Angel Series Books 1-3 Boxed Set

The Truth Revealed

The Truth Revealed

My life was hanging in the balance. I didn’t want to be left behind to have my fate decided by others. I wanted a chance to tell my side of the story, and to plead for Danny’s life, before the inevitable death sentence.

“Danny, I want to come along,” I begged, tugging on this arm. “Please.”

He shook his head.

“You can’t. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” He patted my arm reassuringly, knowing I was concerned for his welfare. “And I’m not going to mention you per se. I’m going to find out about earth-bound angels first. When I know more I’ll come back and we can make a decision about what to do together.”

“How long will you be gone?” I was beginning to feel anxious now. Could I still suffer from anxiety attacks? “That other angel said he’d only give you forty-eight hours.”

“I hope to be back before then. Don’t worry, he shouldn’t be able to find you here.”

When I looked to him for an explanation his only answer was, “The cottage and surrounding area is special.”

Danny hugged me tightly to him and kissed me. He gently pulled my arms from around his waist, kissed each palm and stepped away. My heart fluttered as I watched him leave.

Weird, I thought, how my heart only behaves differently around him.

I headed off for a bath, then bed. There wasn’t much else I could do if I was grounded until he returned. I knew it was for my own safety, yet it riled me all the same — like being on a hit list all over again, having to hide and go on the run.

I drifted off into a restless sleep, where an army of angels descended upon the cottage and razed it to the ground, me still inside and unable to get away. I felt the angel fire lick my body and the searing pain that came with the burning of my flesh. I saw Danny being held by two angels. His body was slumped between them. Blood was slowly trickling from the corner of his mouth, and a gash on his forehead. Why can’t he heal himself? He raised his head before the flames could fully consume me and mouthed three words — I love you.

I woke up with a start, half expecting to hear the shout of angels in the garden. Would they possibly torture one of their own, if Danny didn’t talk? Had they known about me for a while, and Amrael was part of a well-planned trap?

I couldn’t get back to sleep. I didn’t feel the need for sleep anyway, so what was the point in trying? I’d only hoped that with sleep, time would pass by quickly and there would be less of a wait for Danny to return. I sat up in the bed, under the covers, and drew my knees up to my chin, hugging my legs.

If they’ve hurt him, or worse, I thought, no more hunting vampires. I’ll go after them and kill all the angels in heaven!

The wait was long and agonising. When first light filtered through the trees I dressed and went out into the garden Danny had created for me. I was still far too restless and worried to sit down calmly. I needed to burn off some of the pent-up energy that was building inside of me, threatening to explode.

The freesias were still flowering, though their season had long passed. I picked them all — an armful of sweet-scented blooms — and took them back to the house. I searched every room expect one — Danny’s room — and could find nothing that would pass for a vase. I laid the flowers in the bathroom basin and half-filled it with water — a temporary vase until I could find something better.

I headed back to the garden. I needed something — anything — that could be used as a vase, or fashioned into one. I spotted a rock that might be suitable, in the rock garden at the back of the cottage. It was about twenty centimetres long and, at its widest, as thick as my calf. It was however, at the bottom of the rockery. If I pulled it out the rockery would most likely collapse. Danny’s handiwork would be ruined.

Using my fingers, I dug a hole in the ground near the rock garden. I compressed the dirt from the hole into small hand-sized balls, until I had twelve of them. As I gently eased out my chosen rock I backfilled the area with the hard balls of dirt. It was a poor substitute for the rock, but at least the wall held. Danny could always fix it later … if there was a later. Don’t think about that now!

I sat cross-legged on the ground and turned the rock over and over in my hands. One end was flatter than the other. I would use that end as the base. I held the rock in one hand, resting it against my abdomen. I knew the rock was hard and solid, yet it was wet clay in my hands. I used my fingers to shape the body of the vase, making sure it was deep enough for the stems of my flowers. I turned the rock over and over in my hands, trying to smooth out the rough edges.

I looked up to find the sky had darkened. A storm was coming. I could smell the rain in the air and hear the distant rumble of thunder. Is this a bad omen? I hoped not. I headed inside just as the first drops began to wet the ground.

