Undone by a Broken Angel

12.) A New World

"And God said, 'Let the earth sprout vegetation, plants yielding seed, and fruit trees bearing fruit in which is their seed, each according to it's kind, on the earth.'"

-Genesis 1:11

Waking up is difficult.  My head swims with a dull ache as though I rested too much.  Voices meet my ears, but I can’t focus on them to know what they’re saying.  I slip back under for a moment, and I see the orphanage again- I remember how the voices used to circle around me while I slept.  There was a distinct smell and it reminds me of the smell of my chamber pot that hadn’t been emptied in a week.  I remember how the paint was peeling at the walls and how cold it always seemed to be in the morning.  I shiver.  There’s a lot of shouting now and I try to wake up.  My eyelids are heavy, but I force them open.  

There’s a fireplace in front of me, but there is no wood in it, nor is there a fire.  My blanket is on the hardwood floor- I assume I tossed it off in my sleep.  The room I’m in is bare and the color on the walls are dull, faded over time.  There are no curtains on the windows and I have to wonder where I am because I certainly don’t remember coming here at all.

People are shouting, I notice now.  He aching in my head had kept the attention off of them, but now the voices seep into my consciousness as I slowly wake up and the pounding in my head subsides.  I can hear Jack’s voice clearly and he sounds agitated, on the edge of anger, and I’m curious as to why.  I’ve never seen him worked up; he was always gentle around me, so I wonder what could be making him speak this way.  The other voice I can’t identify.

“Why didn’t you send a letter?” an unfamiliar voice asks.

“I ran out of ravens,” answers Jack, his voice sharp.

“Explain!”  The owner of this voice is demanding, aggressive, as though he needs to assert his dominance in order to keep it.  I’m apprehensive about trusting this person. 

“I didn’t have much time, Nathanael,” Jack reminds him, trying to keep his voice even and his anger is in check.  

There is a long pause from Nathanael, but I can feel the tension from all the way up here.  The voices are coming from downstairs, I conclude, based on the way they bounce around the walls and up through the fire place.

“Thank you for bringing her home.  You have done our kind a great service, but you cannot stay.  You understand, don’t you, Abraham.”

Ah.  So Abraham is his real name.  I turn it over in my mind and decide that I like it- it suits him.  The other half of his statement, though, bothers me.  Why is he treating him like he’s not falcone?  By the tone of his voice I can assume that Abraham is not welcome here, but why?  Is it the evil feeling I feel around him?  I find that I don’t want him to leave, I’m not ready to be thrown in the mix of people I don’t know, in a place I don’t know, and in a culture I don’t know.

“She trusts me.  You send me away now and she’ll follow,” Abraham argues.  “You don’t know how stubborn she is.”

“You almost killed her,” Nathanael grits out between his teeth, as though Abe needed the reminder.  “Do you think you can control it?”

Jack hisses.  I can actually hear him hiss.  The sound sends a shock wave through my body and the familiar darkness that surrounds him meets me.  It’s shocking enough to sit me up and pull me out of bed.  I notice that my attire has changed.  In place of my layers upon layers of skirts, fabrics, corsets, and shawls, I’m clad in a simple white tunic and a pair of trousers.  My feet are bare and the hardwood feels cold on my toes.  I make my way to the stairs and step down them, descending into the shadow of evil that surrounds Jack.

“Stop,” I tell them with as much authority as I think I hold, though I’m not sure how far it will go.  I find myself in a simple one room floor plan.  The kitchen is just as simple as the room I woke up in.  The paint also peels off the cupboards and I can tell the house barely gets used.  There’s a table and a set of rickety chairs.  The counter tops is a slab of wood and the sink appears to be a bowl sunk into the thick cut of wood.  There are no wall hangings or curtains of any kind.  The only sign of life besides the two men in the room, is the fire roaring in the hearth, an empty pot hanging just out of reach of the flames.

The two men freeze, then turn to face her.  Abraham, my Jack, looks tired; his whole body sags with exhaustion, but he looks relieved to see me on my feet.  His hair is mussed, the brown ends pointing in every direction and dark circles cushion his cocoa brown eyes.  He gives me a small smile, and then it’s gone, his features filled with sadness.  

Under his gaze it dawns on me that I’m in different clothes.  I noticed it before, but now I really notice.  Nathanael doesn’t look strong enough to pick me up to remove layers of soaking wet clothes, and then to manipulate my limbs into the dry set of clothing.  I blush thinking about it, but I’m glad it was Abraham’s hands that removed my dress and his eyes that saw my naked form.  Am I embarrassed?  Of course, but I can’t be a child and throw a fit about decency when I could have fallen ill had I stayed in the rain soaked dress.  I heat up under his eyes, my blush extending up to my hair line.  The darkness rolls off him, but I don’t give it any thought, I’m trapped in his beautiful eyes.

