I recognized it when I saw a photograph in one of his files, the same photo that was on the wall in my office.
“That’s Saint Augustine’s Catholic Cathedral in New York City,” Dad replied. “Saint Augustine of Hippo, you mean?”
I nodded. It made sense that the Archdemon would choose such a holy building. After all, demons weren’t supposed to be in heaven. They were only allowed in hell, unless they chose otherwise, which apparently included St. Augustine’s cathedral.
It also reminded me of the first time I met him: he’d shown me to one of the rooms in the basement, and the door had opened onto a small chapel where candles burned and statues stood around the walls.
In the center of the ceiling was a painting that depicted the Archangel Raphael flying toward Heaven, and Saint Augustine’s cathedral was probably one of his favorite places in all the world, or at least it was close enough to heaven for his purposes.
He must have sensed my question, because he leaned back and looked at me curiously, then smiled. “You want to learn more about angels?”
My stomach dropped and my heart thudded as I shook my head slowly. “No … no, not angels. You’re thinking about them the wrong way. I’m wondering what else there is besides angels.”
A smile broke across Dad’s lips, but his eyes darkened when he realized how serious I was. His fingers curled gently around mine, and he squeezed lightly. A surge of warmth washed over me, comforting me, and I relaxed under his touch. But he didn’t answer me immediately; instead, he stared at me quietly, studying me as if trying to figure out exactly what I was getting at.
Finally, he let go of my hand and stood up. “Come along,” he murmured, pulling me behind him to follow him upstairs and out to the living room. It was dark outside, and the only light came from a lamp beside the door, but he led us over to a table against one wall, pushed a pile of books aside, and pointed to a chair.
Once I sat down, he took a seat next to me. I turned to look at him. “So what do you think?” I asked, watching him intently as he picked up one of the books.
His gaze drifted from me to the book, and his brows knitted together as he read it. “Well, I can tell you that there are other beings in the universe beyond angels.” He flipped open another one. “This will help you understand some of the other races, including humans.”
“But—”
Dad held up a finger. “Let me tell you something about the Archdemon that I’ve kept quiet until now,” he said softly.
My breath caught in my throat. Was he really going to tell me?
“Angels—or more properly called archangels,” he began carefully, “are created by God and sent out to guard His kingdom. They were given great power: greater than that of any angel on Earth, or any creature for that matter. The Archdemon is a fallen one who has been cursed to wander in hell.”
I blinked and looked at Dad in surprise. “Cursed? Why?”
A slow smile spread across Dad’s face, and he chuckled. “You might want to take a few moments to process this information before you ask me your next question.”
I frowned, not understanding what he meant, but he went on talking quickly before I could say anything else. “The Archdemon—as you know him—is very powerful and incredibly intelligent. In his own right, he’s a dangerous being, but he’s also an archangel.
Archangels were given the gift of choosing whether they’d live on Earth or join their brethren in Heaven. And so he chose earth, though I don’t think he ever intended to stay here permanently. But after some time in this realm, his arrogance grew, and he chose to ignore the commands of the Creator—to disobey the will of the Almighty.”
He paused to study me closely again, his fingers tightening slightly on the edge of the table. “And when that happens, there are consequences.”
There was silence between us for several seconds, and I couldn’t quite process the words he’d just told me.
“If the Archangel of the Netherworld chooses to remain on this plane of existence,” Dad continued after a moment, “then he cannot ascend to Heaven with the rest of his brothers. Instead, he must be destroyed and banished from all worlds. That’s why he chose you,” he said softly. “To make an example. If the Archdemon can’t ascend into Heaven, then neither can you.”
“You’re saying he’s the devil,” I whispered and then gasped as a chill swept over me.
Dad smiled, and though the expression made him seem sad, it also gave me a strange comfort.
“That would certainly be one way of putting it, wouldn’t it?” he said.
***
We drove home in silence afterward. The sun had set, and stars hung high above us in the sky. The wind whistled through the open windows like angry whispers as we pulled up at the house, and I glanced nervously up to see if Dad was feeling as shaken up as I was. My father never seemed afraid. But his shoulders were rigid and tense, and his hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel.
It was still early enough that it wasn’t completely dark yet, and Mom hadn’t come home yet, but she should have already gone to bed since she always got up early to prepare breakfast. We both knew Dad shouldn’t drive home while tired.
But I wanted him to talk to someone. Or maybe not talk; I guess more like vent … get everything out of his system without actually having to say what was bothering him. After all, that could lead to trouble.
