Redemption (Stand-Alone, Spin-Off to Reaper Series), page 11
Eve climbed to her feet, ruffling the feathers on her wings in mild agitation.
“Charon,” Eve said, partly in greeting, but mostly in annoyance. “Why’d you bring me here? There are people who need me, there was-”
“I know what there was, Eve,” Charon interrupted quietly. His voice was loud and quiet at the same time, an ethereal whisper that boomed through the cave. He seemed to speak with not just one voice, but rather a thousand voices, all calling from within a deep well, all echoing off the walls. “I noticed the sudden influx of souls and knew something had happened.”
“Then you know that people are hurt, as well,” Eve said, frowning.
“Yes,” Charon nodded. “What I do not know is why you are among them. It was my understanding that the Angels swore against direct involvement with humans.”
“This was different,” Eve sighed, getting tired of having to explain herself. “My father allowed it, you can ask him if you like.”
“Oh, I do not doubt that,” Charon said. “He could have easily stopped you from attending that gathering if he so chose. And I do not mean to sound as though I am disapproving of your actions, that is not my place. I merely wished to express my concern.”
“Charon, please,” Eve began. “I know you have good intentions, you always do, but I need to get back to my friends, they could be hurt.”
“If it is the man known as Javan that you are referring to,” Charon said, “I do not believe you need to be concerned.”
Eve, momentarily surprised that Charon knew about Javan, thought back to Javan’s miraculous regeneration after the explosion. The feathers he had stitched into his flesh truly worked. Javan had guaranteed immortality for himself.
“Yeah, I know,” Eve nodded. “It’s mostly… someone else I’m worried about. Javan’s clearly going to be fine, he heals like any Angel can.”
“That is not exactly what I meant,” Charon said darkly.
Eve looked up at Charon’s pale, rotten face. “What aren’t you saying, Charon?”
Charon seemed to sigh deeply, as though he was hesitant to tell Eve what he had brought her to the River to say.
“When the influx occurred,” he began, “I was initially surprised, of course. I often am when these things happen. With my curiosity piqued, I began to look into the memories of those who had their lives brought to a sudden end in the explosion. I quickly found the one who had set off the explosion.”
The man with the graying hair. Eve thought of his face and felt both confusion and fury at his memory.
“I looked into his memories,” Charon continued. “I saw something there that I found to be rather… troubling. And I believe you should know.”
“Why?” Eve asked. “What was it?”
“I saw this man speaking to another,” Charon said. “A man who was telling him to pose as a reporter. This man gave him access to the event. Gave him the explosive vest he used to kill those people. This man was tricked. He believed that the explosion would kill you, Eve. You were his target.”
“Me?” Eve repeated, scarcely able to believe it. “Why me? What’d I do?”
“You? Nothing,” Charon replied. “But there is a movement on Earth of people who are against the existence of Angels entirely. Ever since the invasion, many humans believe that Angels cannot be trusted and that you want to destroy humanity, bring about the End of Days.”
“That’s just stupid!” Eve cried, offended. “So, what? This guy decided to send a message by blowing me up? Didn’t he know that wouldn’t do anything to me?”
“Apparently not,” Charon said, shaking his great head. “But that is not the truly unsettling part of this news.”
“What is it?”
“The identity of the man who instructed the bomber to attempt killing you,” Charon said. “He is the one you call Javan.”
Despite the sincerity of Charon’s tone, Eve regarded him as though he was attempting to play a bad joke on her.
“That’s impossible,” Eve said, smiling and shaking her head. “No way. Javan wouldn’t do that.”
“I understand that this is difficult for you to hear,” Charon said somberly. “But please believe me, Eve. I speak only the truth. Memories do not lie. Not to me.”
“Then you read them wrong,” Eve insisted, a little harshly. “There’s just… just no way that Javan could have done this. He got caught in the blast. He wouldn’t have risked his own life.”
“The way I understand it,” Charon began, “Javan was never in any danger. Gabriel spoke to me several days ago, worried about you. Does Javan not have immortality from your own feathers? Would I be right in assuming that he immediately regenerated after the explosion?”
“Well, yeah!” Eve admitted, beginning to sound angry. “So?”
“So,” Charon emphasized. “If he can heal himself due to your feathers being embedded in his flesh, would he not care if he were injured? He could survive anything you can.”
Eve was still shaking her head. “But he wouldn’t blow up a room full of people. I mean, why would he? If I was the target, Javan would have known that I’d survive an explosion. It’d be pointless. You have to be wrong.”
“Eve, I truly wish I was,” Charon sighed. “But the memories were clear and fresh. There is no mistake.”
“But… But…” Eve struggled to think of more arguments, feeling her heart rate rise as she cast around wildly for a reason, any reason, that Charon was wrong. “But Javan cares about people. He cares for the homeless, he helped Isaiah off the street, he donates money. He has scientists working to make the world a better place! How could he do all that and then murder dozens of people?”
“You are having difficulty with this,” Charon observed. “That is to be understood. You believed Javan to be a friend, and this is a betrayal in every sense of the word. Perhaps it would help if you saw what I saw.”