But the other man in the room clears his throat and my eyes are forced to look upon him.

He’s extremely old- wrinkles shape his wise face, but I can see that he’s strong enough to keep his own if he chooses.  His hair is silver and his eyes are brown rimmed with a dark forest green.  In his seated position, I can hardly see his wings- which seem to be a tan color.  He smiles at me, the crows feet around his eyes deepening into large crevices.  I don’t know if I like him yet.  “Well, hello, Miss Grace.  How are you feeling?”

“As well as to be expected,” I answer.  There’s no reason not to, as since they’ve stopped fighting, I can at least distract them further by keeping their attention on me.

“Oh, wonderful,” he turns to Abe, “Look how polite she is.  You should take some lessons.”

Abraham rolls his eyes and takes a deep sign.

Nathanael  could thank my guardians for that.  They drilled politeness into me since I became their adopted daughter.  I had to practice it day and night, most of it not making much sense, but I listened to them anyway.  Better to do as they say instead of being shunned of any affection.  Not that I got much of it anyway.

Nathanael turns back to me.  “Welcome to the village, princess.  This is your new home now.  You don’t have to worry about reapers here.  I am Nathanael, but you must call me Teacher, for that is what I am to you.  Do you understand?”

Wait, did he just call me princess?  The word princess is the opposite of my life.  At the orphanage, we were treated like parasites.  No one, especially the older kids, had a bed to sleep in.  Being only two at the time, I could hardly identify friends from fow.  But the girls were mostly afraid of the “caretakers”- the men who cleaned the house and fed us.  No one was called princess or even by our given names-we weren’t worth them.  We were orphans.  Nathanael calling me Princess throws my mind in a loop and now I have to remember what it was he said to me.  He said that I have to call him Teacher, so he’s going to be my tutor?  With what?  On how to be a princess?  He looks like a stubborn man, so I guess I’ll have to be stubborn with him to get what I want.  “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Nathanael,” I say with the voice I used to use when I spoke with my Father.

“Please call me Teacher,” he replies.

“Then please call me Abigail.”

“Miss Grace, you are the last female falcone on the face of this planet.  Therefore, the title is automatically given to you.  Understand this,” he gives me a stern look, his voice firm.  I can see he doesn’t like being talked back at and I can’t help but wonder how far I can push his patience.  I don’t like the title he wants to push on me- I’m not a princess.  I don’t know whether  what he said about me is true or not, I suppose I’ll learn in time, but the word sends a shiver down my spine and I don’t like the feeling at all.  It feels like suffering.  His eyes look into mine and I can see deep admiration, and then it looks as though he’s remembering the past in my face.  The sensation has me baffled.

“My conditions still stand,” I reply.

Nathanael’s mouth contorts into a thin line.

Jack snorts back a laugh.  “I told you,” he jabs at Nathanael.  He looks at me and places his hand on my shoulder, “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”  He breathes another breath of relief.  He was really worried about me, I can see it in his face, but it doesn’t surprise me.  We’ve been together now for a couple days now, each day filled with irreplaceable moments.  They flash in my mind as I remember: he grabbing me around the middle as we make our escape through the ballroom window, he teaching me how to fly, he catching me as I try to land, he calming me down after my nightmare, he carrying me to the inn, he giving me a much needed massage, and he holding my hand as we run from certain death.  I blush from the sweetness of it all.

“Thank you,” I reply, “what happened?: I wonder.  “ I don’t assume it was yesterday?”  Not with how over rested I feel.

“We arrived three days ago,” Abe answers, “you fainted from blood loss and then fell ill with a fever.  It finally broke last night.  I was really worried.”

So changing my clothing didn’t save me from a fever after all, but it does explain the blankets on the floor.  I usually thrash when I’m fighting a fever.

“What happened with the reapers?” I wonder in a hushed tone.  The fear that gripped me still lingers in the tension of my muscles.

“My dear, do you have any idea where you are?” Teacher asks me with raised eyebrows.

“No,” I say with a bitter voice, obviously directed at Abe, “I don’t.”

“Well, this is God’s hidden garden.  It’s a magical place.  Those only equipped with wings can get here,” says Teacher.

Eden, as in the mythical garden God created?  The first paradise on earth?  I walk to the windows to peer out and I see trees of every species, animals walking by without fear of each other or of the homes that seem to be out of place, and the humidity in the air hangs law in a haze.  The colors are assaulting on the senses, but I don’t mind.  It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and my chest is filled with joy upon looking at it.  This is my home, I can feel it in my soul, and I close my eyes to take a deep breath, smelling the vegetation.  My worries seem to dissipate.  There is no Nathanael, the word princess doesn’t exist, and there’s no evil shadow consuming Jack, or Abraham, or whatever his name is.  There is just peace, joy, and love.  A soft hum escapes from my chest, not noticing at all.

