|
|
5 minutes later, I had begun writing a completely new beginning to the story, a story that eventually became "The Wager." This was the story I turned into my professor the last day of class. It is by far the longest short story I have written yet, numbering 9,200 words.
His disembodied soul hovered over the mortal he had been assigned to protect, watching gleefully as the mortal tripped over the modem cord and sent her laptop clattering to the floor. She yelped in surprise, letting out an unladylike string of curses, and gingerly picked up the fallen computer. The laptop was ominously quiet, its small screen dark and blank. The mortal pressed a small button along the side of the computer and after a few beeps and the sound of a hard drive spinning, the screen blazed back into life, bathing the mortal’s face in its eerie, blue-greenish glow. She laid the laptop back on the table and sighed to herself.
“God, I’m such a klutz,” she said mournfully.
Privately, Michael agreed. What his mortal lacked in worldly knowledge, she more than eclipsed by her lack of grace. Youth lent her a dangerous recklessness and impetuous temperament that sent her careening into every brick wall and door that crossed her path. The past few days, as Michael adjusted himself to his new duty as the girl’s Guardian, he found it ridiculously easy to nudge obstacles into the mortal’s path – obstacles that she promptly either tripped over or destroyed in an attempt to avoid them. The girl’s ignorance of his existence left him to enjoy watching the ensuing chaos without any fear of discovery or reparation.
Manipulation came easy to him, Michael knew. Although his soul had been spun into existence a mere two lifetimes ago, positions of power had figured prominently in both of his mortal lives and Michael had made the most of his opportunities. He didn’t consider himself evil, exactly, just a control freak of sorts. He liked maneuvering people into situations that left them at his mercy, and if they happened to lose control of themselves in the process, it only meant a much more entertaining show. The intoxicating feeling of power that suffused him every time he succeeded made even the most potent narcotics seem like a minor laxative to him.
His mortal settled back into her chair, wiping the condensation from her ice-cold soda off her fingers. Water droplets at the base of the can seeped into the table, marking a dark murky stain on the wood, but the girl didn’t seem to notice. She concentrated for a moment on her computer screen, then a small half-smile curved across her lips and she resumed her typing.
Bored, Michael looked over her shoulder and skimmed the document displayed on the screen. His eyes widened as he realized his mortal was writing a short story about guardian angels. True to her nature, the story was whimsical and wistful, full of descriptions of magnificent cumulus clouds, white-feathered wings, and a gruff archangel named Gabriel.
Michael snorted. “Sweetheart, you don’t know shit,” he said.
~*~
There simply was no Heaven or Hell.
Two forces ruled the universe, that of the Light and of the Darkness, and souls served one or the other once they passed into the afterlife. In a loose but very real sense, the Light represented the radiance and sparkle of all things good, while the Darkness coveted the shadows and darkness of all things evil. Heaven and Hell was a fairy tale spun by an old crafty storyteller of long ago who lusted for immortality and called himself God.
Michael opened his eyes, and stared into the impassive faces of the two Judges. All the confusion that came with the transition between life and the afterlife evaporated, and Michael knew he was to be Judged once again. He waited for the verdict without fear or apprehension.
The last time, Michael had been sent to serve the Darkness, an assignment Michael found himself enjoying more often than not. Despair had been a hard but fair taskmaster, and Michael completed his work efficiently. With his workload completed, Despair had sent Michael back into mortal life, granting him a birth to a wealthy family as a reward for Michael’s good work. Michael had forgotten all aspects of the afterlife while living out his mortal life. Once dead however, all of his old memories flooded back, and he felt grateful to his old Master for the well-to-do birth of his second life. Granted, Michael hadn’t spent his wealth as wisely as some would have, but neither Despair nor himself had expected him to. They both knew Michael was no angel.
Michael peered into the shadows surrounding the Judge of Darkness. Despair hovered at the edges, waiting, and Michael contented himself with a small arrogant smile. Mortality had provided a nice break, but he looked forward to getting back to work.
The Judge of Light chewed on his lower lip, frowning in thought. The Judge of Darkness merely scowled. Both beings seemed to be stalling for time, an absurd notion Michael dismissed as soon as it sprung to mind. Judgement was rarely difficult. The Judge of Light glanced at the Judge of Darkness, and both beings shared a look Michael did not understand.
“He belongs to us,” the Judge of Darkness said, his voice rolling across the court like thunder galloping across the sky.
“We don’t doubt it,” said the Judge of Light. A troubled line formed and blended in with the rest of the wise wrinkles marring his forehead. “But orders are orders. And these were direct orders.”
The Judge of Darkness growled in frustration.
A glowing band of light disentangled itself from the pale golden aura surrounding the Judge of Light. It shimmered and sharpened into the slender form of Hope, who stepped forward and glanced at the Judges. The Judge of Darkness refused to acknowledge her presence, while the Judge of Light slowly gave her a reluctant nod.
Hope held out her hand to Michael, and he wrinkled his nose in a bewildered grimace that swiftly gave way to astonishment as she said softly, “Come, Michael. You serve me now.”
Michael blinked. “But I belong to Despair.” He turned to his old Master for confirmation, but Despair chose that moment to bow to the Judge of Darkness and fade from sight. Michael set his mouth in a hard line, stifling the stab of betrayal that speared through him, and squared his shoulders. “Let’s go then,” he said, staring straight ahead at nothing. “I’ll probably make a better servant of Light than of Darkness anyway.”
His words sent a surprised jolt through the two Judges, who looked at each other nervously. Michael ignored them, but as he trailed in the footsteps of his new Mistress, he felt an omnipresent chuckle reverberate through his soul.
** We shall see, young one. ** Dry amusement colored the words of a stranger’s voice that Michael felt within him rather than heard.
For some odd reason, Michael’s mood lightened.
