Thomas Sniegoski - Where Angels Fear to Tread

The child had lost control, her fear causing the power to lash out uncontrollably and strike at the world that scared her.

She needed to see a friendly face; she needed to see someone who would tell her it was going to be all right. Not having any idea of what had happened to Deryn York, Remy took it upon himself to be that person. He hoped the little girl, filled with the power of creation, would recognize him, and not extinguish his life with a bolt of lightning.

The dirt and rock swirled faster in the air, stinging his exposed flesh. His clothes were in tatters, just one of the many pitfalls of assuming an angelic form, but he struggled on, shielding his eyes from the scouring grit, as he made his way toward the little girl at the center of the storm.

Through the maelstrom he saw her, a tiny, shivering figure lying upon the ground.

“Zoe,” he called out over the howling wind.

Her eyes were closed, and she hugged herself into a tight little ball.

“Zoe, I’m here,” he called again as he got closer.

Spears of lightning rained down in front of him, turning the areas struck to glass, but after a momentary pause, Remy continued on.

“Open your eyes, Zoe,” Remy called out. “It’s me. . the one you drew. . the one you said would protect you.”

The wind picked up, roaring like a hungry monster, and Remy felt himself begin to be lifted by the intensifying conditions.

“Zoe, it’s me. . Please. . It’s Remy.”

Through the churn of dirt, he saw that she had opened her eyes.

The storm winds grew more powerful, and he desperately tried to hold on, sinking his fingers deep into the broken ground to anchor himself.

He knew he didn’t have long. If the storm became any fiercer, he would be tossed away like the flotsam and jetsam that already clogged the air. This would be his chance. . the human chance. . and if he failed, there would be only one other way to put an end to the potential cataclysm.

The angelic way.

The Seraphim was there, waiting as always, waiting to prove that it was the superior nature, and as much as it pained him to admit, its solution was the likely answer.

The world was coming apart around him, and it was only a matter of time before he was torn apart by the storm. Remy was allowing the angel to flow through him again, to reassert mastery over their form, when the scouring winds almost instantly died down.

Remy dropped to the ground, covering his head as all the floating debris and rubble picked up by the power of the Almighty was released, and gravity reasserted its sway, raining it down upon the land.

Wiping grit and grime from his eyes, he raised his head to see what had happened and looked into the tear-filled eyes of a frightened little girl.

“Where’s your dog?” she asked in a tiny squeak of a voice.

“He’s home,” Remy said, getting to his feet and brushing dirt from what remained of his clothes. “And he thought the pictures of him were really beautiful.”

That almost got a smile, and as he drew closer, Zoe came to him. Remy knelt down, taking her into his arms. Squeezing his neck, almost to the point of choking him, she began to cry.

“Shhhhh,” Remy said, patting her back. “It’s all right. Everything is all right now,” he said, comforting her.

He could still sense that she was in possession of the power, but somehow she had found the strength to keep it down and to gain control of her fear.

The Seraphim grumbled and roiled within him, unconvinced that the threat had been averted, but Remy believed it had.

“Would you like to go home?” he asked her. “How would that be?”

“Yes,” she squeaked, still holding on to him for dear life. “Me and Mommy want to go home to Florida and swim in the ocean with dolphins,” she said, hiccupping back more tears.

Gazing about the wreckage of the event that had transpired, Remy had no idea whether Deryn York had survived. His eyes immediately fell upon a form, carefully climbing over the rubble-strewn ground, and he was excited to see that it was Zoe’s mother.

But she wasn’t alone.

Delilah stood behind the woman, and the closer she got, Remy saw that the temptress had the tip of a large knife pressed to the woman’s throat as they walked awkwardly side by side.

“Bravo, Mr. Chandler,” Delilah said. “The power to calm a storm. I’m very impressed.”

“Let her go, Delilah,” Remy said, exasperated by the whole thing. “Don’t you think we’ve all gone through enough?”

“No truer words were ever spoken,” Delilah said. “Do you seriously think I’d walk away after this without my prize?” she asked.

He was still holding Zoe in his arms, and she lifted her face to see what was happening. Remy would have rather she didn’t, but there was no stopping her.

“Mommy!” she screeched, seeing her mother.

“Hey, baby,” Deryn said, trying to sound calm, but the blade’s tip being pushed against the soft part of her dirty throat didn’t make for the most calming situation.

“Put Zoe down, Remy,” Delilah instructed. “And let the child come to her mother.”

Zoe squirmed to be free, but Remy did not want to release her.

“Put her down now,” Delilah raged, putting more pressure on the bayonet and causing Deryn to cry out.

The child was fighting him now, so he obliged.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, watching as the child ran to them.

“I’m going to make it all better,” Delilah said, watching the child with hungry eyes.

Delilah released Deryn, just as Zoe reached her, allowing the two to embrace.

“Don’t,” Remy cried out, hoping there was a chance that. .

“I promise you it’ll be a wonderful world,” Delilah said, snatching the child away from her mother, and preparing to kiss her—preparing to consume the power of God inside her.

The Seraphim emerged again, although Remy still managed to maintain most of his control, as he spread his wings and flew to the child’s aid.

There was a flash of light so bright that it blinded him. Remy dropped from the air, rolling across the dirt. Blinding explosions of color erupted in front of his eyes as he struggled to regain his sight.

He could hear Zoe crying and Deryn’s calming words of comfort, but he still had no idea what had occurred.

His vision finally clearing, Remy looked around. He saw a blackened and smoldering body upon the ground that must have been Delilah, and beside it, Deryn York clutching her child protectively as she gazed ahead, eyes wide in surprise.

“What now,” Remy muttered as he slowly turned to see the cause of the woman’s reaction.

The Retrievers stood like statues, staring intently at the mother and child. And suddenly everything made horrible sense. Remy knew why the angels had been in Methuselah’s—and why they were here now.

He and the Retrievers had actually been searching for the same thing, the only difference being that he had been looking for the child, whereas they had been looking for what had been hiding inside her.

Still manifesting aspects of the Seraphim, Remy ruffled his wings threateningly as he moved to position himself closer to the mother and child.

One of the Retriever hosts raised his armored arm and pointed a sword that resembled a large splinter of ice at Deryn and Zoe.

“We want what is inside the child,” the angel said in an emotionless monotone. “Allow us to relieve her of it, and we will be on our way.”

Remy found it interesting that the Lord God had sent His bloodhounds to retrieve something that had been here since the beginning of the world.

Why now? he wondered. What’s so crucial that He would take back this power now?

Deryn held her child all the tighter, looking at Remy and back to the fearsome pair.