I wonder what kind of history this place has.  Remembering it when we arrived, I didn’t see anything extraordinary; however, I didn’t get a very good look.  I can just imagine the beauty of the city- lush with life and sun, moist with falling rain and swirling steam.

We stand awkwardly, but the awe on their faces is unmistakable.  Will everyone look at me this way?  Jack looks better now, the sagging in his shoulders doesn’t look as severe and that makes me feel better.  “Now what?” I ask.

“We start your schooling,” Teacher replies as though it were obvious.

Oh great, more studying.  A continuation of that cage then, I fear.  This type of education is going to be much different, I assume.  I do have a lot of questions and I just hope they get answered.  I can always fly away if I feel too trapped, but I suppose I wouldn’t be able to find my way.  Would Abraham help me escape if it came to it?

“Then, when there is nothing left for me to teach you, you will marry and become queen,” Teacher finishes.

Well that’s a shock to the system.  Marriage left my vocabulary when the ballroom doors locked for the first time.  I look at Abraham quickly through my ratty hair and find him looking away.  I can’t tell what emotion plays on his face, what opinion he holds on this topic.  What’s my opinion?  Do I want marriage?  Do I want to bind myself to a man simply to become a ruler?

And that’s a different topic entirely.  The term feels different than princess does.  Queen would mean more power, more freedom, but at what cost?  What sacrifices would I have to make?  People would come to me with conflict.  They’d line up to make complaints, right?  That’s what royalty means, and the thought makes me uncomfortable.  However, if I’m queen, I’d have power over who I marry and when.  I’d get to decide how people treat each other and I’d be in the know of who comes and who goes.  Perhaps queen would be a good choice.  She can feel the title resonate differently in me, as though it charges me, makes me feel whole.  In that moment, I decide that I’ll embrace the title princess, so long as it results in me becoming queen.

“Marriage,” I repeat.  “When?  And who?”

Nathanael shuffles his weight in his chair, the subject obviously uncomfortable to address.  “First they have to arrive.  They should be on their way soon.  I assume Paul would be too old for you, he could be your grandfather, but he’s honorable and he’d respect you.  Samuel is old enough to be your father, but he’s quiet and intuitive.  He’d be a smart choice to make King.  David is closer to your age, and he’s a skilled healer.  He’s Abraham’s brother.  If you find Abraham attractive, then David would be a strong contender.  Then there’s Joshua, the artist.  He may not have words of wisdom for you, but he would shower you with affection and gifts.”

“What is Abraham’s positive trait,” I wonder, giving the two men a teasing look.

They were expecting the question, but it still raises the tension in the room.  I wish I could break it.  Abe’s eyes fill with sorrow again and a pained expression crosses his face.  His posture weakens, and he clutches the table for support.  It looks like he’s losing a battle.

“He’s... not worthy,” says Nathanael with a worried expression.

I watch every move Abe makes, a shadow passes over his face, and I know he’s lost the battle.  He’s not Jack anymore- I can feel the evil pour out of him.  “You can’t have me, Abigail!” he snaps, trying to keep his voice low.  He clutches at his temples with his palms.

What’s wrong with him?  Why is this happening to him?  “Do something!” I demand of Teacher.  He scuffles over and places his hands on his shoulders to try and console him, but Abe throws him off.  He storms out of the front door and slams it.  Then, I hear the whoosh of wings as he takes off.

Teacher sighs, “Come with me, I’ll show you the ancient city.”

There’s more? My curiosity almost moves me, but all I can think about is Abe’s reaction and the invisible battle it appeared he had lost.

I stay planted in place.  “No one answered my question.  Are you not going to go after him?  He could get himself hurt.”

“Don’t be rude, Miss Grace.  Abraham can take care of himself better than the whole lot of us put together.  He will tell you all the details when he is ready,” he tells her calmly.

I wonder how serious it is.  To not be able to be with anyone, to live the rest of his life in loneliness, seems like torture.  Maybe it’s just a simple fact, like perhaps I’m related to him, but then it wouldn’t explain the fact that he’s in pain around me or that his brother seems to be a suitable match.  And Nathanael said that he’s not “worthy,” which makes me think it’s worse than I’m hoping.

“Come outside with me and I’ll show you the glory of God,” he says.