~*~
Michael’s mortal crouched on the floor beside a tall bookshelf, skimming a thick paperback with an airbrushed illustration of a pale-haired woman on its cover. Wizard of the Grove, Michael noted, registering little more than slight disgust at the girl’s choice of genre. He would have been browsing through Stephen King. Michael perched on top of the bookshelf and surveyed the bookstore, his restless mind hungry for another game to play. The late hour limited the store’s customers to a bare handful.
A short, stocky man in a white polo shirt wandering aimlessly through the store caught Michael’s attention. The man stopped several feet away from Michael’s mortal, studying the shelves of the science fiction section with a bemused expression. She glanced up at the sound of sneakered feet on carpet, exchanged a polite smile with the stranger, and returned to her paperback. The glimmer of an idea formed in Michael’s mind.
“Betcha I can make her fall for him,” he said to no one in particular,
and hopped off the bookshelf eagerly. His games had taken on a gambling
twist of late. Every time he scored a victory, he permitted Jenn
a flash of inspiration for her silly stories. He figured it was the
least he could do for her, since she provided him with his only source
of entertainment. Even an ex-servant of Darkness had a code of honor.
Besides,
Michael had never lost a bet before, and the challenge of coming up with
a wager he could not win was proving to be a most interesting diversion
indeed.
As one of Despair’s Messengers, Michael had once touched mortals and encouraged their depressing moods to surface and take shape, controlling their actions. He stilled his hand now for a more delicate task, and lightly placed his fingers against the man’s temple. Probing, Michael found the man’s faint acknowledgement of the girl, an impression that merely registered the fact that she was there, sitting on the floor and apparently absorbed in a book. Michael focused, reshaping the impression until the emphasis centered on the friendly smile the girl had given the man.
The man’s gaze fluttered from the books to Michael’s mortal, and hesitated.
“What in the world do you think you’re doing?” a voice shrieked.
Shocked, Michael practically leaped away from the man and glanced around wildly, his eyes rolling. Another soul hovered a few feet away, anger flashing brilliant sparks of red-orange through the weave of her soul. The fact that Michael could even see her marked her as one of Hope’s servants, since usually only those with the same Master could see one another unless opposing servants were acting upon the same mortal. Michael had yet to encounter the few exceptions to the rule.
He opened his mouth to defend himself. “I—“
“You idiot!” the other soul grated. She marched forward and grasped Michael by the neck. “The only mortal you touch is yours, and Rhody is mine!”
Until that moment, Michael had believed himself invulnerable. He discovered differently now. He gagged, his feet flailing, as the other Guardian gripped his neck tightly between her hands. His warrior instincts kicked in and he latched onto her arm, preparing to break her stranglehold.
Abruptly, the humor of the situation struck him and he literally choked on his laughter. He was already dead. They both were.
“Excuse me,” said the man politely.
Both Guardians froze. As one, they riveted their gazes on the two mortals.
Michael’s mortal looked up, startled. The man gestured at the rows of books before him. “Would you happen to be able to recommend something here for me to start on?”
The girl scrambled to her feet somewhat awkwardly and Michael winced, seeing her for the gawky teenager she was still growing out of. She tilted her head to one side as she swept her gaze across the shelves, then pointed at a spot near the man’s legs.
“David Eddings is pretty good,” the girl said, her voice soft in her shyness.
“Oh really?” The man pondered her suggestion for a few moments.
“Anne McCaffrey too.” The girl chewed on the inside of her cheek uncertainly, then shrugged. “Personally I like Margaret Weis, her Star of the Guardians trilogy though, not the Deathgate series she wrote with Tracy Hickman. And Piers Anthony’s all right.” She glanced at the paperback she was still holding in her hand and, quirking a half-smile, held it out for the man to examine. “This is Tanya Huff, haven’t read her stuff yet, but she seems pretty good too.”
The man studied the cover of the book, then raised his eyes to the girl’s. “Would you like some coffee?” he asked. He indicated the Starbucks attached to the store.
The girl glanced around at the near-empty store, shifting indecisively
on her feet. “Sure,” she finally said.
Michael felt
the grip around his neck relax and fall away. He rubbed his throat,
grimacing. The other soul muttered, “Now you’ve done it.” She
crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at Michael.
The man paused in the middle of turning for the coffee shop. “By the way,” he said, “I’m Rhody.”
The girl flashed a delighted, shy smile in return. “I’m Jenn.” The two wound their way through the stacks of books and tables towards the coffee shop, chatting amiably at the slow pace of strangers meeting for the first time.
Michael arched a questioning eyebrow at the other Guardian. She refused to take the hint, and he was forced to prompt, “You are?”
The Guardian stared at Rhody’s retreating back, snapped “Sera,” and dashed after her mortal.
“Pleased to meet you, Sera,” Michael said sarcastically to empty air.
~*~
Michael knew Jenn’s type. A romantic at heart and safely ensconced in the rosy naivete of youth, Jenn still harbored dreams of her knight in shining white armor. Being an avid reader of romance novels didn’t help steel her for the truth of reality either. In some ways, Michael envied Jenn’s unspoiled innocence. She was fresh and radiant and irrepressibly optimistic.
Michael also knew Jenn felt lonely much of the time. Even as a small orphan, Jenn had trouble making friends. People who approached her were sometimes rebuffed by her apparent coldness when in actuality, Jenn merely felt awkward and shy. The few attachments she formed rarely lasted, as she was often shifted between foster homes.
Jenn grew up alone and even now in college, her social life lacked close companionship because she still didn’t have enough initiative to reach out for friendship on her own. Her pangs of loneliness struck a sympathetic chord in Michael as he remembered his own bleak lives. His power-playing tactics had not garnered many friends.
She didn’t, however, fall in love with Rhody.
Michael’s quickly-formed impressions of his mortal floundered as, for the next few days, he watched her enjoy Rhody’s charming company with a certain rational detachment that separated her from her actions. With Rhody, some of Jenn’s loneliness dissipated, yet she remained levelheaded when it came to pinpointing how she felt about the young man.
