Angelic Transitions

by

Nathan Gibbard

The sun slowly inched its way over the expanse of water that served as Halifax's eastern horizon.  The rays had come first, scouting out the surroundings before penetrating the night's sky, forcing the darkness back.  The sky in the east had grown lighter, before the yellow orb of the sun peeked quietly from under its watery covers.  Convinced that the events of last night were well and truly through, it leisurely continued its ascent into the dawning sky.

A figure on the shore shivered slightly, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself.  The sun might have broke, but the air was still shrill and icy, its teeth having not yet melted in a spring thaw.  But despite the air's assault, the woman could no longer feel the wind's icy teeth, a warm feathery wing had wrapped itself protectively around her body.  She sighed contentedly, snuggling more closely to the owner of the wing.  She stared out across the ocean, watching its beloved waves roll in.

"Do you think anyone else knows?" the young woman asked, her voice sounding not unlike the gentle lapping of waves upon a sandy beach.  She snuggled closer into the crook of the man's arm and wing.  "Do you think anyone knows we just saved the world?"

The man's face bowed slightly, taking in the sea-salt aroma of his companion's hair.  He gently kissed the top of her head and smiled, "I thought you super-hero types did this all the time - especially you Canadian Shield superhero types."

"Well, we do," Nereid countered with her own smile, her blue-green eyes flicking up into the man's glowing face.  "But we like to save most of the big stuff for Tuesdays.  If we didn't, Wednesday would be a rather slow news day.  But last night was -, what were those things?"

Jacob felt the shiver run through Nereid, his wing reflexively increasing its efforts to shelter her.  His gaze went back out to the rising sun, though his mind saw again the horrors of the night before.  "Phantoms?  Illusions?  Dreams?  Shadows of what might have been had we failed . . ." 

Nereid's expression shifted pleasantly, smiling again, trying herself  to put the images of last night out of her mind, "Hey, that sounds like  Galadriel."

"Galadri-who?"  Jacob responded, his mind trying to remember if he'd met this new person.

"Galadriel."  Nereid repeated, as if simple repetition would jog his memory.  When that didn't seem to work she tried other avenues; "The elf . . . queen?  Fellowship of the Rings?  The movie . . ."

Jacob shrugged, smiling apologetically.  "Sorry.  You know, what with being insane these last few months - haven't seen too many movies."

Thou and I were not insane, a voice in Jacob's head interjected in a slightly hurt tone.  As thou has said, thou and I are one.  Therefore my actions were not marks of insanity, merely the actions of one misguided.

"Right," Jacob said, rubbing his forehead with his free hand.  "Sorry.  He wanted me to mention we weren't insane, we just weren't ourselves."

Nereid stared carefully at Jacob's face, her own expression a mixture of concern and wariness; "Are you sure you're okay?"

Jacob shifted, removing his arm from around Nereid's shoulder, though his wing remained to shelter her from the surrounding air.  "I'm a lot better than I was."

Nereid continued to search Jacob's face, concern beginning to win out over suspicion.  "I mean, its alright if you're not you know?  It took Catamount weeks after being hit with Dr. Ev's ray before he was finally himself again.  I don't expect you to be fine overnight; especially with that . . . whatever it is still inside of you."

"He's an angel," Jacob intoned, "and he's part of who and what I am.  I was an angel.  Then, for a time, I was human.  Now, we are something else.  We are one: one soul, one body.  Only when we forget do we become dangerous."

"So you're not human anymore?  Not even metahuman?  What about an alien from the fifth planet of Zanzabar that happens to channel angelic spirits, but which by some strange fluke of the universe happens to look exactly, and have the same anatomy of a human?"  Nereid asked, rocking playfully into Jacob.  She found it unsettling the way he talked about himself, almost as if he saw himself as not human but something else entirely.  She had seen others take that route, denying a common humanity between themselves and the rest of the world - it never turned out well.    

Jacob looked down at his companion quizically, finally letting out a laugh.  His arm wrapped around Nereid's shoulder again, bouyed by her own contact with him.  He shook his head, "I don't understand how you get the reputation for being the serious, down-to-earth one.  I just don't get it.  The compassionate one, yes, but . . ."

Nereid looked up at Jacob, her expression difficult to read, "The company I'm with helps."

