Chapter 20
Gabriel fluttered down into the back yard of the house of their current hosts, the extended family of the young man whom the Prophet had chosen as her consort. He had no more tears left to cry, only sorrow. Dawn stabbed through the sky, the knife-like rays vulgar in their cheerfulness as they stabbed though his heart like heavenly swords.
No matter what he found behind the door, he resolved, he would face it with obedience and stoic resolve. The young Mormon was a good man and a devout follower of the Father, if very young. The Prophet deserved to be loved. If Gabriel had to choose a worthy consort, the young Mormon was probably as close as he would ever find on Earth to what she deserved. His job was to act as her protector. The Father had answered his pleas by painting his 'no' across the very place Gabriel found his thoughts travelling to now, a reminder that the longing in his heart was forbidden.
He could still love her, secretly, in his heart, without succumbing to his baser impulses. A chaste love. The lie the Catholic church had tried to perpetuate about the Savior, belittling the Saviors mortal wife and removing all reference of her from the sacred texts except a passing insinuation that the Saviors consort had been little more than a prostitute. She was not.
Gabriel would, in truth, live the lie even the Savior had been unable to endure. Because no matter how small the breadcrumbs of her presence, it was better than the alternative, to be parted from her. Gabriel would endure. He opened the door and was surprised to find, instead of a house full of sleeping people sluggishly awakening to greet the dawn, chaos and panic.
"Gabriel!" the Reverend cried out. "Where have you been?"
Beside him, both the host and hostess of the house were standing, frantically wringing their hands. There was no sign of the young Mormon male.
"I had … business to attend to," Gabriel said, schooling a stoic expression upon his face and hoping the Reverend, who had become his friend, was still too groggy to notice his eyes were swollen and red from crying.
"She was screaming," Obediah, their host, said.
"We can't wake her up!" the Reverend exclaimed, grabbing him and dragging him down the hall. "She needs you!"
"What of her young … friend?" Gabriel asked, just barely managing to divert the jealous sneer from his voice, the angry insinuation that he knew the truth. "Didn't he attend to her?"
"Josiah?" Obediah said. "Josiah went to the temple last night to prepare for his ordination. He must spend the days before his ordination performing rituals of purification and prayers. He left right after you did."
Were they lying, trying to spare his feelings? Did they know? The Reverend knew. The Reverend threw open the door to her room and stepped back. Inside, the Prophet lay on the floor where she had flung herself off the bed, tangled in the covers, writhing as though in pain, sobbing as she called his name while one of the visions which cursed her dreams each night projected torment after torment into her mind.
"She needs you," the Reverend said, giving him a look that was an accusation.
"Little Prophet?" Gabriel asked. He sniffed the air, angel-scent being much more sensitive than that possessed by humans, and could smell no trace of human semen, or even the scent of the young Mormon male in this room. Whatever had happened between them, it had not happened here. But he could smell blood. Her blood. She had insinuated she was impure. Had it been her first time? He was confused.
"Gabriel," the Prophet moaned, clutching at her abdomen as though she were in pain. "Why? Why? Why?" She sobbed uncontrollably and then whispered, "damn you."
Rage flooded through his veins. Had the young Mormon violated her? He didn't seem the type. Nor would the other members of the household have allowed it after they had heard her scream. What had happened here?
"Gabriel," the Prophet moaned, a deep keening moan that resonated with the sorrow contained within his own heart like a tuning fork. Whatever Earthly pleasures her mortal shell required, he realized, she still needed something only he could give her. She needed him.
"I'll take care of her," Gabriel told the Reverend. "Shut the door behind you, please."
The Reverend knew their secret, that each night he walked the fine line between duty and sin by stretching out alongside of her and encircling her in his arms until the visions passed. The Reverend would divert the attention of their hosts.
"I am here, little Prophet," Gabriel said, lowering himself to the hard floor and completing their nightly ritual. "Whoever dare molesteth the Prophet of the Lord shall incur the wrath of the Left Hand of God."
"Gabriel," she moaned. As he gathered her into his arms and encircled her in his wings, it felt … right. Instantly, her writhing stopped and she fell into a fitful sleep. He was exhausted from his night spent upon the pinnacle of the Mormon temple. He slept too.
It was many hours later when she finally stirred, waking him from the fitful sleep he endured, nightmares of the Prophet being condemned to Sheol because he was guilty of committing the unforgiveable sin of loving someone more than he loved the heavenly Father.
"Gabriel," she murmured, her voice small and exhausted. Drained. She sounded … defeated.