It finally dawned on Michael that Jenn knew exactly what she wanted from Rhody, and how much of herself she was willing to commit to him. She used him for his company, but she didn’t delude herself into believing she was falling in love with him.
The rarity of finding someone this young who, at nineteen, was completely honest to herself and thus knew more about herself than most people twice her age surprised Michael. For the first time since the Guardian duty had been assigned to him, Michael contemplated Jenn with a certain amount of respect. He dropped the tiny games he had invented to amuse himself, unwilling now to toy with Jenn.
Especially since he now came in frequent contact with someone who could actually see him.
While Michael ignored the two mortals on the couch, Rhody’s own Guardian blushed and stared steadfastly at an invisible speck on the unblemished ceiling. Michael examined his perfectly manicured fingernails and buffed them unnecessarily, hiding an amused smile. Sera, it seemed, was the reserved type.
Michael corrected himself. No, she was a goddamned prude.
“So,” Michael said pleasantly, “how long have you been with Rhody?”
Sera shot him a grateful look for the distraction, mildly surprising Michael. He hadn’t started up a conversation out of consideration for Sera’s discomfort. He was simply bored shitless. With the two mortals making out on Rhody’s couch, Michael had absolutely nothing to do.
“Twenty seven years,” Sera said.
“That long?” Michael whistled, trying to imagine watching over a mortal for that length of time. He had only been with Jenn for barely over a week, and already he chafed at the responsibilities that bound him to her side.
Sera smiled, tenderness softening her features as she remembered her time with her mortal. “Since the minute he was born.”
Michael’s brow furrowed into a puzzled frown. “Are all mortals assigned a Guardian as soon as they’re born?”
“Always, though Hope believes she has become the birth Guardian of far too few mortals.” Sera chuckled. “But Hope is a compassionate Mistress, as she tries to reach all mortals, whether they be hers at birth or not.”
“I wasn’t assigned to Jenn until recently,” Michael said slowly, his hesitation voicing his question.
Sera looked askance at Michael, a thoughtful expression playing across her face. “You aren’t her birth Guardian then,” she said. “You must have a specific assignment to perform. Which makes much more sense.” She tipped a sideways nod towards the couch, her gaze still carefully avoiding the mortals. “Jenn feels too much despair to be ruled by Hope, though if I were to hazard a guess…” Sera shrugged. “I’d say Innocence has her. But these days, Innocence is weak and easily defeated. Mortals ruled by Innocence rarely last long in his care, succumbing instead to another Aspect. Usually to a Dark one.”
As Sera’s voice formed the last few words, Michael caught sight of a shadow at the corner of his eye. He swiveled his head and squinted, focusing on the shadowy figure that hovered near the couch. The activity of the mortals had calmed, and Michael could hear Rhody speaking softly.
“Shit,” he breathed. “Sera, there’s someone else here. And he don’t look too friendly.”
Sera followed his gaze quickly, her blush forgotten as she heard the urgency in his tone. “I don’t see anything.” Her voice dropped to a whisper to match his.
He pointed at the couch, scrambling off his barstool, and raced over to the shadow. “Okay buddy, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Michael growled, slapping a firm hand on the figure’s shoulder.
The shadow turned, and Michael sucked in a gasp of recognition. Woebegone’s eyes widened. “Michael?” asked the shadowy figure. “What are you doing here?” The servant of Darkness looked Michael up and down, taking in the glowing pale nimbus surrounding Michael’s soul, and narrowed his eyes. “You look different,” Woebegone said tactfully. A note of accusation threaded through the servant’s voice.
“I…” Michael faltered and stepped back. “Woebi, I have a new Mistress,” he said helplessly, then glanced down at his mortal. Jenn’s eyes looked into Rhody’s with a misty, sad expression. “You’re here for her?”
Nodding, Woebi plucked the work order from his pocket. “Yup. Just a minor dose this time though, nothing to seriously upset her. Despair has plans for her later, I think.” Although Woebegone technically served Sorrow, Woebi – as he preferred to be called, claiming it gave him a child-like roguish charm – still ran errands for Despair every so often, since the two Aspects often worked closely with one another.
“Michael?” Sera’s worried voice cut through Michael’s haze of confusion. “What’s going on?” The other Guardian drifted closer, nearer to her mortal, gnawing on her lower lip absent-mindedly.
Michael lifted his bewildered gaze to Sera. “Woebi is here. For Jenn.” At Sera’s blank look of incomprehension, Michael clarified, “Woebegone, the Dark servant.”
Sera immediately snapped to attention. She pierced Michael with a sharp look. “Fight him off then. What’re you waiting for?”
“I don’t know,” Michael said helplessly. Woebi ignored Michael’s seemingly random chatter, taking it all in stride. Woebi could not see Sera, just as Sera could not see him. He wasn’t here for Rhody. The servant of Darkness hummed merrily to himself as he puttered about his work.
Michael remembered the countless times he himself had fought off Guardians of Light while making his deliveries. His skill at completing his errands despite the attacks of the Guardians had given him an extraordinary record of success, elevating him to a favored status with his Master.
Now Michael was the Guardian… and he could only watch, torn between his duty to Jenn and his loyalty to someone he once knew and worked with.
A resounding slap across the face jarred Michael out of his stupor and he whirled upon his attacker, his indignation flaring. Sera’s cold anger washed over him like a bucket of ice water, and he blinked. “You’re letting him gain control over your mortal,” she said tightly. “Get a grip on yourself and kick his butt!”
Resentment stirred within Michael. “If Hope isn’t even her birth Guardian, then why do I have to do it?” he cried out. “Why doesn’t Innocence do something?”
“Guardians protect the mortals in their care, regardless of whether their Master is the mortal’s birth Guardian. And I’ve told you, Innocence is weak.” Sera raked a contemptuous glare over him, hands balled into fists. Michael shrank away from the condemnation in her eyes. “If all of Light’s Guardians thought the way you do,” she said, “then the mortals might as well be given to the Darkness. What else are you good for?” She stormed off to a far corner of the room and turned her back, her arms crossed.
