David Dalglish - The Prison of Angels

The entire town of Norstrom gathered around the rapist, yet they could do nothing. Three of the elders shouted in vain to keep the crowd calm. A fourth stood beside Colton, doing his best to console him.

“They know what’s right,” the old man said, rubbing his crooked nose. “Locke’s too far gone. They’ll kill him, quick and painless.”

Colton glared at the bound fiend. The man had been forced to his knees, his arms tied behind his back and a rope strung around his neck. Colton tied the rope himself, hoping no one would notice how tightly he’d been looping it until it was too late. They did notice, and Locke continued breathing, awaiting the mockery to come.

“What’s right, sure,” Colton said. “But what about what’s best?”

“Are they not the same?”

Colton shook his head.

“Right now they’re as far apart as the Abyss from the Golden Eternity.”

The signal had been given from the golden scepter, so it would not be long now. Together, townsfolk and rapist waited for the angel to arrive.

“I’m sorry,” Locke kept crying, his words shouted down by the hundred others in attendance, all so Colton would not hear. But he heard anyway, and the words put a knife in his gut. His poor Krista. Two years old. Two fucking years old.

The angel and his executioner’s blade couldn’t arrive fast enough.

“Colton!”

He turned, saw his wife Lily pushing through the crowd to join him. She held Krista in her arms, the child’s face pressed against her bosom. Krista’s eyes were shut, and she shook as if nightmare hounds howled for her blood. Reaching him, Lily leaned in close so she might be heard without shouting.

“Come with me,” she said. “Please, Colton, you don’t need to be here. You don’t need to watch.”

But he did need to watch. He had to make sure justice, true justice, was served.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He reached out for Krista, stopping when she flinched. Her innocence was gone, her trust brutalized out of her. Nothing could describe Colton’s rage, nothing, and he turned once more to where the man lay tied.

In Colton’s pocket was a slender knife, and he clutched it tightly.

“Here, at last,” said the elder, tugging on Colton’s sleeve while pointing to the sky.

Flying through the blue came the angel, his white wings the same color as the clouds he soared beneath. His golden armor shone, and when he dove for the town, Colton felt his breath catch in his throat. Despite his fury, despite the sickening nature of what was to transpire, he still felt himself swept with awe. Even though they had become increasingly commonplace, it did not diminish the awesome presence of an angel of Ashhur. The angel landed just outside the town center, and the people quickly gave way so he might approach. His hair was a deep white, his eyes a sparkling bronze. From his hip swung a long blade with a golden hilt.

“I am Ezekai, and I bring the blessings of Ashhur,” the angel said. His voice was deep, authoritative, the tone of a soldier. “I saw the signal in the sky and have come. What matter requires my aid?”

It was tradition, newly begun, that elders would describe the crimes, but Colton would have none of that. He pushed to the front, determined to hide how much he feared the celestial being before him.

“We have no need of your aid, just your sword,” he said. “I found this man in my barn atop my daughter, still attempting to remove his trousers. Cut his head off his shoulders, and let this be done with.”

Ezekai’s bronze eyes glanced to the bound Locke, then over Colton’s shoulders to where his wife and daughter stood.

“Your family?” Ezekai asked. Colton nodded. The angel approached, and his delicate features softened.

“You have felt a darkness no woman should ever feel,” he told Krista, reaching out his hand. She flinched, but it seemed not to bother Ezekai. “Especially so young. So very young.” His hand brushed against her face. Colton felt a lump grow in his throat as he watched Krista immediately relax. Her grip on Lily’s neck loosened, and then unbelievably, she smiled.

“No nightmares will follow you,” Ezekai said softly. “You will be happy, and you will know joy.”

“Praise be to Ashhur,” said a man beside Lily, and many others echoed the call. Colton felt his hands shake, and he fought to keep his rage strong. He told himself it didn’t matter if she’d been purged of the awful memories. What happened next did. Ezekai dipped his head in respect to Lily, then turned his attention to Locke. The rapist groveled, on his knees, his face pushed into the ground. Snot dripped from his nose, mixing with the dirt.

“Is it true what they say of you?” the angel asked. “Know that by your words, I will judge you, and that with my god’s blessing I will detect any lie.”

“Yes,” Locke said. “Ashhur forgive me, yes. It is.”

Colton’s jaw trembled. Ezekai knelt before Locke and lifted his chin so they might stare eye to eye. Locke was an older man, rail thin with a hawkish look to him. He’d never fit in well with the townsfolk, and now they all knew why.

“Do you understand the sin you’ve committed?” Ezekai asked.

“I do. I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I’ve tried, I’ve tried, please…”

The angel stood.

“Locke, do you repent of your crime?”

“Yes, yes, I do!”

“Do you seek the grace and mercy of Ashhur, your god?”

“Yes,” Locke said, sobbing now.

Ezekai looked to the town. All eyes were upon him. Lily’s hand slipped into Colton’s, and he squeezed it.

“He speaks with truth and sincerity,” the angel said at last, and it was like a wind blew through the town. “Locke, I forgive you of your crimes. Go and live your life without sin.”

“No,” Colton said, pulling away from his wife and forcing his way to the front of the crowd. “That won’t work, not this time. He’s sick. He’s a danger to us, to our children! She’s only two, gods damn it, and still he tried to take her.”

“This is the law we live under, the law of Ashhur,” Ezekai said. Colton hated the way the angel looked down at him, like he was an ant or a child. “Locke’s repentance is real, his sorrow genuine.”

“Of course it is! A man would say anything, do anything, to save his life. He doesn’t mean it. That sorry sack of shit cries only for himself!”

“I would know if that were true,” the angel said, shaking his head.

Colton spun, addressing the crowd, almost daring them to look him in the eye.

“Do all of you accept that?” he asked them. “Do you feel we’ve seen what’s right? Do you think we’ve had justice?”

With the decree given, the men holding Locke released him for fear of the angel’s wrath. The man staggered to his feet, still tugging at the ropes around his wrists.

“Please, Colton, I beg of you,” Locke said, reaching out his hands for Colton’s shirt. “Forg-”

Before any could stop him, before any could even think of what he meant to do, Colton pulled the knife from his pocket and thrust it through Locke’s right eye. It had to be quick, he knew. Had to be fast, lest the angel heal him. Deeper and deeper he shoved the blade, and all around he heard screaming. Men tackled him, but he let out a laugh, for it was far too late. Locke’s body lay in the dirt, arms and legs convulsing.

“You damn fool,” someone whispered into Colton’s ear, but he didn’t know who. There was too much commotion, too much fear. Strong men lifted him to his feet, men he worked with in the fields and shared stories with at the tavern as they guzzled down Ugly Bett’s ale. When Colton looked up he saw the angel towering over him. His bronze eyes stared at the blood on Colton’s hand. He showed no sign of anger or frustration, only sorrow.