Without waiting for a response, Charon reached down with a great white hand and placed it upon Eve’s head. She began to protest, but her indignant cry was lost in her throat as she suddenly found herself no longer in the cave beside the River, but in Javan’s suite, staring up at the painting of her own eyes. A moment later, she heard a voice and turned to see Javan looking back at her.
She was staring out through the eyes of the bomber, living his memories as if they were her own. As she looked upon Javan’s smiling face, she saw her hand, or the bomber’s hand, reach out and accept the drink that Javan was holding out for her to take. Then there was another voice and Eve realized it was the bomber who was speaking.
“Why have you asked me here?”
“I wanted to discuss a matter that relates to the work you’re doing,” Javan replied as he sat down on the sofa and gestured for the bomber to do the same.
Eve watched the room tilt and rise as the bomber sat down opposite Javan.
“My work is God’s work,” the bomber replied. “His Angels have abandoned him, clearly. They attacked humanity without cause or reason. I’m determined to make sure that never happens again. Which is why I’m confused about why you of all people would want to talk to me so… graciously.”
“Why is it strange that I want to talk to you?” Javan asked, sipping on his drink.
“You have clearly befriended one of the rebelling Angels,” the bomber accused. “She attended your benefit with you. The red-haired harlot.”
“I think we can leave name-calling out of this, don’t you?” Javan asked coldly, his eyes ice cold as he regarded the bomber, while Eve looked on through the bomber’s eyes.
“Even now you defend her,” the bomber pointed out. “This is exactly why I don’t trust for a moment anything you say to me.”
“Sir, there is a difference between you and me,” Javan said. “You’re the kind of person who’ll make signs, stand on the street and yell at strangers, protest funerals and condemn complete strangers for no reason other than you disagree with them. And me? Well, I’d like to actually change the world.”
“And is that why you brought me here?” the bomber asked. “To change the world?”
“In a way,” Javan replied. “See, I know what your group wants. Your goal is to make sure the Angels never come back to Earth again, correct?”
“Yes,” the bomber said. “Not until they accept God once more, as we all should.”
“An admirable goal,” Javan said dismissively. “And what have you done so far to make that happen?”
At Javan’s question, the bomber replied with only silence. The seconds ticked by and Javan grinned at the lack of response.
“That’s what I thought,” he said. “Now, what if I told you that I could give you the opportunity to not only send a message to the world about what you’re trying to do, but you could also send a message to all the Angels?”
“And how would I do this?” the bomber asked coldly.
“Simple,” Javan replied. “The Angel has agreed to speak at a press conference, to tell the world the truth about the invasion and the Global Revelation.”
“God undid their sinful acts of murder and defiance,” the bomber snapped. “Nothing more.”
“Maybe so,” Javan nodded. “But don’t you want the world to know that? Don’t you want the Angels to know that they can’t mess with humanity and not have us fight back? Don’t you want them to know that God is angry with them?”
“Of course,” the bomber replied. “But you still haven’t told me how to do that.”
“I can get you in to the press conference,” Javan said. “I can get you a press badge to get you past security. I can get you a seat, front row and center, where you can easily reach the Angel when she speaks. From there, you can kill her. Sending your message to the world, and to Heaven itself.”
The bomber snorted derisively. “You’re more foolish than I thought. I can’t kill an Angel. Bullets do nothing to them, we learned that much during the invasion.”
“But what if you had something stronger?” Javan asked. “I’ve been studying the Angels for years, ever since the invasion. Those who died and had bodies to leave behind, I’ve been studying them. They’re actually remarkably similar to humans in physiology, all the way down to coding in their DNA. And we’ve determined that something of a high explosive nature will kill an Angel.”
“Explosive?” the bomber asked. “You want me to detonate a bomb?”
“Why not?” Javan asked, spreading his palms wide. “It would kill the Angel, send a message to the world, and let the Angels know that humans are prepared to fight back. Not to mention that Eve is a very high ranking Angel. She is only a few notches below God himself. Killing her would definitely let Heaven know you’re not screwing around.”
“The explosives would definitely kill her?” the bomber asked. “And what about the people who would be there?”
“What about them?” Javan asked coldly.
Eve suddenly saw the inside of a glass as the bomber tipped back his glass and downed the alcohol in one go, slamming the glass down on the coffee table when he was done.
“Very well,” the bomber said. “But won’t you be at the conference? You could be killed, too.”
Javan grinned mysteriously, leaning back on the sofa and crossing his leg over the other. “Let me answer that by asking you another question,” he said. “Aren’t you willing to die for what you believe in?”
Javan’s smiling face suddenly faded away and Eve found herself looking up at Charon once more, who was taking his hand away from her head. Eve felt weak, not because looking into someone else’s memories was particularly tiring, though. She felt weak because she had just witnessed someone she trusted, someone she considered a friend, plotting to murder her. He had no regard at all for the dozens of people who were essentially collateral damage, dismissing them as though they were not living people, as though they meant nothing.
“I feel like I could puke,” Eve whispered hoarsely.
“I doubt that,” Charon replied. “Angels cannot vomit.”