“All done,” Woebi said cheerfully. He patted Michael on the shoulder. “Thanks for making this one easy for me. And don’t worry, it’s obvious that you were mistakenly Judged for the Light. Just wait ‘til the mortal dies and you’ll be free to rejoin us in your next afterlife.”
Somehow, Woebi’s offered reassurance failed to comfort Michael. He stared as the Dark servant waved and disappeared back into the shadows. A muffled sob drew Michael’s attention back to the couch.
“I’m sorry,” Jenn whispered, rubbing her cheek against Rhody’s bare shoulder. A few tears spilled and mingled with their sweat. She sniffled. “I don’t even know why I’m crying.”
Rhody stroked Jenn’s hair, clearly baffled by her reaction but striving valiantly for a smile. “It’s all right,” he said. He chuckled ruefully. “I’ve been through worse.”
Michael watched as Jenn plastered a tremulous smile across her face, masking her sadness and regret. A strange, uncomfortable sensation spread through his gut, and it took him several minutes to identify it.
Guilt. It ate through Michael’s insides until he groaned and jerked his attention away from the mortals. He could’ve prevented her sadness. He could’ve stopped Woebi. As Jenn’s Guardian, Michael’s most important responsibility was to protect her from servants of Darkness. No one could say that Michael had ever shirked from his responsibilities before, until now.
But Woebi had been his friend. His hands clenched into fists as he
remembered Sera’s accusing words.
What
else are you good for?
Michael didn’t have a damn clue.
~*~
A voice older than time spoke with the sparkle of light and all things good. ** He begins to question himself. **
<< He has thus far proven to be a creature of Darkness, and he will remain so, >> another timeless voice replied. The second voice lacked the radiance of the first, preferring to shroud itself in mystery and darkness.
The first voice chuckled. ** We shall see. **
~*~
Sera’s frosty company over the next several days suited Michael just fine. He lapsed into brooding moods that discouraged conversation even if Sera had been interested.
Rhody began to distance himself from Jenn, as if the young man could sense Jenn’s less than whole-hearted enthusiasm for a serious long-term relationship. Michael suspected Sera had something to do with the man’s newfound wariness. The other Guardian spent more time than ever hovering over her mortal, overseeing Rhody’s every move.
Sera’s determination to wean Rhody from Jenn only fueled Michael’s resolve to push for the opposite goal. Although he had picked Rhody out at the bookstore for his last wagering game, Rhody proved to be an exceptionally gentle and kind man. Good enough, Michael decided, for Jenn. He hoped that by throwing Jenn together with a man who would be considerate of her tender feelings, he could make up for the time he didn’t act against Woebi. If Rhody could make her happy, Michael reasoned, then happiness would cancel out sorrow.
And if Michael had been perfectly honest with himself, he would have admitted had his own selfish interests too. He needed Jenn to fall in love with Rhody to win his wager.
Michael deliberately buried his niggling conscience and threw himself into
manipulating Jenn.
It didn’t
work as easily as he thought. Sera had twenty seven years to work
with Rhody, and she guided him with the finesse of an expert. Michael
had only a couple weeks of experience with Jenn. He pushed and prodded
and poked, all to no avail. Although he could sense his mortal’s
growing attachment to Rhody, it was as if there was a physical barrier
between Jenn’s warm affection for the young man and her ability to love.
Seven weeks later, Michael had gotten nowhere. Jenn and Rhody remained close friends, but ever since the night of Woebegone’s visitation, they never again crossed the unspoken boundaries of friendship. Jenn had drawn the line and guarded the boundary with the vigilance of a prison watchdog.
“God dammit,” Michael muttered, running a frustrated hand through his hair
as he drifted after his mortal.
She strolled through the food court of the shopping mall in search of Chinese
fast food. Jenn had a weakness for steamed rice, a weakness that
absolutely baffled Michael. White and bland and plain, Michael could
see nothing redeeming about steamed rice other than the fact that it was
more fun to throw at newlyweds than uncooked rice grains. Jenn stopped
at the Panda Express, and a pleasant-faced teenager took her order.
As the teenager heaped mounds of steamed rice onto Jenn’s plate, he called out to someone standing behind her. “Hey Arty, can you give me a ride to the auto shop later tonight? I really need to pick up my car.”
Jenn glanced over her shoulder at a tall, lanky boy who looked about her age. The boy shook his head. “Sorry Mark, I got too much crap to do.”
Mark sighed. “Oh well, guess I’ll figure something out.” He rang up Jenn’s order. “Four seventy-two please.”
Jenn paid for her lunch and seated herself near the entrance to the food court. Within a few minutes, Rhody sauntered through the sliding glass doors.
Michael glowered at the approaching pair. “You guys are late.”
Sera ignored his disgruntled expression, finding a comfortable perch on the railing next to the mortals' table. “His boss called right when he was about to leave.”
“Excuses.” Michael crossed his arms, preferring to stand on the opposite side of the table rather than sit near Sera’s icy disdain. “What she’s about to tell him is gonna scare him far worse than whatever his boss had to say.”
A brief look of sadness flickered across Sera’s eyes as she glanced at Jenn. “I know.” The Guardian drew in a deep breath. “I’ve been trying to prepare him for this, but I’m not sure I did a good enough job. He fell for her pretty fast.”
Michael glanced at the young man, surprised. He had assumed Rhody’s experienced years would prevent him from caring for a teenager. “You saw it coming?”
Sera shrugged. “She’s easy to fall in love with. He loves her innocence, her honesty, her sweetness. But you only have to watch her with him for a few minutes to realize she doesn’t love him.”
“It took me longer than that,” Michael muttered under his breath.
Sera smiled sweetly. “Feminine intuition, my dear Guardian,” she said succinctly.
Jenn leaned over the table to look earnestly into Rhody’s eyes, and took one of his hands in both of her own. She started to speak in a low, determined tone. Recognizing the way the color was draining from Rhody’s face, Michael winced. “Here it comes.” He glanced at the other Guardian and raised a curious eyebrow at Sera’s distracted expression.