Jacob gaze returned to the morning sky, letting his heart soak in the joy of the dawn.  He could feel the courage and strength returning to his mind and body.  He knew Nereid's concern and hoped he had deflected some of it.  He was not some megomanaical would-be world conqueror, but he was also not human, not anymore.  He was something new, completely and utterly unseen on the earth before, something that he didn't even quite understand.  But To explain that to her - Jacob knew she wasn't ready.  To be honest, he wasn't sure if he was either.

He could feel the thought forming in his mind: Fifth planet of Zanzabar?  Are there really such creatures?  Forsooth, I have not heard of such beings before.  A smile crept over Jacob's face as he watched the sun, pointing out the finer points of Nereid's sarcasm to his mental siamese twin.

The silence deepened, Jacob taking joy in feeling the rays of the sun, Nereid closing her eyes and enjoying the simple sounds of the sea.  Both taking comfort in the presence of the other.  Minutes passed in comfortable silence, the closeness of their two bodies being the only words that needed to be spoken at that moment.  A crease briefly formed on Nereid's brow, before quickly disappearing again. 

"So, he's still out there isn't he?"  Nereid asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Who?  Cain?"  Jacob replied, guessing at Nereid's question.  Taking a deep breath, he nodded before his gaze returned to the sea.  "Yeah, he's still out there."

"How can you be so-?"  Nereid began, puzzled by Jacob's seeming calm.  "He tried to destroy you once; I know these kind of people, he'll try again."

"Yes, he will," Jacob agreed, nodding his head again, "but not anytime soon."

"How can you be so sure?"  Nereid countered, "I mean, the couple in Louisiana, the priest in Detroit, the monks in Toronto?!  He-, how can you be so sure he won't come after you right away?"

"Because I know of him," Jacob replied, his own brow furrowed in thought, "and that's not his way.  He did those things to show me what he could do and . . . because he was angry.  That was a mistake, and he won't do that again."

"But what-" Nereid began, only to be quickly cut-off.

"You'll have to check on the kids when I leave.  I'm going to see them this afternoon, but they're going to be frightened for a long time.  I don't know, that might provide a doorway back in."  Jacob said in a soft voice, but with a edge that suggested one section of their conversation was over.

Nereid stared at Jacob for a moment, a touch of anger evident in her eyes.  Slowly, the anger softened - he was hiding something from her, trying to protect her.  It had something to do with the questions she was asking, but what?

Jacob stared down at Nereid, feeling the uncertainty and questions of her mind.  He could feel those unasked questions pushing into the borders of his brain, but knew nothing good could come from them.  He blinked once, twice, then glanced out to sea again.

Cain.  Son of Adam.  Humanity's first murderer.  Or so the story went.  The truth of those appelations were obscure and would be debated even by some of his 'heavenly' companions.  What could not be doubted was his existence in physical form on the earth - whether or not he was truly Abel's murderer, or 'simply' the manifestation of the chaotic human impulse to murder.  Whatever the case was, Cain existed and so too did the prohibition against harming him.  Jacob remembered last night and the palable aura of divine protection mingled with malicious intent that had surrounded Cain. 

And Jacob remembered, too, the way Cain opperated.  Cain could not die, for Death itself rejected responsibility for the murderer's demise, making Cain effectively immortal.  With that immortality came a different perspective on things, a longer ranged perspective.  He had seen and heard of it when he was a leader of angels; even among angels one was to be wary of Cain. 

To humanity's credit and honour, many had stood up to the murderer through the ages, risking the dangers that went along with such a stance.  But only long after would Cain exact his own brand of revenge.  Killed in cribs, in beds, on deserted roads, entire lines of families would be wiped out that could trace their ancestory back to someone who had challenged or defied Cain.  For Nereid's aid, her family would now be one of them, marked for eradication at some future point in time.  Jacob's too, or that part of him that had been human.

But there were stories too, legends, of a few families escaping that wrath.

Nereid's voice brought him back from his thoughts, her head had turned to look out to the sea as well.  "I still have another week of leave; I'll check on them whenever I can.  Though I don't know what I could do if that . . . thing returns."

"It won't return," Jacob said with the simplicity of utter conviction.  "It might have tried to piggie-back into our world, but it still existed in its own world.  Now its dead in both."

And we art whole again, the voice intoned in Jacob's head.  Though that beast be a creature most foul, it did serve a higher purpose - a purpose ordained from God.  It didst serve to unite us.

