Justice (Angel Calling, #1)

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER ONE Four days earlier

‘We are not human beings having a spiritual experience, rather we are spiritual beings having a human experience.’

The words, credited to Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, a French philosopher, paleontologist, and Jesuit priest, are familiar to most people without them completely understanding their true significance.

I contemplated these words while I lay on top of the floral bedspread in a comfortable motel room, my linked hands supporting my head on the too-soft pillow.

Like always, it felt good to be back inside my human frame. The sensation was as comforting as slipping on a favorite pair of blue jeans; the worn denim, soft and forgiving, shaping itself to familiar contours.

I liked motels. They suited me. Mostly because you can park in front of your room, serving the twofold purpose of being able to keep an eye on your vehicle and shorten the distance to carry your luggage. But best of all, you can come and go without walking through a lobby and making eye contact, or unnecessary polite conversation with the reception staff.

Kinda’ makes me sound like I’m running from the law.

I smirked. Far from it. I came here to seek justice for someone who couldn’t.

But I digress. So, what does it mean to have a human experience? I have fielded this query numerous times throughout my angelic history.

There is a God! Although we refer to God as a He. He is neither male, nor female, but is pure energy, so powerful that He cannot exist in solid form. Known to humans by many names and identities, and referred to in the male gender. It’s easier for humans to relate this way, for on this planet, the male of most species is the stronger and more dominant.

We were created as spiritual beings, incarnated into human form in this world... hence the term ‘spiritual beings having a human experience’.

Put here to have lessons; life lessons for our spiritual growth. Continually reincarnating until we attain a perfected soul, experiencing sometimes hundreds of lives, repeating the same lesson over and over until we have mastered it.

Never His intent that we worship Him, but rather, like a businessman who creates His own company, He wants it run according to His instruction. Our reward? To be incarnated into Angels of God.

I don’t mean religious zealots, tasked to seek divine vengeance; but messengers of God; a servant, employee, or officer, carrying out duties to assist mankind in their journey.

This is where I come in. I am one such being. A Warrior Angel. My name? Justice. My mission? To seek justice for those that can’t.

I slid off the mattress and walked to the window, pulled the drapes to one side and gazed out into the deserted car park. The rain hadn’t eased since my arrival an hour ago, and now it spewed down, the water pelting sideways in relentless fluid sheets.

Puddles formed on the bitumen and I watched a housemaid, her clothes and shoes saturated in the few seconds it took to run from one room across the yard to a door in the main building.

I felt an inexplicable, stupid sadness for my hire car parked out in the atrocious weather, a glossy black, Jeep Grand Cherokee high-performance SUV, which I had fallen in love with at first sight. Huge drops smashed against the car’s hood and bounced off to land in the many pools surrounding it.

It’s a common characteristic with mankind to humanize inanimate objects as if they had feelings and emotions, and in my human form I was no different.

A flash of lightning lit up the gloomy sky, jagged, and pale purple in color, I counted the seconds to hear the clap of thunder. Louder than I’d anticipated, it shook the glass panes making me jump.

A barely discernible form appeared in my line of sight amid the thick downpour. I peered out into the vacant lot, rubbing my eyes in disbelief. A lone figure stood in the drenching downpour. He turned on the spot, taking in his surroundings. His body was large and intimidating at six feet and six inches, with shoulders and arms to put the biggest line backer to shame.

He wore a long black coat, which repelled the rain, drops hitting the material like bullets, and sliding down to land at his feet. His thick legs were encased in black pants and huge military-style boots completed the menacing outfit. Large white wings with gold edging on the top and dark red feathers on the tips, adorned his back.

Long red hair, made darker by the water was tied back into a low ponytail and rested between his shoulder blades. His features set into a grim countenance, lips pressed tightly together as he scanned the landscape, water sluicing off his face.

