The Angel

  Wicked

  • Book Four •

  The Angel

  Blaire Hammond

  The Angel

  By Blaire Hammond

  Text Copyright © 2019 Blaire Hammond

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in fan works, critical articles and reviews. For more information please contact the author.

  Prologue

  October 19th 2013

  Erebus grinned into the darkness as he strode promptly to the ledge. Night had become a solemn friend, for he felt in power when consumed by the black. He peered up towards the dirt and rock ceiling of his underground hideout – one of many. He couldn’t see it, of course, but it calmed him simply knowing the dense earth was above him, hiding him from the world beyond.

  Through the gloom, a rumble thundered from below his feet, vibrating within the stone and forcing his legs to grow unsteady. Erebus’s eyes flickered downwards. He stood at the edge of a sharp drop; an enormous, jagged, shadowed abyss where only those from hell could rise. The sound came again, expanding into a boom, and the ground beneath him shifted again, but harder than before.

  Cane in hand, Erebus held his position. He would not cower, for they answered to him. All of Elixir would soon answer to him.

  Deep in the depths of the wide expanse before him, Erebus caught sight of a glowing red shape slowly rising up to greet him. Perhaps greet was too strong a word, for those of the underworld never stooped so low as to trade niceties.

  There was no accompanying sound, no words or growls or cries. There was only the dim light ascending from the planets core.

  Erebus took but a small step backwards, allowing the creature space for its arrival. Because that was, of course, the only reason he dared move away. Fear was never a factor. Not for him.

  With all that had happened - losing the Enchanted he’d held hostage in Alast. Forcing the Wicked to take their place building up his base, causing unrest and frustration within his followers. The struggle to locate Laura and Stella’s refusal to admit any knowledge of her whereabouts. And most of all, the dwindling battle for the land of Lastrala… well the forthcoming meeting was his last hope at a positive outcome for his future plans for Elixir.

  As Erebus watched the red shape continue to approach he snapped his thoughts back to the task at hand. He could not dwell on his failures. The war was not yet lost, nor did he intend it to be at all. With the likely help of his ally, he would win without a doubt.

  The quaking underfoot had yet to relent, turning his legs to jelly as he fought to keep his place. Around him, a low, deep hum; the early sounds an animal might make when eyeing off an enemy, begun. Erebus felt his heart drumming in his chest as at last a figure started to appear before him.

  A man. Dark, burnt skin hung from his body in thick, unpleasant waves. His form was almost transparent. It was only the dim flicker of red that glowed about him that allowed Erebus to see his edges and the details of his body. His eyes were a piercing orange as they followed Erebus on his rise upwards. His mouth was curved down in an angry scowl. His body cut off at the waist where his black and deep red, fiery robes hung loose. Fire did indeed dance about where his legs should have been and it was as if the flame alone was what propelled him from the depths of hell.

  Erebus bowed his head as the Devil came to a halt before him, his golden staph in hand, a gleaming crown atop his bald head.

  ‘It is an honour,’ Erebus said with an exaggerated flourish of his hand, his head still downcast.

  There was no reply, and Erebus lifted his eyes to meet those of the Devil. Shavera, Ruler of The Devils of Hell. There was no one more powerful, besides, perhaps, Marries, Emperor of the Gods, though Erebus presumed they were more so on an even playing field.

  ‘I thank you for agreeing to see me,’ Erebus continued, questioning for the first time whether he was permitted to speak.

  But then again he was reminded of the fact that without him, the Devils would not have the chance to rule the Heavens, and he pressed onwards.

  ‘I have respectfully called you to rise for I believe it is time for your assistance in this battle. The Enchanted, while surprised by my sudden return, remain strong, and we have come to find ourselves evenly matched. Should you still wish to claim the Heavens, I will need your future assistance in order to take Elixir from the Enchanted.’

  The Devil’s eyes dulled to a swirling black, and Erebus again found himself wondering if perhaps he’d been too forward. But then, the Devil crossed his arms and lifted his chin, his staph left to float in the air beside him.

  ‘How do you plan on assisting us in taking the Heavens?’ The Ruler of the Devils asked, his voice scratchy and deep from years of living in the land of fire.

  Erebus felt his stomach twist at the reminder of his biggest failure. For him to help the Devils destroy the Gods, he needed Laura. Laura had access to the Gods – to the Heavens. He needed her power so he could call on them, and thus allow the Devils to enter into battle with them.

  ‘It is… going as planned. I have found the weapon I require, and I have the means in taking the weapon for myself,’ Erebus replied cautiously.

  The Devil growled. ‘Then why have you not already opened the pathway to the Heavens for us?’

  Erebus found himself fidgeting, the fingers on his left hand having grown numb from relentlessly gripping his cane.

  ‘Ah… there have been a few small complications. Nothing major. I have my followers ironing them out as we speak,’ he responded cordially.

  The Devil unfolded his arms and took back his staph. ‘We agreed to help you, and we will. I will ready my army for battle.’

  ‘And how long can I expect to wait before you’re ready?’ Erebus asked quickly before the Devil could leave.