"I am here," Gabriel said gently. "I am here to protect you."
The Prophet gradually opened her eyes, red-rimmed and puffy from crying. She never had any memories of her nightmares, but she bore the physical marks of her dreams each morning.
"My stomach hurts," she said weakly, and then noticed where she was. "What happened? Why am I on the floor?"
"You had another vision," Gabriel said, guilt stabbing through his heart. "I was … busy. I didn't get here until you had already fallen off the bed. I am sorry."
The Prophet sighed, a bone-weary sigh that sounded as though she were carrying the weight of the world upon her slender shoulders. "My stomach hurts," she said. "I must have banged it in the fall."
"Shhh…" Gabriel said. "Let me see if you are bruised."
She lay there, too exhausted to move, and allowed him to gently peel up her shirt to expose several inches of her midriff. He gasped.
Claw marks tore through her tender flesh! As though some great beast had clawed at her. His heart beginning to race, he pulled up her shirt further, almost violating her modesty by exposing her breasts in his haste, and saw they crisscrossed her entire stomach. He shoved up the long sleeves of her shirt and discovered similar claw marks as well as the tooth marks of a predator on her arms, and even more on her legs, and her neck. Rolling her over, she even had the claw marks on her back.
"What did you dream of?" Gabriel almost shouted, rage flooding his veins. "What did this to you?"
"I don't remember," Audrey whispered, cringing back from his anger. "I can never remember the dreams."
"What dreams?" he shouted, all semblance of self-control absent from his face as he frantically touched the claw marks and tried to figure out just what the hell could have done this to her. "What do you dream of each night?"
"I can't remember," the Prophet cried, curling up into a fetal position and staring at him with owlish eyes. "Gabriel … you're scaring me."
A loud knock was on the door. "Audrey? Is everything okay in there? Gabriel?" The Reverend.
Gabriel gasped for breath, fighting to regain his self-control. He had seen many wounds from battle, but none had ever caused him to feel this combination of helplessness, remorse, and rage.
"I'm okay," the Prophet called weakly.
Gabriel shuddered at what he had done. Last night, he had flown off and left the Prophet unprotected.
"I'm so sorry," Gabriel whispered, pulling her back into his arms. "I failed you."
"You didn't do this to me, Gabriel," the Prophet said weakly. "It was the monsters in the nightmare. I wish I could remember."
"Sleep, little Prophet," Gabriel said, picking her up and putting her back on the bed and gently tucking the covers around her. "I will stand sentry. It won't happen again."
"I'm afraid," Audrey whispered. "I'm afraid to go to sleep."
"It won't happen again," Gabriel said, fire lighting up his eyes as he took her hand. "I swear on my own immortal soul, I will not let anything happen to you ever again. Ever." He took her hand in his and settled into a sitting position on the bed next to her. He would spend his vigil there.
The Prophet gave him a weak smile. After only moments, her eyes slowly slid shut once more and she drifted back to sleep.
Gabriel refused to move the rest of the day, sending his regrets to the temple and missing his appointment with the Mormon elders. From now on, nothing would ever cause him to leave the Prophet's side, even if it meant he had to stand outside her door as she made love to whatever consort she eventually chose and protect her through his own tears.
It wasn't until sometime later that it dawned on him that, in his anguish over seeing her kiss the young Mormon male, perhaps he had misconstrued what he had seen?
It was with much stammering and embarrassment some time later that he asked the Reverend if anything had happened and, after much beating around the bush, finally gave the Reverend enough of a hint about what the hell he was so upset about that the Reverend was finally able to put the matter to rest.
"Josiah asked Audrey to marry him," the Reverend said, somewhat bemused.
"And?" Gabriel asked, trying to don a poker face and not entirely succeeding as the position of his wings betrayed his anxiety.
"She let him down gently," the Reverend said, giving him a knowing smile. "The young man didn't seem too terribly crushed. Something about she's been marked by god for a special purpose."
"You think she showed him the … instructions?" Gabriel asked, his wings definitely betraying his relief. His skin flushed guilty and hot at the memory of the Prophet stretching back in the light and disrobing just far enough for the young Mormon to read the prohibition in the language Gabriel had personally taught the young man to read giving the Prophet a viable excuse to tell the man 'no' without having to hurt his feelings, and then hastily pulling back up her pants before giving the young man a kiss goodbye.
"I don't know," the Reverend said, his face cracking into a shit-eating grin. "You were the one who saw it. You tell me."
Was he really that transparent?