"Besides," Jacob continued, shaking himself away from the images and voice in his head.  "You're a member of the Canadian Shield - hope, strength and resolute defiance personfied and wrapped in a Canadian mold.  Well, at least if they're anything like me when I was their age that's what they'll be thinking.  Talk to them, maybe even try and get Sylph or Cavalier to as well, they won't be suffering from any nightmares soon."

The two lapsed into silence again, finally being broken by Nereid soft voice; "So, you still plan to go through with it?  Go back to Montreal?"

"Yeah," Jacob said, sighing deeply again, steeling himself.  "I have to go back and turn myself in.  That part of my path is clear, whatever may come of it."

"When do you leave?"

"Soon." Jacob replied, not relishing the thought.

"But not right away."  Nereid said, resting her head against Jacob, finding herself moving closer into him again.  She couldn't help but think it was slightly unfair that Sylph could flit from one romance to another, but the only person in a long time she felt herself falling for, she knew she probably shouldn't.

Jacob felt Nereid's fears and doubts and smiled weakly, gently pressing his cheek to the top of her head.  He could think of no comforting words to give her, but felt comfort in their shared feelings.  His free arm wrapped itself around her waist, feeling Nereid's arms wrapping around his own body.  His wings completed the embrace.

"No, not right away."

******

The body flew unnaturally through the air, its flight suddenly checked by a brick wall.  The body slammed against the wall, a small escape of air propelled from its lungs, before sliding to rest at the corner where the wall and back alley met.  A light moan issued from the body's mouth, the only indication that it was still alive.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, the owner of the body thought, this wasn't what was supposed to be happening.  He concentrated and breathed out again, triggering his metahuman ability - invisible pheremones wafted in the air around the man.  Even before he tried, he knew it wouldn't work: they only worked on members of the opposite sex.  He heard his assailant approach, stopping next to him.  No, it wasn't fair at all.

It wasn't like he was really hurting anybody afterall.  He'd go to a bar, scout out the prospects, and have a bit of fun.  And with the amount of pheremones he could pump out, he knew they enjoyed it too.  If she was rich, well, he'd hang around for a little longer; milk a little more out of her.  He'd give them a good time, and then they paid him for his services: it was a victimless crime really.

"Is that what you think?" came the voice from inside the darkness.  "That no one got hurt by your little . . . 'escapades'?"

A hand roughly grabbed him from out of the darkness, flipping him around and forcing him against the wall.  A face appeared out of the darkness, its eyes filled with anger.  It brought its own face close, sniffing one side and then the other before setting his wild eyes on the doomed man.

"You can't see it can you?" the voice said, shadows again congregating and obscuring his face.  "Your body's covered with them, all over - the cries and tears of untold numbers laid out against you.  Its almost like a map - and you have travelled haven't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about?" the man struggled to say, traces of blood spitting onto his lips.

"A claim of innocence?"  the shadowed figure replied, sounding almost surprised.  "So you deny the charges by all those women that you've used for, what 6, 7 years now?"

The man blinked through one swollen eye, squirming against his asailant's grasp.  How did he know?  Nobody knew, did they?  Was this some relentless boyfriend finally come to track him down?  Images of women and darkened bars involuntary flashed through his mind.

The shadowy figure seemed to sway back for a moment, further into the darkness, almost as if it was seeking to get away from something suddenly in front of it.  For a moment, a moment only, the man thought that now was the time to run, probably the only chance he'd get.

The chance quickly passed by.

The darkness retreated for a moment, to reveal a face outlined in what appeared to be an aura of steely grey.  The expression etched on that face was one of contempt and disgust.  "You're leaking out all over the place - you didn't even bother to protect yourself, or your victims.  How much sorrow . . .   You are guilty, and all that is left is to pass judgement."

The tension of the moment, the fear, the terror, finally broke the man and he sobbed, "I admit it, I'm guilty.  Just please don't kill me!  I'll be better, I'll turn myself in - whatever you want.  If it's money, or-, just please don't kill me!"

"Yes, you will turn yourself in."  The shadows drew back over the creature's face; "Or, rather, be found by the police.  But there is still the matter of certain claims of a higher sort upon you; you must still answer for those.  Yes, you will turn yourself in, but not right away."

"No, not right away."