He opened the front door of our old farmhouse, and I followed him inside. We climbed the stairs and crossed the living room, which was illuminated only by the moonlight streaming in from the window. Dad turned and looked at me for a long moment before walking down the hallway toward his bedroom, and I stopped where I was and listened to the silence as the footsteps drew closer.
I felt his hand close around mine, and he tugged gently. I started forward, and then Dad’s warm lips touched my forehead, and I sighed deeply against him. His lips brushed across my skin, moving slowly from cheek to cheek, and his breath tickled my ear. He didn’t say a word.
After a moment, Dad moved away, and the warmth of his touch slipped back into my body, sending a soothing ripple throughout me. The fear that had plagued me earlier suddenly vanished as he led me to the kitchen, his fingers sliding easily along my waist. He pulled open the refrigerator, looked at the contents, then grabbed a bottle of beer and handed it to me with a smirk.
“Cheers,” he said and lifted his own bottle in salute.
“To angels who don’t like their beer cold,” I joked and clinked glasses with him.
Dad grinned and twisted off the cap before taking a sip. When he lowered the bottle, a look of deep thought had replaced his usual calm, almost blank expression.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
But he shook his head and leaned against the counter. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
He looked so serious that I didn’t argue, and instead took a sip myself. There was something about Dad that made me feel like everything he did was a big deal. As if the simple act of opening a beer was somehow monumental and worth noticing.
I couldn’t help but wonder if this was how he saw everything else too—like each decision was a life-or-death matter. And now that he knew that Uriel would be coming for him soon, he had to be wondering whether there was any way he could protect himself.
I finished drinking the last few drops of the beer before setting the empty bottle aside. I pushed up my sleeves and began cleaning the kitchen, and Dad watched me curiously until he finally cleared his throat.
“Do you think you’ll be okay?” he asked.
I shrugged, and then wiped at the table with a damp cloth. I had no idea what kind of protection he was talking about, other than the power of prayer, of course, and that was hardly anything to rely upon when faced with an angel as powerful as Uriel.
A shiver ran through me, and I rubbed absently at the spot between my shoulder blades. My hair tumbled forward to cover my face, and I quickly pushed it back behind my ears. The tips of my fingernails dug into the flesh of my palms as I clenched them together under the table, and I felt my pulse quicken.
Uriel was an archangel; he would kill him without even thinking twice about it. And if he ever got hold of us, we’d never stand a chance.
“I’ll be fine,” I whispered. Then I stood abruptly, wiping at the sweat trickling down my temples. “Let’s go to bed.”
There was no way I could stay awake much longer anyway. And though I was sure Dad wouldn’t mind spending another night curled up in bed with me, I didn’t want to risk him falling asleep while driving us home late tonight.
That was a disaster waiting to happen. So I walked over to the hall closet, retrieved my favorite blanket, and laid it on the sofa before crawling beneath its softness.
Dad followed me, climbing onto the couch next to me after I wrapped my arms around me and pulled my legs up underneath me. For a moment, neither of us spoke as we gazed at each other in the dim light filtering in from the window.
He rested his chin atop his knee, watching me, and after several minutes, he reached for my hand, clasping tightly to hold it in place as he laced his fingers with mine.
Then he kissed me softly, once on each cheek, before releasing me to lie down beside him. His arm pressed gently into mine as we curled into each other, our heads resting together so our shoulders and knees were touching.
“Are you warm enough?” he murmured softly into my hair.
My chest tightened as I tried not to let my heart break for him. I wished I could do more than just give him a hug or stroke his cheek, but at least here in the dark, I had his hand. I could feel his fingers gripping mine firmly, and it calmed the fear that threatened to creep up my spine again.
The silence grew uncomfortable, and I shifted against him to try to get comfortable.
“Do you remember when I told you that angels had wings?” he asked suddenly.
I nodded slowly. It seemed like ages ago that I’d learned this lesson, and I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for him all those years ago as he searched for answers. “They are the souls of men, and they are given life by the God who created them.
They cannot live long without their wings, which they keep hidden away to avoid being killed for the sin of possessing them, and thus destroying themselves along with the rest of mankind.”
“Is this why your father is so afraid to lose his body? If he’s already dead inside…”
“It doesn’t work like that,” I insisted. “An angel will still die if he loses his body, and then he’ll burn forever in hell, just as if he had never lived. The only difference between death and destruction for an angel is whether or not he has chosen to fight.”
And there lies the real problem, I thought grimly. When angels gave up hope, all that was left was despair, and the worst thing a soul can do is to give up.
But I wasn’t going to mention that part aloud. Not now. Instead, I just closed my eyes and listened to the steady rhythm of my father’s breath as the darkness fell around us.
The End