“Michael?” she asked in an odd, suffocated voice. “Is Jenn giving Rhody some pretty bad news?”
He bit his lip to stifle a stray giggle. “Well, she’s pregnant and she’s dumping him. Is that bad?”
“That would do it,” Sera murmured. She tilted a nod at something behind him. “Don’t look now, but I believe we have company.”
Michael spun on his heel. Fast approaching the quartet was Woebegone, a work order flapping in his shirt pocket.
“Oh shit,” Michael groaned. “Not again.”
“I guess that means one came for Jenn too.” Sera rolled up her sleeves. “Well, I hope you don’t plan on sitting back this time,” the Guardian said primly. Before Michael could mock her haughtiness, Sera launched herself at an attacker he could not see. She fought with a blazing fury that guided her as much as skill and experience, her passion lending her a devastating strength to her well-placed punches. Michael tore his admiring gaze away from Rhody’s Guardian and came face to face with Woebi.
The servant of Darkness nodded to him, as calm and collected as ever. “Michael.”
Licking moisture to his lips, Michael croaked, “Woebi.”
Woebegone’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I’ll make this easy for you,” he said with excruciating kindness. He raised a hand and slammed his fist squarely into Michael’s jaw.
Michael’s teeth cracked. The last thought that floated through his mind just before he blacked out was that he should’ve known souls felt as solid to each other as mortals did.
~*~
“Wake UP!”
The back of a hand slapped against his face, and a painful stinging along both cheeks finally began to register on him. Michael’s eyes fluttered open.
“What the hell?” he spluttered.
Sera glared down at him from her comfortable perch directly on top of him. “You suck,” she informed him darkly, making short, painful jabs into his chest to punctuate her displeasure, “I can’t believe he flattened you with one hit!”
Irritated that she witnessed his less-than-macho side, Michael shoved her off his chest. He raked his hair back into some semblance of order with his fingers, noting with satisfaction that Sera’s own coppery curls were still tousled from her fight. Odd then that Michael found himself liking Sera’s mussed up appearance more than the image of the prim and proper Guardian she had been presenting.
Michael glanced around. Jenn stood, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. “What happened?” he asked wearily.
Sera scrambled to her feet, nodding to her mortal. “I stopped the Messenger of Despair that came for Rhody and infused him with a slight feeling of hope just to tide him over this rough period, with Jenn’s news and all. But Jenn’s Messenger delivered successfully.” Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, Michael,” Sera said, shaking her head. “How long do you think she’s going to last if you keep failing?”
Michael passed a tired hand over his face, grimacing at the soreness in his jaw. “I don’t know.”
A long silence fell between the two Guardians as they watched Jenn leave. Rhody sat alone at the table. Displeasure tightened in grim lines around his mouth, but resolve etched itself into every corner of his face. Michael had the feeling Rhody wasn’t about to let Jenn go that easily.
Sera’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Michael? Aren’t you going with her?”
Michael lowered his head. “What’s the use?” he asked bitterly. “I suck at this crap.”
Sera made no reply, and Michael took her silence for agreement.
Suddenly, she tugged at his arm. “Look.” She pointed at Jenn, who had stopped at the Panda Express.
“I’m sorry,” Jenn said to the teenager named Mark. “But I was just wondering…” she hesitated, then plunged on determinedly. “I was wondering if you still needed that ride to the auto shop.”
Mark’s jaw dropped. “Are you for real?”
Michael couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. “She is kinda nutty, isn’t she?” He let out a ragged sigh. “Sometimes I can’t believe the kinds of shit she does. Why does she do stuff like that anyway? She gets nothing out of it. One of these days, someone’s gonna take advantage of her.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Michael’s anger flared. The thought of anyone exploiting Jenn infuriated him. His mortal was too sweet to deserve being used.
Guilt followed on the heels of his anger. He had started his Guardian duty by manipulating her, using her for his entertainment. If Jenn’s own Guardian was no better than anyone else, what chance did she have in this world?
“Altruism is a good feeling,” Sera said. She noticed her mortal standing to leave and started to follow, then stopped and placed a hand on Michael’s chest. He covered her hand with one of his own and stared into the fathomless depths of the Guardian’s knowing eyes. “She does it because she cares,” Sera said gently. “Your mortal has a rare, unlimited capacity for compassion, and that alone is worth saving. Not enough people care about one another.” She smiled, rueful. “Sometimes I wonder if that’s why we’re assigned as Guardians… to learn how to care again.”
Sera held Michael’s gaze for another moment, then disappeared with her mortal. Michael lowered his head, a silent question weighing heavily in his heart.
What if we never learned to care in the first place? he wondered.
~*~
Michael saw little of the Sera-Rhody pair for the next few days, as Jenn repeatedly rebuffed Rhody’s attempts to contact her. His mortal drowned herself in her work, writing and revising a completely new short story in a record amount of time. She had tossed out the guardian angel story she had intended to turn in to her professor and began a new one just a few days shy of the deadline. Michael, immersed in his own horde of self-doubts, paid scant attention to her new story, but he approved of the parts that he read. The new version was much more realistic.
Michael found himself more often than not thinking of Jenn’s plight. Was she doing the right thing by refusing an abortion as well as Rhody’s aid? Michael played out the differing scenarios in his head. Jenn a year from now breast-feeding her new baby, Jenn dressing her child in worn hand-me-down clothes, Jenn juggling a full-time job at a small local diner to support herself and her child as well as taking night classes to complete her interrupted education.
In none of Michael’s scenarios did Jenn’s ambitions and dreams come true. In all of them, the vision of Jenn’s tired face and unhappiness haunted him.
The irony of it all was that Michael had nudged Rhody into Jenn’s life because of a wager, a wager in which the only loser had been Jenn. Guilt gnawed its treacherous way through Michael until he stared from eyes as hollow as his mortal’s.
