Bryan Davis - Eye of the Oracle

Gabriel tried to cover her with his wings and lay an arm over her shoulders, but it was useless. She couldn’t feel the slightest bit of reassurance from an invisible, massless comforter.

He straightened to his full height and spread his wings as he gazed upward. “What can I do?” he called out in his electrostatic voice. “If you want me to guard her, at least let me do my job! I know exactly how she feels! I can help her!”

He looked at Bonnie and yelled as loud as he could. “Bonnie! Can you hear me?”

Bonnie’s red, tear-stained face peeked out. Her eyes widened. She laid her palms on the floor and slid back toward the wall, trembling.

Gabriel lowered his voice slightly. “Don’t be afraid,” he said, holding out his hand. “I won’t hurt you.”

Bonnie swallowed. “Who. . who are you?”

“My name is Gabriel.”

“Gabriel?” Bonnie pointed at her bookshelf. “Like the angel in the Bible?”

Gabriel noted a child-sized Bible lying on top of the shelf. How should he answer? He certainly didn’t want to lie. He took a half step closer. “What do I look like to you?”

Bonnie wiggled her fingers. “Like a sparkly ghost with wings. I can see right through you.”

“It’s fair to say that I am like a guardian angel, for I have been assigned to watch over you.”

“Why?” Bonnie pointed at herself. “I’m not important.”

“You are far more important than you realize. You heard about your wings, didn’t you?”

Bonnie’s eyes teared up again. “Daddy said I’m a freak.”

“Look at me.” Gabriel flapped his wings. “Do you think I’m a freak?”

“No.” Bonnie wiped a tear with her finger. “But you’re an angel.”

Gabriel knelt next to her and caressed her hair with his hand. “And so are you, the sweetest angel I have ever met.”

Bonnie raised her hand and set it on Gabriel’s arm. “I can’t feel you at all.”

“No, and you couldn’t see me earlier, even though I was with you all day.”

“All day?” Bonnie sniffed and smiled. “Really?”

“Yes, I saw that sour bus driver and those mean boys, but I also saw your new friend Carly and her Tigger lunch box.”

Bonnie took in a quick breath. “You really were there!”

“And I will stay with you as long as I can. Even if you can’t see me or hear me, I’ll be there.”

Bonnie drew back her hand. “You’re disappearing! Don’t go!”

“I won’t go. I’ll stay here all night.”

“I can barely hear you now.”

“Then hurry to bed, and I’ll sing you to sleep.”

“Oh, please do!” Bonnie jumped up and turned off her light, then, throwing back her blanket, she nestled into her bed. “I’m ready!” Her eyes darted around. “But I can’t see you anymore.”

Gabriel knelt at her bedside. “Can you still hear me?”

“Yes, but like a whisper.”

“Okay. Close your eyes. I’ll sing as loud as I can.”

Bonnie closed her eyes tightly and drew her blanket up to her chin. Her delicate lashes still sparkled with leftover tears.

Gabriel stroked her hair again and sang.

Whither shall I go from thy spirit?

Or whither shall I flee from thy presence?

If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there:

If I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.

Bonnie smiled. Her eyelids began to relax, and she sighed deeply.

If I take the wings of the morning,

and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea;

Even there shall thy hand lead me,

and thy right hand shall hold me.

If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me;

even the night shall be light about me.

Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee;

but the night shineth as the day:

The darkness and the light are both alike to thee.

As light from the window faded, Bonnie opened her eyes again. “Are you still here?”

“Yes, I’m still here.”

“Gabriel?” She reached out her hand. “Are you here?”

“Yes, sweet angel,” Gabriel said, laying his hand on hers. “Can’t you hear me?”

Bonnie’s eyes darted around again. “Gabriel?”

Gabriel tried to hold her hand, but his fingers passed right through hers. “I won’t leave you, Bonnie. I would give my life to protect you.”

Bonnie straightened out the wrinkles on her blanket and laid her arms on top. “Gabriel, I guess I can’t hear you anymore, but you said you’d stay with me, so I know you must be here.” She closed her eyes again and smiled. “Angels never lie.”

November, 2002

Elam carried a lantern through the corridor that led to the ancient chamber. He glanced back at the man walking behind him, a tall, older gentleman who had to duck to make his way under the low ceiling. It had been hundreds of years since he had seen Merlin, but this new arrival looked so much like the old prophet, it was frightening.

“Almost there, Professor Hamilton,” Elam said. “The ceiling gets higher in a few seconds.”

“It’s quite all right, my good fellow. The anticipated meeting is well worth such trivial unpleasantries.”

When Elam passed the final doorway, light from within the chamber washed out his lantern, so he lifted the glass and blew out the flame. Beside him, Professor Hamilton ran his fingers through his wild, gray hair. “Remarkable!” he said, gazing all around.

Elam smiled. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

A voice beckoned from the far end of the chamber. “Charles! Welcome!” Patrick waved at them from the round table in the back. “Come here and join us.”

Elam led Charles over the compass design on the floor in the center of the room. “The table used to be here,” Elam said. “I’m not sure why they moved it.”

Professor Hamilton slowed his pace as he passed over the design. His eyes locked on one of the sketches. “Astounding!”

When they reached Patrick, Elam stopped for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust. Three bright lanterns formed a triangle at the center of the table, illuminating Patrick’s face and the faces of four other men. Their eyes followed Charles as he drew close to one of two empty spaces.

Patrick nodded at the chair. “Please sit, my friend.”

Elam strode to Patrick’s side, taking his place as the oldest errand boy who ever lived.

Professor Hamilton slid out the chair and cleared his throat. “May I say, Sir Patrick, that I am honored by your selection of me as a new member of this distinguished body, and ”

“Oh, cut the squash!” one of the men boomed. He then laughed and patted the man next to him on the back. “We’re about as distinguished as rubber socks! Aren’t we, Kaplan?”

Kaplan glared at him. “Rubber socks? What’s the connection?”

“Nobody knows we exist!” The man burst out with a series of belly laughs.

“I know rubber socks exist,” a third man protested.

“Quiet!” Patrick raised his hand. “Let’s not give our new designate the wrong impression.”

Kaplan drummed his fingers. “It seems to me that he is getting exactly the right impression. All we ever do in our meetings is crack jokes and tell tall tales. When McCorkle died, maybe we should have just propped up his body in his chair, then we wouldn’t have needed a replacement.”

The first man piped up again. “McCorkle’s corpse would be funnier than he ever was. That’s for certain.”

“The point is,” Kaplan continued, “that waiting for Arthur’s heir to arrive has been like sitting in the maternity ward waiting for fifteen hundred years of labor to finally end. It’s no wonder we expectant fathers are getting a bit punchy.”