“Yeah,” Gabriel added, interrupting his thoughts. “Try harder.”
“That’s enough out of you,” Aaron said, pressing his hands against the bite. If only he could remember what he did that awful morning in Lynn when Gabriel had been hit by the car. After all, if he could return him from the brink of death then, he could certainly heal a simple bite now.
“It hurts, Aaron.”
“I know, pal. I’m going to fix you up, just as soon as…”
Camael bent closer. “Let go your humanity and embrace the angelic,” he boomed. “To fear it is to fear yourself.”
Aaron was reminded of similar words spoken by Zeke that fateful Saturday—had it really only been two weeks ago? So much had changed in such a short time. He closed his eyes and willed the power forward.
He could sense it there, somewhere in the pitch black behind his eyes. He beckoned to it, but it ignored his call, perhaps perturbed at him for not allowing it to manifest during the battle with the Orishas. He concentrated all the more, his body trembling with exertion.
“That’s it, rein it in,” he heard Camael say quietly from beside him. “Take control and make it your own.”
Aaron commanded the power to come forward, and it slowly turned its attention to him. He pushed again with his mind, and suddenly, with the speed of thought, it moved, shifting its form—mammal, insect, reptile, all shapes of life, the menagerie of God. The force surged through him, and Aaron gasped with the rush of it. His eyes flew open, and he gazed up into the late afternoon sky, at the clouds above and the universe beyond his own. “It’s here,” he whispered, feeling his body throb with the ancient power.
“Excellent,” Camael hissed in his ear. “Now wrestle it, take control—show it you are master.”
And Aaron did as he was told. The power fought him, trying to overwhelm him with the sheer force of its might, but Aaron held on, corralling it, moving its strength to where it was needed. He felt the power flood into his upper body, moving down the length of his arms and into his hands.
“I … I feel something happening, Aaron,” Gabriel said, fear in his guttural voice.
“It’s going to be all right,” Aaron soothed as he felt the raw energy flow from the tips of his fingers into the dog’s injured leg. He willed the power to heal his best friend, and he stared at the gaping wound, waiting for it to close—but nothing happened. Again, he willed it, and the power danced about the injury—but it did nothing.
Aaron pulled away, exhausted, hands tingling painfully. “I don’t understand,” he said in a breathless whisper. He looked up at Camael looming above him. “I did what you said—I took control and I commanded it to heal Gabriel’s wound—but it didn’t do a thing.”
Camael stared thoughtfully at the Lab, absently reaching up to run his fingers through his goatee. “Interesting,” he observed. “Perhaps your animal has become more complex than even you understand.”
Aaron shook his head, confused. “I don’t…”
“When the animal was healed before—”
“This animal has a name,” Gabriel interrupted with annoyance.
“It’s okay, boy,” Aaron said, patting the dog’s head, comforting him.
“As I was saying,” Camael said, glaring at the dog, “when the animal was healed before, the power you wielded was raw, in its purest form—its most potent state. You commanded it to repair Gabriel, and it did just that—only I think it may have altered him as well.”
“I don’t feel altered,” the dog said. “My leg just hurts.”
“Are you saying that Gabriel is too complicated a life-form for me to fix now?”
The angel nodded.
“But how could I have done that?” Aaron asked as he gently stroked his dog’s side.
“You didn’t,” Camael corrected. “You just gave the command, and the presence within you took it from there.”
If he hadn’t been afraid of the power that lived within him before, he certainly would be now, but that didn’t change the fact that Gabriel was still hurt. “Gabriel needs medical attention,” Aaron said, staring down at his best friend. “He may be a complex life-form, but he still needs to have that bite cleaned up.”
“Then I suggest we continue on with our journey,” the angel said, “and hopefully we’ll be able to find medical help for him in Blithe.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Aaron said after a moment’s thought. He reached out and hefted the eighty-pound canine over his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said sarcastically to the angel, grunting with exertion, “I got him.”
“Yes, you do,” Camael said as he strode into the woods toward the direction of the car.
“Sometimes he bugs the crap out of me,” Aaron muttered, following the angel, careful not to stumble with his burden.
“That’s just how they are,” Gabriel said matter-of-factly.
“How who are?”
“Angels.”
“What, you’re an expert on angels now?”
“Well, I am a complex being,” the dog replied haughtily.
CHAPTER FOUR
I am the shaman. They should have listened to me, Shokad of the Orishas thought as he feverishly wove his ancient elemental magicks and tunneled deep beneath the earth. They never should have tried to capture the Nephilim—the bones and stones had told him as much. But did they listen? No. They let their fear counsel them, the fear that spoke to their chief during the night, promising sweet victory. They should have listened to me, he thought bitterly.
His throat as dry as dust from spell casting, Shokad stopped speaking, and the earth stilled around him. He leaned close to the curved tunnel wall, looking for signs of life. Careful not to break it, he pulled a thick, squirming earthworm from the dirt and popped it into his maw. He chewed vigorously, the juice from the worm’s muscular body filling his mouth and coating his throat. He ate his fill, then squatted in the tunnel to rest.
Where do I go from here? the shaman pondered. He closed his eyes, and his mind immediately was filled with blissful images of what could only have been the Safe Place. He saw his people, the ones who had abandoned the Deheboryn many seasons ago, living in harmony with nature, no longer fearing the wrath of the Powers. “They were not killed,” he muttered, completely enthralled with the vision. They had managed to evade the wrath of Verchiel and his soldiers, and had found Paradise.
Shokad blessed himself repeatedly, basking in the glory that was the vision of his people thriving within the confines of the Safe Place. It filled him with such joy—and a newfound purpose.
The shaman opened his eyes to the cool darkness of the tunnel and climbed to his feet. He could feel it calling to him now. He could hear it whispering in his ears, drawing him to its secret location. The Safe Place was calling, and all he need do was follow.
He faced the solid wall of dirt before him and recited the ancient words taught by his angelic creators. With these words he could commune with the elements, making them bend to his requests. Shokad asked the dirt wall to allow him passage, and it did as it was asked, flowing around the shaman as he moved toward the promise of Paradise. The wings upon his back flapped eagerly as he trudged through the earth, the Safe Place whispering in his ear, closer—and closer still.