On the night ending Jenn’s ninth week of pregnancy, Michael made his decision. As Jenn lay sleeping, Michael wrenched the child from her body.
His mortal woke to the sight of her own blood staining her sheets.
Her child’s blood stained Michael.
~*~
<< So >>, the voice spoke smugly from the darkness, << what do you think of my creature now? >>
The other voice replied with unruffled calm, ** His intentions were good, and that will have more bearing on his soul than his actions. **
<< He chose Darkness over Light. >>
** He chose Death, and Death is neutral. **
The voice of darkness grumbled. << Technicality, >> it said accusingly.
~*~
“What have you done?”
Sera’s shocked whisper filtered through to Michael’s numbed senses. He looked up from his vigil beside Jenn’s hospital bed. The other Guardian hovered near him, but her mortal was nowhere in sight.
“I tried to help her,” Michael replied dully. “I thought that if she didn’t have her child, she would be free to live her ambitions.”
“You took life.” Sera seemed absolutely stunned. “Guardians of the Light never take life.”
Something snapped deep within Michael and he surged to his feet, snarling. “LOOK AT ME!” He jabbed a thumb at his chest. “Do you see the Darkness tainting my soul? Do you?”
Sera stepped back, her wide blue eyes sparkling with dawning comprehension. Michael stalked towards her until he had her pinned against the hospital wall without even touching her. His fierce stare bored into her. “I served Despair in my last afterlife. I have been nothing even remotely near saintly during my mortal lives. I belong to the Darkness, I’m not supposed to be some goddamned Guardian of Light.”
Sera matched his stare, unflinching. “The news doesn’t surprise me. When our mortals first met, you treated Jenn as if she was a toy… as if you didn’t care what happened to her, or if she was hurt.” Sera raised her fingers to his face and touched his cheek. The shock of feeling someone touch him paralyzed Michael, and he stood unmoving as she splayed her hand across his cheek and caressed him. “I am looking at you,” she whispered achingly, “and I see not a former servant of Darkness, but a Guardian drowning in remorse for all the pain he has caused his mortal.”
Michael cupped Sera’s chin in his hand and squeezed, hard. His fingernails dug white grooves in her face, but she didn’t seem to feel the pain as she continued staring up at him with a soft, trusting look in her eyes.
Michael faltered. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. Trembling, he moved to step back, but something about the way Sera continued looking at him and silently offered him her support stopped his retreat. He drew an arm around her waist and pulled her against him instead, burying his face into the curve of her neck. His shoulders jerked convulsively as he fought for control over himself.
Sera’s touch undid him in the end. Her fingers brushed against his ear in an unconsciously soothing gesture. Michael shuddered and suddenly, as if a wall had shattered, he broke down completely. “God, Sera,” he cried out. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.” The bare skin of her neck, dampened by his tears, muffled his voice but not his anguish.
Sera wrapped her arms around Michael and simply held him. “I know.”
~*~
A few weeks later, a knock at the door sounded, echoing through the near-empty apartment.
Jenn glanced up from her couch, where she rested between bouts of writing. Michael flashed a brief spurt of hope towards his mortal, encouraging her to open the door. Anything was better than the lackluster glazed look Jenn had been wearing lately. Although she recovered quickly from her stay in the hospital, she still felt as if she was somehow to blame for the loss of her child. Michael yearned to be able to tell her differently.
Jenn rose to her feet and opened the door to a solemn Rhody gazing at her from the threshold. The two mortals said nothing, simply stared at one another for a long, silent moment.
Michael met Sera’s eyes over the top of the mortals’ heads, and a tacit understanding passed between the two Guardians. Michael moved forward, placing both hands on his mortal’s shoulders. Behind Rhody, Sera mimicked the movement.
“To Hope,” Michael said.
Sera repeated his prayer. “To Hope,” she said, then added, “and to Love.”
Together, the two Guardians poured their energies into infusing their mortals with hope, lifting spirits and weaving a belief in happy endings. Working towards the same end, the powers of the Guardians met… and joined as one. With a cry, the mortals flung themselves at each other in a fierce hug. Rhody murmured soft words into Jenn’s hair, and her shoulders shook with the force of her relieved sobs.
There is so much worth saving, and we can fight for it together… Michael didn’t know whether the words belonged to the mortals, or to himself and Sera. Working so closely with another Guardian of Hope, Michael felt his powers strengthened and steadied. He felt like he conquer anything – Sorrow, Despair, even the Darkness itself.
He encountered the familiar block on Jenn’s emotions. Sera’s offered him her own knowledge and gladly Michael accepted. His powers augmented by Sera’s sure touch, Michael quickly found the knot behind the barrier.
Feminine intuition, he thought with a smile.
Jenn was absolutely terrified of abandonment. Michael couldn’t believe he had missed a reason as obvious as this. The fear must have been rooted when Jenn lost her parents as a small child, then reinforced by the loss of everything familiar to her as she moved between foster homes. By the time Jenn had grown into young adulthood, the barrier had grown impossibly impenetrable.
Until now. Michael didn’t deal in the impossible. He was a Guardian of Hope, dammit.
Muttering curses all along the way, Michael worked at the knot. Jenn brushed away every attempt as easily as she would’ve brushed away a pesky mosquito.
Sera held Michael back from a particularly vile curse. Not like that. Like this. The Guardian’s touch warmed as she drew her power from Hope. Taking his cue, Michael did the same. Trembling with the amount of Hope they held together, Michael and Sera didn’t have to untie the knot. The knot practically melted away.
Jenn’s defenses crumbled. Rhody seemed to sense it, as he drew back from her and looked at her wonderingly. “Jenn?” the young man asked softly. “You okay?”
“Rhody,” she said shakily, “I think I’m very much in danger of falling in love with you.”
Michael had no time to savor his victory. He heard them coming before he saw them.
