Guardian: The Guardian Part 13

"How do you feel?" He asks this quietly and for a second I doubt if he has spoken at all. However a quick glance at his eyes shows he is looking at me- searching my face, so I deduct that he must have spoken up.

"Pitch perfect," I mutter sarcastically, my sore throat croaking in protest.

"Don't ever do that again," he states the clear command.

I feel his eyes boring my head, but I don't bother to look up. The last thing I want is to be scolded by this unfeeling monster. These creatures are nothing like the loving angels they teach in Sunday school or those one reads about in fairy tales and folklores. I have learnt that they are pragmatic creatures. Nothing they do or say results from emotion - at least not towards humans.

"Don't ever act fatally when Azrael is not around to stop you soul from pa.s.sing on to the next world," he concludes. I remain immobilized, my throat hurts from my attempt to respond earlier, and my muscles are clamped tight after suffering continuous sporadic spasms just a short while back. I therefore do not bother to nod.

"Are you cold?" He asks, when he notices the shiver that rocks me, probably a residual spasm from the shock my body had put itself through. I do not answer, but he comes over, lifts me into his arms, glides with me towards the fireplace and deposits me onto a wooden rocking chair close to the fire.

He then floats back to his armchair by the other end of the fireplace. I am not cold, but I appreciate the seat by the fire, whose lively crackling ignites my senses back to life.

I don't know how long we stay like this, me on the rocking chair before the fire, stiff and still, and him on the other chair, staring at me. His stare does nothing to help ease my nerves, on the contrary, I'm highly strung at the moment.

When are Ariel and Uriel getting back? My thoughts are interrupted by a heavy blush as I hear unmistakable sounds coming from the door leading to the bathroom. A moan, something crashes, someone growls, a sharp cry..

Wow, those two are definitely having a good time in there! My whole stained face burns, and I daren't look up from the fire I am staring at to my left.

Is Raphael looking at me?

Silly girl, why would he be looking at me?

Should I steal a glance and confirm?

Why would you do that? Keep your head down! My head keeps up its conflict, and I don't know how much longer I can restrain from looking up at the blue-eyed devil sitting a few feet from me, with his searing body heat radiating through the air between us, floating over to me, splaying gently on my skin- taunting me. I just want... I just need...

I feel the approach of another angel, even before I hear him, and I immediately snap out of my stupid head.

"It's Azrael," Raphael states.

"Uh!" He exclaims before proceeding closer into the room. "There is so much s.e.xual tension in here, dare I come in?" I blush even more, willing myself to disappear into the stone floor.

I however breathe in a sigh of relief when he says, "Somebody needs to tell U and A to keep it down!" Looks like Ariel and Uriel's emotions have masked mine.

I now feel confident enough to raise my face from the fire and look up, but the golden haired stud flies into view so fast that I start back. He stops himself between the fire and me.

"What the..!" He exclaims, curbing my chin and lifting it up to the light. I must look quite terrible, for the face of the man I dislike most in this world etches into worry and anger as he looks up at his fellow brother.

"What happened?" Azrael growls dangerously.

"She almost died!" Raphael states as a matter of fact, his voice devoid of all emotion.

"What happened?" Azrael asks again, rubbing my cheekbone with his thumb in gentle strokes, and I surprise myself when I don't jerk away from his touch. I guess I really did forgive him. Plus I must be longing for some comfort after my trauma; a hug, a kind word, any comfort I can get. Such is the human nature anyway, we always need someone to empathize with us, even if it is our sworn enemy.

"I had to heal Ariel, fast, he was in too much pain. The son of man absorbed all the Essence that was being emitted, to protect us from detection."

I am so angry when he purposely negates to call me by my name, making it sound as though I am just an inanimate or an unimportant piece of it all. Why won't he acknowledge me and treat me with a little more respect? I of course maintain my silence.

"It was a lot of Essence," Raphael finishes with a low voice, the little emotion the voice betrays warms my heart.

"That much?" Azrael asks, watching my face with so much concern, and respect, that I wonder how I could ever have hated him.

"She was dying, but she still wouldn't let go."

"Is that why your hand is imprinted on her cheek?" Azrael growls at Raphael, tracing the swollen half of my still stinging face.

"I had to snap her out of it." Azrael doesn't respond. "I couldn't heal her, for she was hurting herself of her own free will."

"That is our Caroline, alright! Always willing to die," Azrael says, still staring into my face, referring to the night I had run out to kill him with a kitchen knife, yet I had known that he could have easily ended my life with a single swipe.

"But next time, only tempt death when I am with you, so that I can give you your life back," he says gently, looking deep into my eyes. "You are very special to us," he finishes off.

Don't I know it! I am your d.a.m.n keys! Special indeed.

Azrael then leaves me and goes over to his brother, where they begin talking together in their strange language. I have no way of understanding them, and honestly, no interest. I shut my eyes to rest my still throbbing head.

I must have dozed off, but my eyes suddenly fly open, only to relax at the sight of Mulan, I mean Uriel, staring down at me.