It was a figure I recognized instantly, although I had never met him. It was Samael. An Archangel of the highest order - the Angel of Destruction and Death. He is an accuser and a seducer. Similar to Lucifer, but unlike the evil Satan, Samael is regarded as both good and evil. His position in the heavenly realm is solid as he is often tasked with grim and destructive duties. Samael is described as the ‘Severity of God’. A Warrior Angel - and my boss.

I tunneled my fingers through my disheveled hair in an attempt to neaten the pillow-mussed strands, rubbing the back of my neck in the process and watched as he turned. His eyes narrowed on my face before moving purposefully in my direction.

Unaffected by the deluge, large strides brought him to the front of my motel room and I went swiftly to open the door before he could knock. I needn’t have bothered as the wooden entry swung wide open, giving admission to the tempest and the Angel.

Strange, light burgundy eyes ran over me, assessing, before he entered and closing the door behind him, shook the beaded water off his shoulders.

I dropped to one knee in respect and admiration. “My lord.”

“Rise.” The one word was spoken with the deep voice of authority.

His presence filled the room making it appear even smaller as he prowled around, touching my laptop, which sat on the dining table. He moved to the small kitchenette and gazed out the back window.

“My Lord. You grace me with your presence.”

He ignored my words, still surveying the view from the window, his body blocked the grey light and darkened the room further. I patiently waited for him to reveal the reason for his visit. He finally turned to me, and what I can only assume was a smile, parted his lips.

“Do you know why you were chosen for this mission?”

I shook my head. “I never know the reasons behind the Angelic Counsel’s decisions.”

He nodded. “I chose you personally.”

He watched my reaction with his curious raptor eyes, not missing a single emotion playing across my face.

I felt pleasure and bafflement in equal measure. “I’m honoured my Lord. Why me?”

He came toward me, stopping only feet from my position still near the door. His eyes seemed to peer into my very soul. “At times incarnated souls are bad, very bad. They do evil, unspeakable acts. God has allowed humans to deal with these evil souls on their own terms and most of the time they get it right. Sometimes however, evil goes unpunished. If it goes on for too long, we are sent in to give humanity a helping hand and provide a balance. Which brings us to this four-star motel in Oregon.”

He looked around the room, his regard lighting on the bed. He walked over to it and looked down on the crumpled bedspread. “It is time you earned your colored feathers. Not everything will be clear and understandable, but you must commit to delving into the secrets. All will be revealed in due course.”

His actions and cryptic words puzzled me and I longed to question him, but after he had just told me it would be explained to me in time, I held back. Samael took the two steps necessary to return and stand in front of me. “You are not to go into this mission with preconceived ideas, allowing your emotions to guide you, no matter how sensitive the assignment becomes. Remember, the mission is always paramount.”

I was humbled by his words. For whatever reason I had been chosen for this assignment, I knew it was a big deal. Perhaps it would affect an important event in mankind’s history?

“I appreciate your trust in me, Lord Samael.”

He nodded to me and reached out a hand to place it on the top of my shoulder. I felt his strength seep into my body where he touched.

“There are challenges we all must face. Sometimes difficult, often painful. There is a matter that others before you have been unable to resolve. You will finish it. Use your powers sparingly. Humans must not know we walk among them, else they venerate the messengers instead of giving The Almighty the homage and exultation.”

“I understand. I hope to complete my mission, and won’t let you down.” I voiced the words, although I didn’t fully understand ‘the matter that others couldn’t resolve’, but I had faith that it would be disclosed at the appropriate time. And if Samael had selected me for this duty, then I would put every effort into closing it.

Archangel Samael looked deeply into my eyes. His own, mesmerising in their intensity. “I know you won’t. Tis why I chose you.”

With that, he pulled open the front door. The rain and wind swept into the room with his actions. Undeterred, Samael stepped outside into the downpour. Standing next to my car, the ‘larger than life’ angel seemed to dwarf even that as he lifted a fist before placing it over his heart in the universal Angelic gesture of solidarity. He then spread his mighty wings and flew upward in another clash of lightning.