The sound of galloping hooves thundered through the air. Sera, older and more experienced, broke apart from her mortal before Michael did. Dazed, Michael lowered his hands to his side, feeling oddly incomplete now that he was once again separate. For just one moment before they broke apart, Michael thought he had glimpsed a part of Sera that he didn’t know existed.
“Brace yourself,” Sera murmured. She threw a questioning look at Michael.
He knew what she looked for. “I’m ready,” he said firmly.
Sera nodded. “Because of the merging earlier, we’ll be able to see them both. We are as one in this, Michael. Four have become two.”
She had no time to say more. Two Messengers burst into view, each riding a nightmare the color of the blackest night. One of them removed his hood, revealing the too familiar face of Woebegone.
Woebi eyed Michael, seeing his determination. The Dark servant reined in his mare, sitting easily on the saddle as the mare pranced and chomped at her bit. Woebi grinned.
“Well done,” he said, nodding his head graciously to the two Guardians. “But I’m afraid this battle is too momentous for fists and punches, eh?”
Coolly, Sera inclined her head in a nod as regal as her bearing. “I’m afraid so.” She lifted her hand, palm upward, and a sword of pure light blazed into existence.
Automatically, Michael raised his own hand and felt the smooth shaft of a sword’s hilt slide into his palm. His gaze never wavered from Woebi as the Dark Servant called upon his own dark sword, the utter darkness of its jet-black blade reflecting absolutely no light at all.
The second Messenger broke the tense impasse. “Enough talk!” he cried. “Woe, I’ll take the wench!” Roaring a terrifying battle cry, the Messenger kicked his nightmare into a gallop and charged directly for Sera. She ducked from the overhead swing of his sword, knowing she could not possibly match the strength in his first blow. As she rolled, she flicked her wrist and sliced at the leather girth of the saddle. The mare felt the sting of the blade pierce her flesh and reared on her hind legs, almost trampling Sera, but the Guardian’s purpose was served. The broken saddle slid off the mare’s back, and the Messenger toppled off his steed with a heavy thud.
Michael bit back a cheer. The whistle of Woebi’s sword slicing through air was the only thing that warned Michael to duck and, cursing himself for being distracted, he parried Woebi’s swing with both hands on his sword’s hilt. The force of the two blades meeting reverberated through the length of Michael’s arms. He snapped his gaze to Woebi’s indefatigable grin.
“I always wanted to test my skills against yours,” the Dark Messenger said almost pleasantly as the two men held their pose.
Michael heaved against Woebi’s blade and broke the stalemate. Backing away, he circled his mounted opponent warily. “Really? I had no idea.”
Woebi’s eyes gleamed. In one deliberate fluid movement, he dismounted and tossed away the reins. “You have no idea how many of us envied you, you with that incredibly wonderful success of yours. You always knew you were the best. You defeated Guardians of Light so damned easily. And now you’re one of them.” Woebi lunged, his sword flashing in a feint.
Michael parried the feint easily, still on the defensive. His unease at being pitted against a former friend held him back from switching to the offensive. “Yup.”
Woebi met his parry smoothly. Using his off hand for leverage, Woebi forced Michael to swing wide to defend himself, then slid his obsidian blade along the inside of Michael’s radiant sword towards Michael’s heart. “Your mortal – what’s her name, Jenn? She’s cute, ain’t she?”
Michael stumbled back, the tip of Woebi’s sword dipping harmlessly towards the ground, and fought for concentration. He stamped down the anger that rose in his throat like bile as he heard the leering tone behind Woebi’s words. “Yup,” Michael said evenly.
Pressing his advantage, The Dark servant leaped forward, his blade swinging with deadly precision. He flashed a grin. “So what’s it like being able to see but not touch? Like, you know, seeing her shower and stuff.”
Michael parried the Dark Servant’s blows, slowly giving ground inch by inch. “I’m not like that,” he grated through clenched teeth. He wondered why he had ever considered Woebegone a friend. The Dark servant was despicable.
“Oh?” Woebegone launched into a well-known pattern of offensive swings that Michael recognized. “The Michael I knew would’ve jumped at the chance for voyeurism.” Just as Woebegone was about to finish and Michael raised his sword arm to parry the expected swing for his head, the servant of Darkness snapped from the routine and swung his sword in a wide one-handed arc for Michael’s side.
Michael had no time to think. His reflexes took over, arresting his movement. His wrist cracked in protest at the sudden and vicious change in direction, but he ignored it. He opened his palm to flip the hilt of his sword around until its tip pointed downward, praying that his arms held steady to block the incoming blow. The fiery blade of white light raced to meet Woebegone’s dark sword.
A sinking feeling of dread nearly swamped him. I’m not gonna make it.
Michael’s sword swung into place, the vertical shaft of light nearly parallel with his body, a split second before Woebegone’s obsidian blade crashed into it. The force of the blow shocked the Dark servant, who had not expected the solid resistance of another sword. Michael gritted his teeth and clenched his sword hilt with both hands. His eyes slid along the dark blade to meet Woebegone’s surprised ones.
Eternity hung suspended for a moment as the two men stared at one another. One soul had served the Darkness from the moment Light and Darkness had been born from the ashes of a dying universe. The other soul had been spun into existence a mere two lifetimes ago, gifted with a brilliant warrior skill that up until now, had been used in the name of the Darkness.
Images flashed before Michael’s eyes. He saw Jenn as he first met her, lonely and lost but still fighting back Despair with her irrepressible optimism. He saw Jenn blooming under Rhody’s tender attention, her sweet and vulnerable nature revealed. He saw Jenn for the woman she would become, a wonderfully kind and giving woman with a stubborn romantic streak.
Lastly, Michael saw Jenn as she lied helpless in her hospital bed, crying for the loss of her child.
Michael’s vision cleared. “The Michael you knew is gone,” he said flatly.
He shoved Woebegone’s blade to the side and, in the same fluid movement, lashed out for the Dark servant’s stomach. Woebegone gasped and jerked backwards, narrowly avoiding the point of Michael’s sword. Michael stalked towards his opponent, his eyes glinting dangerously.