“It’s an expression, okay?” Eve snapped, then immediately felt guilty. “I’m sorry. I just…”
“It’s alright, Eve,” Charon said. “I know this is difficult for you.”
“Why?” Eve asked. “Why would he do this? He’s my friend. At least… I thought he was.” Eve’s face suddenly contorted in rage and she ruffled her feathers in aggravation. “Dammit! I’m so stupid! Gabriel warned me about this! He said Javan couldn’t change, and he was right! Javan’s as much of a monster as he ever was. You’d think he’d learn something in almost two millions years, but no! And what the Hell was all that about, anyway? He knew the explosion wouldn’t kill me! Why would he say that it would? Why did he convince that guy to be a suicide bomber for him? It’s just-I don’t-he couldn’t-SON OF A BITCH!”
“I am sorry, Eve,” Charon said softly, his ethereal voice full of empathy. “It may be a good idea to sever ties with this friend of yours.”
Eve shook her head angrily. “No. Not yet. I need to understand why he’d do this. He’s up to something, he knew that explosion wouldn’t kill me. I need to find out what he’s doing.”
Charon frowned. “Eve, I feel I must remind you that Javan is human. Any action you take against him could be seen as interference. You may get in trouble.”
“He’s not human,” Eve snarled, her green eyes blazing with rage and the hurt of betrayal. “He’s a monster. He gave up his humanity the second he stitched my feathers inside his chest. I can’t believe he has my feathers, that lying piece of-”
“Eve, please see reason,” Charon interrupted. “Your father has allowed this relationship to continue thus far because of his love for you, and you were technically not interfering. If you seek revenge, you will be, without a doubt, breaking your oath.”
“I won’t do anything,” Eve snapped. “I just need to understand why Javan did this. How he can care for the homeless and needy while murdering dozens more.”
“Eve, I strongly advise against this,” Charon insisted.
“Don’t worry, Charon,” Eve said, already opening a vortex of swirling violet light with just a wave of her hand. “It’ll be fine. There’s no rule against spying, is there?”
Without waiting for a reply, Eve turned and walked into the vortex, leaving Charon and the River behind as the vortex closed behind her. Charon couldn’t help but sigh in despair.
When Eve arrived back at Javan’s building, where he housed the homeless and ran several labs, she chose not to take the entrance. Instead, the swirling vortex of violet light appeared directly in the middle of a hallway, which was on one of the floors that housed the homeless and needy. Eve stepped out of the vortex and let it close behind her as she looked around scrupulously, still furious that Javan had not only lied to her, but mercilessly killed dozens of innocent people. For no reason at all. He knew the explosion would not have harmed Eve in the slightest, and yet he convinced some misguided fool to blow himself up in a room full of people to supposedly kill her. Thinking about it made Eve angrier by the second.
Focusing on the task at hand, Eve began to slowly walk down the hallway. It looked normal enough. Almost like a hotel. The floor was a highly polished wood and the wallpaper was warm and inviting. Bright lights kept the hallway well lit, but still Eve felt uneasy. Like something was wrong. It only took her a moment to realize what was causing her tension.
There was no sound. She would have expected that she could hear something. Voices of people talking over coffee. The sounds of a television on the opposite side of the wall. Music as someone played a radio while they cooked or cleaned. And yet, there was nothing. The entire apartment was eerily silent. No voices. No music. Nothing.
Eve stepped up to the nearest door and knocked, hoping that whoever lived inside might be able to shed some light on the situation. A few moments went by and no one answered the door. Eve knocked again, but the result was the same, leaving Eve standing by herself in the hallway, her confusion and tension only growing.
Maybe they’re out? Eve thought.
As much as she wanted to believe that, however, she didn’t. Something was wrong.
I need to see inside.
Reaching out, Eve tried the door handle. As she suspected, it was locked. On the door, just beneath the handle, was an electronic device that had a small slot in it, looking just large enough to fit a credit card. Studying it, Eve figured anyone trying to get into this room would need a keycard to unlock the door. Then again, she doubted the designer of the lock had Angels in mind when they made it.
Wrapping her fingers around the door handle once more, Eve yanked and ripped the handle from the door like she was merely taking apart pieces of Lego. Tossing the handle aside, Eve reached into the hole in the door and removed the locking mechanism, carelessly dropping it on the floor. With the door now “unlocked,” Eve placed her hand on the wood and gently pushed it open, allowing her a full view of the room inside. When she saw inside, however, her eyes bulged in horror and her mouth fell open in a silent scream.
There was a man inside, but he barely looked human anymore. He was sitting upright in a chair, his arms and legs strapped in with strong leather restraints. His head was held up and immobile by yet another strap, which was wrapped tightly around his forehead, holding it against the tall back of the chair. There were numerous tubes running from strange machines, most of which appearing to withdraw different fluids from his body. One tube ran inside his open mouth and down his throat. Eve could see the wide tube pressing against the inside of the man’s neck. And the worst of it…
The top of his skull had been removed. Eve could clearly see the man’s brain inside his skull, poking out through the top of his head. Various small tools were embedded inside of it, like meat thermometers in a roast. And to make the entire sight even more horrid, his eyes were wide open, staring directly at Eve, as though the eyes themselves were screaming.