The rock vase wasn’t bad for a first attempt. It leaned slightly. Not as pronounced as the leaning tower of Pisa. Obvious nonetheless — let’s just call it modern art. I liked it, regardless of its flaws. Who knew, maybe another career path was opening up to me.

The only thing that remained to be done to complete the picture was to add flowers and water. When the vase was filled with water and chock-full of freesias I set it on the coffee table in the living room.

It’s funny the things you think about when you have too much time on your hands. I wondered if I should still refer to the table as a coffee table, given that neither of us drank the stuff. What else would you call it — a book table, a living room table, an oversized foot stool? Why have a coffee table anyway? Why not a couple of lamp tables instead — one at each end of the couch?

“Stupid coffee table,” I muttered and kicked out at a leg. The leg broke and the coffee table toppled to one side. I reached out to catch the vase before it fell, only to knock it and speed up its journey to the floor, flowers flying everywhere.

“Just my luck,” I mumbled.

I headed to the bathroom for a towel and soaked up as much of the water as I could, then temporarily fixed the table by jacking up the broken side with some of Danny’s books. Not the really old ones, though. I didn’t want to give him the angelic equivalent of a heart attack. I refilled the vase and carefully arranged the flowers before placing it on the middle of the table.

I sat on the couch, twiddled my thumbs and restlessly tapped the heel of one foot on the floor. I crossed my legs and uncrossed them. I drummed my fingers on my legs. I inspected my fingernails and ran my fingers through my hair.

When I could stand it no longer I stood up and paced from one end of the room to the other. I was desperate for something to keep me occupied. I went to my room and made my bed, neatened up the growing pile of clothes on the floor and decided I’d hand wash yesterday’s clothes in the bath. There was nowhere for me to hang them to dry, but it was something to keep me busy.

As the bath was filling up I rolled up my sleeves and sudsed the water with soap until it was cloudy. I washed one article of clothing at a time, taking care not to damage the fragile lingerie. Danny had already replaced a number of items he’d torn to shreds in his eagerness, and I didn’t want to be responsible for damaging any more.

It was a very ordinary and soothing thing to do, washing my clothes, and it took the edge off my worry. I refilled the bath twice — the water had become so dirty from mud, dust and ash — before a final rinse to wash out the soap suds. I twisted the clothes to squeeze out every drop of water I could until they were only damp to the touch, then smoothed them out and laid them along the sides of the bath to dry.

How many hours had passed? With no clock in the house and no sun to check the passing of the day I couldn’t be sure. The rain continued to pound heavily on the roof and I wished the cottage had a porch, so I could sit outside in relative comfort and listen to the rain without getting wet.

My restless legs took to walking again. I needed to do something!

Gymnastics, I thought. I haven’t had to do anything like that for a while.

I walked to the end of the hall and faced the door of the bedroom. I did a few stretches to limber up. Did I still need to limber up or had my physiology changed so much that it didn’t matter?

I commenced with a number of back handsprings — flipping my body backwards to land on my hands then flipping again to land on my feet — down the hallway to the end of the living area. Without turning I headed back, this time using front handsprings. In front of the bedroom door again, I turned to the side and cartwheeled down to the living area, stopped and cart-wheeled back. Another set of back handsprings saw me in the living area again.

It felt good to perform the gymnastic moves — moves I’d perfected when I was eighteen. My agility and flexibility were what had attracted the attention of the preacher, which was exactly my intention at the time — a ticket out of squalor into depravity.

In the living area I performed some basic handstands and a straddle split. Still in the split position, back straight and arms out to the sides, I leaned as far as I could to my left side, then to my right. I stretched towards my left leg, grabbing my foot with both hands for the count of three. I repeated the exercise with my right leg. I leaned forwards until my arms and body were pressed flat against the floor and brought my legs together behind me. Rolling onto my back, and, keeping my feet flat on the floor and my knees bent, I pushed up on my hands to execute the bridge position.

When I felt thoroughly stretched I pushed off with both legs, shifting my weight to my hands, and continued to kick my legs all the way up until I was in a handstand position. I was about to step down, one leg at a time, when the sound of someone clearing their throat distracted me. I lost my balance, tumbling to the floor. There was only one person it could be.