The Dark Servant backed away. He assessed Michael’s singular resolve and apparently did not like what he saw, for he lowered his ebony blade. The afterlife might harbor the souls of dead mortals, but there was no afterlife for dead souls… and bravery had never been one of the Darkness’s fortes.
“We envied you,” Woebegone finally said, his terse words coming on ragged breath, “because we knew that though your soul is new, your extraordinary warrior talent marked you as someone special.” The Dark servant lifted his sword before his face in an unexpected salute. “Be well, Michael.”
Woebegone grabbed reins to his nightmare, and swung himself into the saddle. He trotted off a little ways and waited for his colleague to join him.
Seeing Woebegone ready to make a retreat, Sera relinquished her death grip on the second Messenger’s neck. The Messenger gagged and scrambled away from the battle-enraged Guardian. Even Woebegone snickered as it took three tries for the Messenger to successfully seat himself in the saddle. The servants of Darkness dug their spurs into their nightmares and galloped off, never looking back.
Sera brushed the fiery red-gold curls from her face. “Well,” she remarked, her chest heaving from the exertion. “That was rather interesting.” She glanced over at Michael and realized his gaze was placed a little lower than she liked. “What the hell are you looking at?” she snapped.
Michael grinned. “Why Sera, I do believe that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you swear.”
Sera shrugged, but a matching smile lit up her flushed face. “It’s the company I keep.”
Together, the Guardians turned to their mortals. Only one silhouette cast its shadow upon the floor – Rhody and Jenn still held on to each other as if they never wanted to let go.
Michael threw his arm companionably around Sera. “Aww, how sweet,” he said lightly, hiding the envy he felt as he saw the joy emanating from the mortals.
“You know,” Sera murmured, “he’s all wrong for her.”
“If that’s any more of your feminine intuition shit, shove it up your ass.” Michael squeezed her shoulders in a hug to take the sting out of his words. “Let them enjoy it while it lasts.”
~*~
Hope tapped her fingers restlessly against the arm of her chair. Michael didn’t exactly squirm under her scrutiny, though he came close. He had been recalled within a few hours of his battle with Woebegone. The task he had been sent to do was finished.
“So,” Hope finally said, “you’ve made your mistakes. More importantly, you’ve learned from them, I hope.”
Michael nodded, all the turmoil he had experienced in the past couple months lying naked in his eyes. Hope heaved a sigh, and waved to a shadow hovering behind her chair. With a start of surprise, Michael watched his old Master materialize from the shadow.
“What do you think?” Hope asked the Dark Aspect.
Despair met Michael’s gaze. “He wasn’t bad,” the Dark Aspect said. Although tinged with a strange note of regret, his tone was admiring.
Hope murmured her agreement. “But I still can’t take him under my
wing, much as I would like to.”
Michael shot
his Mistress a startled look. “I thought I’ve proved myself as a
Guardian of Light. I protected Jenn from Woebegone.”
Hope’s mild gaze silenced any further protests. “You took a life. The blood of your mortal’s child stains you beyond my help. And the Guilt of all your past actions since the moment of your creation riddles you full of holes like Swiss cheese.” The Aspect’s tone was distasteful as she mentioned the Dark Aspect. “Until you work off the blood debt, as well as master the control Guilt has over you, you cannot remain in my employ.”
Michael swung his attention to Despair, who cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I want you back, but you can’t work for me anymore either, Michael. You learned to nurture Hope in mortals. You even learned to care for a few people,” the Aspect said accusingly. “And I’m afraid the fact that you defeated Woebegone will make enemies among my workers, to say the least.”
Michael’s shoulders slumped, and he looked away. “I never even got to say goodbye to Sera,” he said quietly under his breath.
Hope softened, her censorious gaze gentling. “She was beginning to love you, you know.”
Michael remembered the insight into Sera’s character he had glimpsed just as they tore apart to meet the two Messengers. “I know,” he said simply. “I—” he stopped, confused, then struggled visibly to cough out, “I was beginning to care for her too.”
Hope read the truth of Michael’s emotions playing across his face, and shook her head ruefully. “Oh, Michael,” she sighed. “What are we to do with you?”
She glanced over at Despair. The Dark Aspect shrugged. “Mortal life?”
“And out of both our hands?” Hope mulled it over. “That sounds fair.”
“No,” a third voice interjected. “The ignorance of the afterlife that befalls all mortals will not help him pay his debt.” A stunned silence fell across the room as the owner of the voice materialized not from the shadow or from the light, but from the merging between the two. Recognizing him, Michael’s eyes widened. “I will take him,” Death murmured. “Relinquish your claims on him to me, Mistress of the Light.”
Hope frowned, but finally nodded once with obvious reluctance. “He belongs to neither the Light nor the Dark now. He is yours.”
Death offered his hand to Michael, who slowly lifted his eyes to meet his new Master’s. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Michael enfolded Death’s hand in his own.
The two opposing Aspects watched the unlikely pair disappear, and for a
long moment neither spoke.
Hope’s heartfelt
sigh broke the silence. “He will never enjoy working with Death,”
she murmured. “What a life this one will have.”
Despair chuckled mirthlessly. “What else would you expect,” he asked, “from one manipulated by the Light and Darkness for one of their wagers?”
~*~
The voice of Light laughed, delighted. ** I win. **
The Darkness growled. << The wager stipulated that he would remain a Guardian of Light, once he had become one. >>
** The wager was that one of my creatures could turn one of yours into a servant unfit to serve you. Under her guidance, your creature of Darkness learned to give Hope to mortals. ** The Light chuckled indulgently. ** He even admitted to caring for my Guardian. As a result, his soul could not serve you. **
<< Nor you. >>
The Light smirked. ** Technicality. His soul was still changed, regardless. **
<< Bah. He was weak and worthless to begin with. >>
** Mm. ** Wisely, the Light held back a retort. ** New game? **
<< Fine. I choose the wager this time. >>
** I choose the soul then. **
<< Done. >>