The Unveiling

Chapter Twenty

We were in the middle of our twelfth card game when Chase barged into the room and marched towards us. 

He grabbed my wrist and said gruffly, "we have to leave." 

"But we're in the middle of a game," Gracie wined. 

Chase's eyes softened as they landed on his younger sister. She was actually pretty good at cards, her mind spinning at a speed that at times even I struggled to keep up with. 

"We'll be back soon Gracie," he assured her softly. 

"Can't I come with you?" She begged, as Chase actually rolled his eyes in response. 

"Gracie, we've spoken about this," he spoke softly, but firmly. 

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from smiling. It seemed no matter the realm, all children were, at their core, the same. 

"It's not fair," she moaned, flinging herself dramatically onto the bed. 

This time I did smile as his eyes bore into mine, begging me to help. 

"Gracie," I said slowly. 

She opened her eyes and looked at me. 

"I need to go home," I explained, "before anyone from my realm comes looking for me." 

Her lips wobbled slightly, and so I found myself saying, "but, I promise I will come and visit and you can beat me some more at cards." 

Her eyes lit up. "Really?" She asked. 

"Really," I nodded my head, avoiding Chase's gaze. 

I stood up with Chase, his fingers slowly linking through my own, sending the lick of warmth through my body that I now solely associated with him. 

He stepped back, the world rippling around us once more, colours distorting, images fractured. The last thing I saw was Gracie watching us leave from the bed. 

As the world reorganised itself around us I gasped as I looked up at the red clay brick building of Shay's loft apartment. 

Chase turned on his heel, marching towards the bright blue truck still parked on the sidewalk - no doubt, thanks to Shay and his gang. 

"Aren't you going to even tell me why we had to go to your realm?" I asked towards his broad back, bunching and stretching with each step he took, visible even with the leather jacket. 

He shook his head once, opening the truck quickly for us to pile in. 

"What happened?" I demanded. 

His face was strained, and as he pulled away from the sidewalk he said, "there was another death." 

Without another word, he produced a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to me. 

WAR IS HERE. 

HAVE YOU CHOSEN YOUR SIDE? 

JUMP WORLDS WITH ME. 

LET'S COLLIDE. 

I clutched that piece of paper between my fingers and re-read the message over and over again, muddling some sense out of it. 

"What does it mean?" I asked, finally admitting that I didn't understand. None of this made sense to me. 

"We're dealing with a world jumper," he said, as if that statement explained everything. As if it were the most obvious thing to be presented out of this mess. 

I squeezed my eyes shut in growing frustration. 

"What does that mean?" I ground out. 

Chase's knuckles whitened as he drove smoothly, "it means that the culprit is someone who can jump between realms." 

"But don't you jump between realms?" I asked in confusion. 

He huffed in annoyance, "to travel between realms you have to go through the official channels. Only those authorised are able to, and they need this," he pulled out a chain tucked beneath his shirt, hanging around his neck.

A black looking compass hung from his neck, threaded with gold filigree in a pattern resembling a bird mid-flight. 

"Only a handful have been issued to each realm, and only select people within those realms are entrusted with them," he continued. 

"So this world jumper has one of these?" I asked, trying to follow his train of thought. 

"No," he said, "that's what's odd. We've checked all the records of inter-realm travel, and none of them match up with these deaths and letters." 

"What does that mean?" I demanded, "That someone can travel through realms without one of those things? How is that even possible?" 

"There is one theory," he said, and simply by the tone of his voice I knew that I wouldn't like these turn of events. 

I paused, waiting for him to continue, knowing that we were on the cusp of something that would alter everything. 

“Angels, traditionally speaking, don’t need an amulet,” he said, watching my reaction. 

“okay,” I paused, “so you think an Angel did this?” I asked. 

“No,” he shook his head, “it would defy the agreement between realms.”

“What aren’t you saying?” I asked pointedly. 

“I’m saying that someone with Angel blood has done this.”

I stared at him incredulously, “You think I’ve done this?” I growled. 

He shook his head emphatically, “No,” he uttered, “I told them that it couldn’t have been you, that I’ve been with you the entire time.” 

I stared at him in shock. 

“Thank you for defending me,” I said sarcastically, “although I’m not sure why my innocence was ever in question.” 

He shut his eyes for a moment and spoke, “this whole debacle has brought into question around the validity of you being the only one with an angelic bloodline. I mean, what if there was another? What if that person was operating completely under our radar.” 

He turned and looked at me in earnest, “I need you to ask the Angels. The next time you connect or they make contact, I need you to ask them if you are the only one.” 

I stared at him for a moment. The slight flush of his cheeks, his silver-grey mercurial eyes, those bow shape dlips. I fought my body from leaning into him and said, “No.” 

His expression registered the shock of my denial. 

“No,” I said again more forcefully. “Firstly your people imply that I may somehow be involved - to the point where you have to defend me, and Secondly why?” I asked, “Why should I help you uncover this secret when you yourself have kept so much from me?” I demanded. 

We drove through the boomed gate undisturbed, Chase remaining quiet. 

“You control all the elements Chase - ALL OF THEM - and while we don’t owe each other anything, as my trainer surely you could have told me. You’ve seen me struggling. You’ve seen me feeling alone, and isolated and unique in all the ways that make me an outcast that simultaneously serves as a trophy, and yet you didn’t say anything.” 