I follow him and step outside.  It’s like I’ve traveled back in time.  There is a small village that I am standing in, and it would seem normal, if not for the jungle it’s cut into.  I always pictured Eden as a jungle, but this is more than that.  This is a jungle, a forest, a swamp, a prairie, and a desert all in one.  One moment I’m stepping in a bog, the next in a sand dune. I see a cactus mingling with a grouping of pine trees, and then a monkey screeches from a nearby  baobab tree.  There are broad leafed shrubs and also thorny ones that pull at my loose tunic as I walk by them.

As we walk by the fountain, I am able to carefully study it’s fine features.  It’s huge, circular, and filled with crystal clear water.  There are no pennies or coins of any sort staining the perfection of it.  In the center, there is a magnificent bronze statue of a falcone man standing in a protective crouch over a falcone and a human child.  He has his wings spread around them and broadswords around them to stop any reapers who dare come near them.  The falcone child is a girl, her wings just coming in.  She’s grabbing onto her skirt, smiling up at the man.  The human child is knelt in prayer, hoping that God will answer his prayers of protection.  The image is powerful as I wonder who I am in the statute.  I decide it’s not important and continue to follow Teacher.

We leave the area and follow a path into the jungle.  “We’re going to the ancient city,” he says, “this is where you will spend most of your time.  This is where your mother and father lived, and all of your ancestors before them.  It is where twenty years ago we lost hope and abandoned our past.”

His words reach into my soul and prick something important.  A memory, perhaps?

“You grew up a human life,” he continues, fighting our way through the jungle paradise, “away from all truths and with closed barriers.  You must now open your mind and use it for God for the survival of our race.”

I don’t quite understand the extent of what he means, but his words make me nervous.  When he pushes away the last cluster of vines and reveals the city behind, I am struck with bewilderment.  Finally, I understand where I came from, and the memory floods my mind as if I had seen the city before somewhere else- someplace white and bright and full of love and peace.  It is looking at this city that I become a believer. 

I was expecting tears of joy, a breakdown of emotions of some sort, but what I feel is acceptance.  I accept that God is a true being and that I must have been to heaven before or I wouldn’t have memories of it.  What I remember looks just like what is sprawled out before me.

Ruins, or not really ruins, but an abandoned city stands erect in the massive break of the vast jungle.  An ancient city, beautiful, shining with the grace of God.  This place has housed thousands of people many many years ago.  Looking at it, I can feel the massive population that lived for one reason: to kill reapers.  And now there are only seven left- I being the very last female.  I understand how important my life is now.  This place was built in comparison to heaven- a place I’ve seen before.  An image in my mind comes to me as a blur, a white blur.  But in that blur, I can see buildings.  The very same buildings I see in front of me.  These however, are aged and imperfect.  It feels like home, like I finally have a place I belong.  Warm, and welcoming.  A place I’ve been searching for when I didn’t know I was searching at all.

“Well, come along,” he shouts.  He somehow gained a good twenty yards while I’ve been frozen in awe over the magnificent city.  I run after him, watching my feet so I don’t trip over roots and vines.  He leads me up to it, the buildings towering over my head.  We walk to the center of the city, our footsteps echoing off the walls, giving the place a lonely feeling.  We climb stairs that go over an arched bridge that leads to the front door of a massive building.  Standing before it, Teacher pulls out a large rusty skeleton key from his pocket.  “This is your classroom, our city hall, and our meeting place.  God’s spirit resides here, and he will show you either what you desire, or what He wants you to see,” he explains as he unlocks it and opens the door, which seems to be used often since there are no creaking sounds.

There is no floor, ceiling, or walls.  There is only a black void of space.  I keep my feet planted on the stable bridge.  “Tell it what to look like,” he tells me.

“Me?  I don’t know how,” I laugh off.

He grabs my hand and turns it palm up.  He fingers my wrist.  “Abigail, you are special.  You are a pure blood angel- no darkness taints your blood- and so you have just as much power as Satan has, not to mention a power that no other falcone has.  All you have to do is speak the words and the room will hear you.”

It reminds me how God created everything.  With just a simple command he made it so.  Do I really have that much power?  I take a deep breath and paint the picture.  “A sunset of golds, yellows, reds, and oranges filters through the tree leaves; there’s a lullaby sung by a sweet female voice floating on the light breeze; a mother consoles her small crying daughter.  She leaves her there by that fallen log, asleep with the streaks of tears still drying on her cheeks.  The mother runs away in fear, running to her death.”  I finish, seeing my memory being splashed into reality in the black void, just as I pictured it.  I step into it and cry for the baby girl, lost and forgotten.  Me.  When I was abandoned by my own mother- now understanding why she had to leave me.

Teacher places his hand on my shoulder.  “That is enough for today, young princess.”