  Shavera’s eyes narrowed and he straighten his body, his form growing larger and much more intimidating, even to Erebus.

  ‘When we are ready. I suspect before the second month is out. We have many who will need re-training before I agree to allow them entry onto the battlefield.’

  ‘Ah.’

  The blackness returned to the Devil’s eyes and they bored into Erebus’s. ‘Is that going to be a problem?’

  Erebus was quick to shake his head. ‘No, of course not. Not at all. That should give me some time to fix up these little problems with the weapon, ready for your arrival.’

  ‘Very well. I will call to you when we are ready for our summoning.’

  Erebus bowed his head again, ensuring to keep his face blank and his eyes downcast. There was no sound or movement to indicate when the Ruler of Hell had left. Just the sudden darkness that engulfed Erebus as he lifted his gaze to the vast nothingness before him.

  Part One:

  The Casters

  With power, comes great responsibility.

  Not all who own it can wield it,

  though those who do may try.

  Chapter One

  The Real Story

  M egan’s face blurred in Laura’s vision as her thoughts were bombarded by an entourage of questions. She was a Caster. Part Human, part Warlock, part Angel. After so much time, she knew. She could at last put a name to her ability, a face to her power, a word to her kind. And while the answers brought her a sense of comfort and relief, she still couldn’t eliminate the many queries forming in her mind. To what extent could she use her powers? How did she really control them? How much of the Angel’s power was inside of her?

  Megan took
a step towards her, and Laura felt Gemma tense to her right. She snapped back to attention, taking in the small cottages around them, the farmyard animals locked in pens, the kids and adults watching from their doorways, the dense forest surrounding them.

  She still couldn’t quite believe that, hidden away, on the Xatha Islands, there was a whole village of Enchanted exactly like her. Not only that, but other creatures lived on the islands too. Creatures unlike anything she, or Gemma, had ever seen before. And it appeared that the village of Casters and the Creatures worked together rather well – or at least lived in harmony with one another. And then it hit her. People like her. Her own kind. Others with the same abilities as herself. Casters.

  ‘How?’ She whispered, hazel and gold flecked eyes meeting Megan’s large olive ones.

  ‘Please, won’t both of you come inside out of the heat? You must be tired from your travels,’ Megan insisted, gesturing with her hand towards the cottage she’d exited.

  When she saw neither Gemma nor Laura make a move to follow, she smiled. ‘I promise I’ll tell you everything. But it’s a long story. One that must be relayed correctly.’

  Laura gave Gemma a questioning glance, and Gemma responded with a despondent shrug. They were in too deep. If the village was a threat to them, there was no way of escaping. But a large part of Laura didn’t believe they were in any danger to begin with. If anything, she trusted she was in the safest place she could ever be, given the war raging back home.

  Gemma removed her hand from the hilt of her sword and started after Megan. Megan gave the girl an appreciative nod and turned to lead them into her cottage. Just as Laura stepped inside, she noticed the people, Enchanted; Casters, heading back inside or returning to their work.

  No. She didn’t feel she was under threat at all. But she did feel rather confused. That was why she’d come to Mist Roe, she supposed. To find out what she was. To discover the answers she’d so long sought after. To at last know the truth. She moved further into the cottage, allowing Megan to shut the door soundlessly behind her.

  Laura peered about at the little stone built room. A stove sat by the fire, – which was, miraculously, out. It was already quite hot outside in the sun - a large pot of what smelled to be stew simmering atop it. The walls were covered in all kinds of weapons, photos and momentous. It was a snug cottage, the kitchen and dining room off to the right, small and robust. The lounge room was to the left of the fire, cozy and full of furniture. Two doors could be seen hidden in the left corner side by side, one surely Megan’s room and the other likely the bathroom.

  There was a slurp and Laura jumped, turning to see Gemma eating from a bowl. It was stew, as she’d suspected, and Megan held a wooden bowl out to her too. Laura took it, relaying a small word of thanks and sat down beside Gemma at the little wooden table. Taking up her spoon, and ignoring the flicker of concern in her stomach that the food could be poisoned, she dug in. If Gemma was eating it, surely it was okay.

  Laura was hungrier than she thought, and after finishing her second helping she felt her eyelids begin to droop with tiredness. She’d been on the move for months on end, barely stopping for a simple meal or night of rest. Suddenly the prospect of a good sleep didn’t sound so bad. But she bit back her desires, replacing it with her one want that was more prominent than any other. The truth.

  ‘I suppose I best begin,’ Megan said, taking a seat in a large, burnt orange, comfy looking armchair.

  Gemma and Laura rose from the table and moved to the sandy brown couch across from Megan, settling down to the sound of the crackling of the stove and the warmth of the sun beating down on the home.

  Laura removed her bag and sword (her other weapons remained strapped to her body beneath her clothing), setting them beside her, and took off her jacket, sinking back into the couch next to Gemma. She was ready for the story… she hoped.

  Megan’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled at the two girls. Laura liked the way her olive eyes lit up with her grin, the golden specks, alike those that resided in her own eyes, sparkling.