Still, I was met with silence. 

“You didn’t say anything when you, yourself have experienced the same thing. So don’t sit here and ask me for help, when you couldn’t be bothered to throw me a damn lifeline while I’ve been drowning.” 

“That’s not fair, he rumbled, his eyes swirling in anger. “If you would stop being a child  for five minutes you would realise that this request is less about you and more about the people being murdered.” 

I opened the door, sliding out the car as he pulled up to our house and said, “I’m sorry that you view me as a child, perhaps you’ll find more comfort with Mirabell.” 

He slammed his hands against the steering wheel and groaned, “Why are you so infuriating?” he demanded. 

“I guess for the same reason you’re an asshole,” I said, letting myself into the house while I left him to deal with the stolen truck. 

I made my way to my room, shutting out the light, content to sit in the darkness, allowing my thoughts to consume me. 

I knew that he was right. I knew that I would have to contact the angels and ask them, but the sheer fact that he didn’t tell me that he too was alone in his power left me wanting. It made me question all the small connections that perhaps I had added up in my mind, making them something more. To him I was a child in need of coddling. And I suppose, compared to his years of power and abilities, I was childlike. 

Worse still, I knew my outburst would only validate his view of me. 

I blew a stray strand of hair out of my face as I sat and waited. I waited for the tell-tale sign of rapping at the door. I waited for the suits to arrive, to demand where we had gone. I waited for someone to sweep in and restrict my movements even further. 

None of that happened. And so I sat in silence, occasionally I heard the shuffle of foot-steps from the other-side of the door, the knocking of dishes from the kitchen. All sounds of a home lived in. 

And when dinner time rolled around, I didn’t rise and make my way towards the kitchen - towards Chase, instead I hunkered down on the bed, allowing the darkness to pull me under, as I counted my breaths. 

I fell into the murky darkness, opening myself for connection within my mind. I needed answers from Seraphim, I needed to know that I, somehow, wasn’t alone. I passed doorways, alleyways, and passageways, and still I allowed myself to fall. 

It was one of those free falls that made you feel like your stomach would rise right out of you. I gulped the feeling down, and still I dropped. 

I dropped until I slowed, floating gently down. 

A hidden alleyway presented itself, it’s walls made from the darkness of my mind. I wandered along, trailing my fingers along the walls, my urgency and need suddenly gone, and I found myself content to simply wonder and see where this passage would lead to. 

At the end of the darkened alley, vertical bars ran from ceiling to floor, and behind it sat a suit with the head of a pig. 

I leaned against the wall and said, “You know Silas, some may argue that we are far closer in relation to pigs than we realise.” 

He snorted in amusement. 

“You discovered my name,” his eyes shone with excitement, his voice distorted by the vocal cords of being a pig. 

“You doubted me,” I tusked. 

“Never,” he answered, “I knew you would, it was why I chose you.” 

And maybe it's because I felt so alone in this world, but I sat down and asked, "what will you do when you get free?" 

His eyes lit up, his face shifting to that of a chimpanzee. 

He smiled and it was horrific, all teeth and gums. What would have been cute on the actual creature, looked grotesque on him. 

"I will bring the gods to their knees for putting me here," he spoke with such vigor that my blood ran cold. 

"I will raise the armies of the dead and ride into battle, meeting them head on. For I am not the only one they have wronged." 

He turned, his black eyes meeting my own, "and anyone who doesn't help me, anyone who actively gets in my way, well, they will meet the same fate." 

I shivered, recalling the feel of his hands wrapped around my neck - even if it was merely a projection, a figment. 

I flashed him a smile of my own, shoving my panic and fear deep within me. 

"What was it like being a Pharaoh?" I asked, changing the subject.

He leaned back in his chair and smiled, a fleeting look of nostalgia crossing his face. 

"It was wonderful," he confessed, "it offered me everything and more." 

"And what of those that served you? Did they live as well as you?" 

His eyes shuttered for a moment. 

"In some ways yes and in some ways no," he answered. 

I leaned forward, "How so?" I asked, intrigued. 

"In the end it's all about connection. Connections with other beings. A feeling of mattering enough to someone else on the most basic level." 

I shifted closer, relaxing as he spoke. 

"So you see, in some ways their lives were ultimately better than mine, simply because of the connections they made. I made connections, but looking back now, they were more obligations than anything else." 

"Do you miss it?" I asked carefully. 

His turn to shift forward, as if he simply had a secret to share. 

His hand shot out through the bars and wrapped themselves around my neck. It happened that fast. One minute we were discussing his physical lived life, and the next he was strangling me. 

He stood up, dragging my body against the bars with his, my legs and arms kicking and flailing. 

"FREE ME!" He roared, his eyes a pool of rage. 

I tried to remember. I tried to remain calm, and as I struggled to breathe and dizziness overcame me, I imagined a tsunami made up entirely of myself wash over him, knocking me free and banishing him from my mind. 

I sat up and felt my throat, expecting tenderness and pain. 

It felt normal. 

I stood up, huffed out my own annoyance at myself and drew myself back into my physical state, tapping each brick of my walled shield on my way out. Double-checking and reinforcing.