“Danny!” I yelled with delight and was up and had my arms wrapped around him before I’d finished saying his name.

He laughed — though it was lacking something — hugged me in return and kissed the top of my head.

“Did you miss me?” he asked, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Of course I did! I was going crazy with worry … and I was bored out of my brains.” I kissed him on the lips. “By the way, can you dry my washing for me?”

“You washed?”

I laughed. “I told you I was bored.”

“And the gymnastics?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Something else to keep the boredom and worry at bay.”

He looked at the vase of flowers. “What about the coffee table?”

I rolled my eyes. “That was an accident.”

I looked at the coffee table and the broken leg was miraculously fixed, the books back on the bookcase.

“Remind me some time to get you a proper vase.” He laughed and pointed at my vase. “That thing is hideous.”

“Hey!” I smacked his back lightly. “I made that with my own hands thank you very much, and with limited resources.”

“I’m sorry,” Danny said. “But Leonardo da Vinci you are not.”

I shuffled us over to the couch and we sat down. I was almost afraid to ask … I had to know, my heart beating frantically in my chest.

“How did your meeting go?”

“There’s good news and there’s bad news,” Danny said, no emotion in his voice.

I sighed. “Why did I know you were going to say that?”

“Which would you like first?” he asked.

“Can’t you just show me what happened? Kind of like instant replay?”

“I’m not sure I understand,” he said.

“You do know what television is, don’t you?”

“Yes, I’ve seen them.”

“Well, during big sporting events they can replay something that’s just taken place, to analyse the play or move, and walk the viewer through the events. Can’t you do something similar?” I thought of another analogy he might understand better. “Kind of like what you did when you showed me Satan’s fall and all those monsters, but with sound.”

Danny looked at an area of the living room that was empty and two hazy three-dimensional ghostly figures appeared. After a moment they solidified. One I recognised, the other I assumed was his superior — he who had a common name among mortals. The name we weren’t allowed to speak out loud.

“All I need is a bowl of popcorn,” I mumbled.

“Pardon?” Danny asked.

I waved my hand dismissively. “Nothing, just a mortal thing. How do you press play on this thing?”

He looked confused. “You mean you want me to start?”

For all the hundreds of thousands or millions of years that angels had been around, they sure didn’t pay much attention to what was happening in the mortal world, which was probably quite exciting compared to the age of the dinosaurs and stuff.

“Yes, please.”

“Danizriel,” the other angel said, sounding surprised, but pleased, “reporting in again so soon?”

“Yes, Michael. I have some … questions,” he said hesitantly. When Michael remained silent he continued. “Another angel — Amrael — has told me things I have difficulty believing. I’m not saying that he wasn’t truthful,” he was quick to add, “as that is not our way. Yet the things he has told me have made me doubt my own knowledge of angelic lore.”

“Oh?” Michael asked, not sounding the least bit curious.

“Have I been so wrapped up in my work that I have become out of touch with what is happening in our world?” Danny swept his arm from left to right, to indicate the domain he was talking of.

Michael’s curiosity was piqued now. “What has Amrael said to make you think thus?”

Danny said simply, “He talked of earth-bound angels.”

“Ah!” Michael replied knowingly. “Come sit and we shall talk.”

Two billowy white chairs appeared — are they clouds? — and they sat opposite each other.

“Is it true?” Danny asked, clasping his hands and leaning forward in the chair.

“The archangels have known of earth-bound angels for a very long time,” Michael said matter-of-factly. “Some of us chose not to pass on that knowledge.”

“Why?” Danny sounded shocked that what Amrael had said was indeed true. “What purpose is there for holding back this knowledge?”

“There was …” Michael hesitated as he thought of an appropriate word to describe the circumstances under which information would be withheld, “dissension amongst the archangels. Some believed He did not think we could accomplish our assigned tasks. They thought that we must have failed Him in some way, thus the army of earth-bound angels. Others thought that judgement day would never come, so it mattered little. Very few, like myself, believe that if judgement day does come to pass, the stronger our numbers the better.”

“But why didn’t you tell us, Michael,” Danny persisted, “your army?”