  ‘The God’s informed me you would come,’ Megan began, and already Laura’s heart was hammering in her chest. ‘They said someone would arrive in Mist Roe seeking my help. I suppose I suspected it had something to do with the war. And I’m sure it still does. But I see now you’re after much more than our assistance in battle.’

  Laura didn’t dare interrupt Megan, though she wanted her to hurry and explain everything. She was impatient and worried and after such a long time waiting she simply wanted to know the whole story.

  ‘Long ago, a Warlock named Anetta fell in love with a Human named Mathew.’

  Laura straightened, as did Gemma. She wondered if her friend’s heart was thundering as much as her own was.

  ‘Ah. I gather you’ve heard this tale before so I’ll save you from sitting through it again. But, you see, the old version you’ve come to understand is not entirely accurate. We had it altered so no one could find us and thus use us for our power. The truth is, Anetta and Mathew had not a son, but a daughter. Venda. Why is this important? Because only the female can carry on the Caster bloodline.’

  Laura glanced at Gemma, whose brows were raised, the white scar running down her cheek to the corner of her lips standing out against her dark skin. She had wondered about having children… about if it was even possible. She wanted to ask more questions, but she bit her tongue so she could hear the remainder of the story.

  ‘It wasn’t long before word reached the Enchanted that a Warlock had allegedly been able to conceive a child with a Human. Many came searching, and Anetta knew she couldn’t let them find her or her daughter. So she fled, taking Mathew and Venda with her. The three of them, with nowhere to go, sailed the seas until they reached a small cluster of Islands.’

  ‘Mist Roe…’ Gemma whispered.

  Megan nodded. ‘Back then, the myths of the Monsters of Mist Roe were widely known, and so very few, if any at all, dared to venture close to the islands for fear of coming face to face with the stories of their nightmares. Anetta, however, did not fear the monsters. Not when there were worse people chasing her to begin with. So she convinced her husband and daughter to stay calm, and together, they waded to shore, for their ship was too large to reach the beach. They climbed the sand banks of this very Island we’ve come to live on now, and came face to face with the Monsters.

  Anetta showed them kindness and compassion. In turn, they found a new home. They created the mist to conceal the islands, keeping all those inside safe, and thus enforcing the name Mist Roe. Before long, Venda grew older, and convinced her mother that there would surely be others in the world like her. So, with her daughters help, Anetta began her search. It didn’t take long for the Casters to be found. We’re easy to find if you know what you’re looking for.

  Having already built a village, Mathew remained behind, continuing to construct homes for those Anetta and Venda rescued to live in. They took in all Caster, Warlock and Human families with Caster children, allowing them to live without fear, without concern for their safety or worry that the Enchanted would find them.

  Anetta was elected chief of the tribe and assisted Venda in teaching the Casters how to harness their powers as Venda had been forced to learn how to do. Years passed, and Anetta, Mathew and Venda became well loved by all, including the Gods watching down over them. It wasn’t long before they made contact through Venda’s power, promising to create a strong bond with every chief of the tribe, allowing all those who came next to hear and know the love and power of those that had come before.

  Anetta was incredibly touched by the gesture; realising that the God’s gift meant that for centuries to come, her people would know her, know her daughter, and remember them for what they had done. So, as time came to a close, and she passed away in the arms of her husband, she was not sad. Nor was Mathew or Venda. Because they knew that in her extending the baton to her daughter, she would never really have to say goodbye. Venda woul
d still be able to feel her mother’s love throughout her own reign as Chief, and would be able to pass that love through to her father.

  All was well, and it has been ever since. Over the years, some Casters, like yourself, have sought us out, pursuing the safety of the islands. And we still send out teams, searching for anyone we can to bring in. But if Anetta, my ancestor, had not done what she had, this place would never exist.’

  The room fell quiet as Megan’s tale came to a close. Laura’s palms were clammy and she felt out of breath. She couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t alone, she wasn’t the only one with such a power. And then it hit her.

  ‘Wait, ancestors? You mean, you were born through the bloodline? Not created in the way I was?’

  Megan gave Laura a small nod. ‘Yes. We can have children with whomever we choose. As long as the Caster is a female, however. The male can have children with a Human, but the Casters power is nullified. They cannot continue the bloodline with a Witch or Warlock for they lack the fundamental requirement of air. The only way a male’s Caster bloodline can continue is if they have children with a female Caster.’

  Laura sucked in a shaky breath and felt something shift within her. She’d never given kids much thought until moments ago when Megan had first mentioned that female Casters could carry through the bloodline to their children. She was far too young to be thinking about kids, and since the discovery of the Spirit World, she hadn’t really had the chance to dwell on the realisation that she would most likely never have them. But hearing that there was nothing for her to worry about was a weight she never realised she’d been carrying lifted.

  ‘Okay,’ Laura whispered, feeling a little overwhelmed.

  ‘Perhaps this is too much for you right now. You must be exhausted,’ Megan said, her face displaying a sense of concern.

  Laura shook her head. ‘No, please continue. I have to know everything.’