Pushing the door closed against the squally storm, I rested my back against the cool wood and closed my eyes.

“Holy shit.”

My voice sounded shaky to my own ears. I let out a deep breath and paced the room, my head filled with thoughts of Samael and our encounter. Something important was going down and I was a part of it. I longed to earn the colored feathers that adorned senior angels’ wings. To date, my feathers were pure white. This mission and all the undisclosed intel was my foot-in-the-door moment, and I didn’t want to blow my chances of moving up the angelic ladder.

Glancing at the black multi-functional digital watch on my wrist, I winced at the wasted day. 4 pm and it was already darkening. Samael must have halted time briefly on his entry and exit so no one would see him. Angels could freeze time as long as it’s only for the smallest of periods, so as not to interfere with mankind’s time-phase.

Keen to start my mission and uncover the great mystery of this assignment, I made myself coffee, ripping open two of the small sachets provided by the motel. The need to keep my body wired with caffeine was a pleasant consequence of existing in human form. If an avid craving for very sweet coffee was one of the disadvantages... meh, I could live with that.

The human body I chose to inhabit for my earthly undertaking was the same form as my final incarnation on Earth over one hundred years ago - an Australian sheep farmer in the late 1800’s. God’s creative energy allowed this body to be reanimated for such purposes.

Standing tall at over six-feet, and in my early forties, I had the rugged good looks of a man of the earth. My thick, dark hair, splashed with a scatter of gray dispersed around the fringes, lends me an air of authority.

Years of hard work under the hot Australian sun and performing tough, physical tasks, had honed my muscles to create an athlete’s physique. I was solidly built, without being too pumped up like those steroid popping muscle dudes. That wasn’t the image I wanted to convey as a tough investigator. I wanted to be serious, but keep a raw edge so people thought twice about messing with me.

It was imperative that humans thought of me as one of their own, so as per Samael’s instructions, I was masquerading as a private investigator, feigning research for a book on the disappearance of children. My disguise would allow me to work with the police, find evidence, and bring judgment to a murderer who thought he had gotten away from the law.

On automatic pilot, I stirred the hot liquid in my cup while I gazed from the small window in the economical kitchenette. The same scene Samael had looked upon only moments before. The view the back of my room provides is of a steep incline overlooking the Cold Mountain River from which the motel derived its name.

A slow-moving watercourse most of the year, in the spring it flowed with force, swollen with the winter melt, emptying its contents into the Columbia River before it travels downstream to Cascade Locks.

It was well on its way to becoming frozen with the better part of Autumn finished. The trees that followed the river were stark and almost leafless, the colorful reds and yellows of The Fall giving way to a brown carpet of mush. Today, the black water flowed unhurried, its surface pockmarked by fat raindrops, while the occasional swirl drew attention to its icy currents.

The hot liquid slid down my throat as the purpose of my mission crowded my thoughts - the disappearance and murder forty years ago of Christine Conroy. Commissioned by the Angelic Counsel and assigned with the goal of locating and bringing accountability to her murderer who, according to the Counsel, still resided in this small township.

Christine’s body remained undiscovered, and I wondered where the poor girl lay. Was she lying under the water, her small lifeless body trapped beneath fallen logs and twisted branches? I vowed to find her and bring her family the long-awaited reparation, providing some measure of closure in the process.

I lowered myself into one of the chairs at the small round wooden dining table and unlocked the screen on my laptop - even Angels kept up-to-date with modern technology.

I double-clicked the file on the desktop. Although I’d read all the information regarding the investigation given by ‘The Angelic Counsel’, as well as any news-worthy articles I could glean off the Internet, I had time to kill. I re-examined some of the data and familiarized myself with the details, committing them to memory.

Forty years ago, on July 4th, 1976, with everyone busy with the holiday celebrations, thirteen-year-old schoolgirl, Christine Conroy, vanished from her backyard. To the townsfolk her disappearance remained a ‘missing person’ case. But I knew otherwise.