“Perhaps I was misguided to keep it from you and the others,” Michael said thoughtfully. “I was not certain of the reactions the news would receive. If there was dissension amongst the archangels surely it would be doubly so amongst those we commanded? That was my sole reason for withholding information — until it was required to be known, at judgement day.”

Danny pressed on in his interrogation of Michael. “Amrael mentioned something about an edict concerning earth-bound angels.”

“I know of no edict.” Michael leaned forward, interested now.

“He said Raphael had ordered his troops to hunt and kill the earth-bound angels.”

I wondered if that would get Raphael into trouble. What would the repercussions be for Danny? It would be obvious to Amrael who had talked to Michael — he already knew that was Danny’s intention.

Michael straightened up. From the look on his face he appeared surprised and angered by this piece of news. His face quickly changed to a mask of impassivity.

“As I said, I know of no edict,” he replied calmly.

Danny nodded his head, satisfied with Michael’s response.

“Is it possible for an earth-bound angel to be activated before their time, ahead of the apocalypse?”

Michael leaned back again, pressed his fingers together and rested his elbows on the arms of the chair.

“Yes.”

“What is the catalyst for this?”

I could almost hear Michael’s mind ticking over, wanting to know why Danny was asking about how earth-bound angels could be activated, wanting to know in what direction he was steering the conversation.

“Usually something unnatural occurs to them, although in very rare cases some seem to instinctively know they are different and somehow activate themselves.”

“What do you mean by unnatural?”

“Quite simply it means they have been corrupted by something that is not,” Michael raised his hands to the heavens, “His creation.”

“Corrupted?” Danny wanted clarification of exactly what Michael’s definition of corrupted was.

“In every case we have encountered the evil within spreads quickly, like a virulent disease. It corrupts the soul as well as the body.”

Danny tried to seem casual about it by leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. If he didn’t fool me, how the hell did he expect to fool Michael, who had known him pretty well forever?

“How long does it take, before they’re shrouded in evil?”

“Only a matter of days,” Michael sighed. He sounded full of sorrow for those earth-bound angels that had been infected with evil. “Once the poison is in their system, and as they have no defences like mature angels, having been mortal before being infected, the change takes place swiftly.”

That meant I was different. That had to be a good thing, didn’t it? I gripped Danny’s arm. It was like watching a really interesting movie and the twist in the plot had been revealed, and boy, what a twist!

“What happens to the ones that are corrupted?” Danny asked.

Michael seemed somewhat sad at the question, his eyes full of a pain and compassion that was only rivalled by Danny, and I found myself feeling sorry for him.

“They’re disposed of. There’s nothing else we can do for them.”

Danny stood up.

“Thank you, Michael, for answering my questions so candidly. If I have your leave I have patrolling to attend to.”

Michael held up his hand to stop Danny. “A moment, Danizriel.”

He walked over to Danny and placed an ancient hand — he looked much older than Danny — on his shoulder.

“We have known each other a long time.” Michael’s voice took on a pensive note and his eyes drifted to a point above and behind Danny. “If angels could have children, I’d like to think you would have been my son, we who have fought side by side and seen much.” He looked back to Danny again. “You know that you can come to me at any time to discuss … whatever is on your mind. Unlike some of the archangels, I would work with you, rather than against you for my own purposes.”

Was Michael telling Danny that if he felt he had a secret he would gladly share whatever the burden was with him, or even take it away?

Danny clasped Michael’s arm and nodded. “Thank you. Am I free to go now?”

Michael let go of Danny’s shoulder and waved him away. “As you wish …”

The imaged faded and Danny turned to me.

“I wanted to ask him what I was to do if I came across an earth-bound angel, corrupted or not, but I feared his answer … I do not want to go against his orders. We have been through much together — the fall of angels, the rise of mortals.”

“I understand. I’ve put you in an impossible situation. And what of that other angel, when the forty-eight hours are up? He’ll be expecting me dead.”

“And he’ll be sorely disappointed,” Danny replied dryly. “I’ll try and get a message to him. I want to organise to meet him on his territory, to sort out this matter once and for all.”

“I’m coming with you,” I said. “He may be an angel, but I don’t trust him and —”

Danny held a finger against my lips to stop me talking. “We’ll discuss it later, when I know if he’s willing to talk.”