"Let's get you cleaned up, dear," she says, lifting me up into her arms and floating with me towards the door leading to the brightly lit bathroom. She closes the door behind me before gently placing me to stand on the hard stone floor. She begins helping me get out of my soiled parka, but I brush her hands away with my shaking fingers when she makes to help me unzip my pair of soiled jeans.

"Now, don't look so disappointed," she says smiling. "I could always call in Raphael for you, or is it Ariel again?" She asks and giggles sweetly at the embarra.s.sment that registers in my eyes and the unmistakable blush that spreads into my face and chest.

"Yeah, we can all sense your emotions. They are raging, more so because you are a teenager. Don't worry about it," she says, as I pull off my t-shirt and pull down my pants.

I keep my face hidden from her, hiding my blush at her words as I step into the filled bath she must have drawn for me. She begins to gently lather a wash cloth.

"I..." I try to talk but give up.

"Shh..." She says to me, scrubbing my face as grime and dirt blend into the water. The sight of it disgusts me- what a sight I must have been.

"Don't try to talk," she continues. "Just relax and breathe. Let your body recover from the shock, and then Raphael can try heal whatever will still be broken inside, ok?" I look at her with eyes from which I hope she interprets as consent and gratefulness.

"You are such a brave girl, so committed, so loyal and selfless. The very qualities humanity was modelled upon. It is a shame how much those qualities have corroded away over the years. So few are left with them, so very few," she says, probably rambling on so as to keep me relaxed and restful.

It is working.

"Love was always meant to be the greatest law, you know? We did not know it in the beginning, but we learnt from our mistakes. There could have been written tens of thousands of rules, but then they would just have been rules, broken or obeyed. But with love as the only rule, things would be different. With love as the only guideline, it becomes simpler to choose; love or hate, light or dark. No more confusion, and misinterpretation of the rules. The sons of man could finally choose without needing guidance. Their choice then became very simple - to love or to hate." She continues.

"It should be about love, for us too. Even we dominant beings should only have love as a guide, as we've given you sons of man. But..." She shrugs here, scrubbing my arms gently. "Politics will always be in the way. Only those who've truly loved, can see the power of it, in it..." On and on she went, about love versus all, as she scrubbed me clean, and I stopped listening at some point, tired of having to constantly think.

My bath finally ends, and she lifts me gently out of the bath, with the large towel suspended between her arms, and cradles me in her arms, tucking the large towel snugly around me.

She sets me to stand on a warm dry floor towel, and helps me with drying my hair. I move my fingers tentatively to check if they work, before moving my hands to help rub myself. My movements are however stiff and jerky, and I stop, giving up. She smiles gently, wrapping a large grey bathrobe around me, tying the sash before me securely. She places some fluffy indoor slippers before my feet, and I slowly move my legs, stepping into them.

She then lifts me gently to her, opens the door, and we fly out onto the large living room, which is now filled with all the seven angels of the Brotherhood. They are all sitting around a dining table, placed on the far side near the kitchen island, sipping something from mugs.

Tea? I think to myself, chuckling inside, and coffee, and even some hot chocolate! Who knew just how human angels could be! Is this what they do, up there in heaven, after a long day of whatever it is they do? Sit around and unwind over a cup of tea? The notion is hilarious.

They follow me with their eyes, their faces bent over their beverages, talking among themselves. I do not bother to listen - it takes too much concentration, and all I want is to rest my head. Uriel drags a chair and lowers me gently onto it, as though I am a delicate piece of china. I know the guilt of my near death is killing her, for she thinks it is her fault. Well it is partly her fault, it is all our faults. They should reveal more to me, and I should care more for my well-being. I am truly my parents' daughter, through and through.

Raphael pours some hot water into two cups, places a spiced Indian chai tea bag into one cup and four sugars, before pushing it my way. My eyes open wide questioningly. How did he know what kind of tea I like, and how I drink it? I guess it is information gathered during all those hours spent guarding me.

Uriel takes the second cup of water and blends some tea for herself as they all fall into serious conversation. They all seem to forget about my presence. I have no hope of understanding them now, since none of them is touching me.

I lift my shaking hand carefully, and slowly pull the cup closer to me. I then spend the next few minutes blowing into the cup, longing to drink the delicious liquid, but too fixated on whether my fingers could manage to lift the cup without spilling.

I note Raphael, from across the table, staring unabashedly at me with his piercing blue eyes, watching my every movement.

What now? I think exasperated. Why does he have to look at me like that? Like I am the most important thing in his life! Well I probably am, considering I am his key back home after his mission is over. I just hate it when he looks at me like that, because it makes my stupid insides turn and my blood rush. My skin itches to be touched by him. Just a touch. Stupid, stupid body!

I clench and unclench my fingers that now lie over my lap under the table. I then lift them up slowly and hold the cup, tentatively bringing it to my lips. The sweetly spicy liquid sliding down my throat is a welcomed sensation.

When I finally finish my tea, I am feeling much better. Feeling has returned to my legs, and the annoying pins and needles are nibbling at me. My throbbing headache is back with a bang, and my chest pains persist; discomforts that had been dulled until a few moments ago.

Raphael says something to the others, still staring down at me, and they all turn to look at me, discussing something about me in their language.

I hate it when they do that! It makes me feel isolated, dehumanized. I am not a science project. The least they could do was look somewhere else as they discuss me, so that I wouldn't know that it is me they are talking about. Uriel says something in response to a long sentence Raphael has said, and then she turns to speak to me.

"Raphael, will heal you now, okay?" She asks, as though I have any choice in the matter.

I try to nod but grimace instead. She, however, takes it as a yes, and picks me up gently, depositing me onto the large couch I had earlier been placed on by Raphael when we first arrived into this cave apartment. She sets me to lie down, placing my head against one of the armrest, and lifting my legs onto the couch to lie flat.

Raphael's face then hovers over mine almost soon after, looking straight at me, before he gets down onto one knee, and then places his warm hands on my mid-section.

A burning sensation spreads from his fingers to the point of contact with my skin, before spreading out to the rest of my body in ripples. His blue eyes thaw slightly, as he watches my face keenly.

"This time, don't absorb the Essence," he says with a smile. I smile back, not because of his joke, but just because he is smiling. He is smiling at me!

He keeps holding my eye contact, as the rippling warmth ma.s.sages my aching limbs and heals my internal injuries. I begin to feel like myself again. It no longer hurts to breathe, or to twitch my toes, or to just be.

I suffer the withdrawal of his touch when he lifts his hands away, my midsection arching upwards to stay in contact with his hands before I can stop myself.

The annoyingly perfect laugh from Camael lets me know that my motion didn't go unnoticed, which causes me to flush again.

"Try sit up," Raphael says impa.s.sively, not reacting to Camael's taunt, for which I am grateful. I do as he says.

"Now try stand up." As I do what he says, Raphael rises with me too. I don't wait for him to prompt me again, but instead begin pacing about the room, catching the warm smiles from most of them, except Camael and Raphael of course. They rarely ever react to anything.

Right here, right now, one would almost think that these angels care about my well-being, and not just because I am their key home.

"Come on over here, fellow survivor, and let us toast to ourselves," Ariel calls cheerfully, and I smile back at him. I walk over to the table, as he refills my tea for me. I sit beside Uriel again, and she quickly squeezes me against herself, a sign of fondness. I squeeze back weakly.

"You guys have to open up more," I say after taking a sip. "You have to tell me more. If I knew beforehand what would happen to me if I absorbed too much of the Essence, I would have stopped myself. You can't keep leaving me in the dark, because my life is at play here, and we all know you need me alive."

"She is right," Ca.s.siel or Ambriel says, and his ' twin' nods in agreement.

"What do you want to know?" Golden boy Azrael asks.

"Why didn't Uriel absorb some of the Essence too, as Ariel was being healed? She could have helped me."

"We can't absorb the Essence. We can just expel it, and detect it. That is how we can track each other. Only a portal can absorb Essence." Oh yeah, and I am the portal! Great!

"Why couldn't Uriel heal Ariel herself?"

"Raphael is the only healer among the angels," Camael answers me listlessly.

"Did I grant him the power?" She scoffs in response. I guess not.

"No," Uriel says, sending Camael a scorn. "It is who he is. Archangel Raphael, the warrior and healer." She quotes as a matter-of-fact.

"Oh, what if Raphael hadn't healed Ariel, what would have happened?"

"Ariel would have healed slowly for weeks," Uriel says quietly, and I catch the sad tone in her voice. She loves him, deeply. I look at my two favorite angels, and smile quietly. They are perfect for each other. Uriel catches my smile and grins back at me sheepishly, looking so young at the moment. I could swear she looks no more than a couple years older than I am.

"The angel," I start, while looking into the icy blue eyes across from me. "The angel with the head." I watch raw anger tear across his face. "Will he die?"

"Angels don't die," Raphael grinds out slowly. "But I'll lock Abaddon up again in Tartaros, soon, where he belongs. Until judgment day."

"But..." I remember the lolling head, held on by only an inch of his neck. "His head..."

"Will heal again, slowly." Raphael answers impatiently. "It will probably be a couple of weeks before he can crawl out of his hiding hole."

"But what if his head had completely been cut off?"

"The head would rot away, and over time his body would grow another," one of the 'twins' comes to his rescue. "Angels will live forever, until judgment day," he states, and I nod my head to his answer. Yeah, I got that!

"Who is that in the vault?" I direct this at Uriel.

"That is Daniel," she states, but doesn't say anymore.

"Is he..."

"A fallen angel? Yes." she states before taking a sip of her brew.

"What would happen, if a fallen angel captured me and discovered I am the portal?" This I ask slowly, fearing the answer I am to get.

"They would find a way to make it to paradise, and attempt to change the Principles of Divinity." Ariel says. I shake my head in confusion. Not this again!

"What are these Principles of Divinity?"

"The concept of G.o.dliness, G.o.d."

"What do you mean? G.o.d is a concept?" I ask laughing. They all just look back at me, but none attempts to correct me.

"I knew it!" I erupt into laughter. "I knew it! Oh grandpa must have been so disappointed to die and realize, there is no G.o.d!" I keep laughing at the spectacle of it all, and they all just stare back at me.

"So who do you work for? Aren't you supposed to be soldiers of G.o.d or something?"