The Forsaken(13)

“Can I help you, son?”

The gruff voice was filled with caring. Nat took the offered invitation, needing to cleanse his emotions. He searched within himself for that steel-honed Seraphim balance he’d been taught and found himself lacking.

“Thank you.” He stepped through the door, feeling the wide space of the synagogue stretch before him. His gaze moved lovingly to the large eight-foot-high wooden heichal, the Torah ark, looking like an exact copy of the one in the Seraphim Prayer house. He blinked twice, wondering if this was a sign.

“You look like you’ve lost your best friend, if you don’t mind my observation,” said the rabbi.

“Something like that,” mumbled Nat.

Dressed in traditional dark robes and wearing what humans called a kippah—a small white head covering—the rabbi looked quite old. His gray beard reached his chest and wrinkles marred his face, making him seem kind and thoughtful. Nat didn’t understand the dress code, but this wasn’t his culture. Seraphim angels most certainly did not cover their heads when praying to the Almighty. Their prayer robes were white, not dark in color, and underneath their robes angels wore nothing. Purity of mind and body to help cleanse the soul.

The rabbi swept him farther inside the wide space. The smell of polished pine lingered in the air, and worn leather along with a hint of incense filled him, bringing him a measure of peace. Large, exposed honey-colored pine columns jutted toward the ceiling. Nat judged the building to be at least two stories high. He liked that it reminded him of his realm. Not entirely sure what he’d expected, he realized he ached for the ritual of home. Seeking the comfort of prayer had become a necessity.

“Do you mind, Rabbi, if I pray?” Nat moved toward the front of a large but thin wooden bench. The sweet smell of incense, stronger at the front, hit him again with the longing for home, while the rough-hued ivory color of the walls instantly soothed. Everything in his realm was white or varying shades of ivory. He found the brilliance of color that splattered thoroughly across Earth oddly disjointed. Did Isabella feel the same?

The rabbi chuckled, and Nat drew up.

“Mind if you pray? You’re joking, right? This is the Almighty’s house, my son. Pray all you want. It’s not every day, or should I say night, that I get a person darkening the door asking to pray. I will take that as a blessing. If you have need to talk, I will listen. But I warn you now—I tend to give advice.” He gave a bold wink of understanding, and Nat grinned in earnest. He smiled for the first time that day.

“Thank you. I am honored by your offer of guidance, but first I must purge my thoughts and seek the clarity of my mission through prayer.”

The rabbi stuffed his hands inside the robe’s dark pockets and chuckled again. “I knew you weren’t from around here. Take all the time you need, my son. I’ve been praying all day to avoid the work in my office, but that is the sloth within me and unless I get through some of my paperwork tonight, tomorrow will be even a longer day. My office is through the door on the left.” With that, the Rabbi left but not before giving a reassuring squeeze to Nat’s shoulder.

Nathanael moved to the front of the heichal, waiting until the rabbi departed before lying flat on the cool marble-veined floor. Extending his arms above his head to show respect, he breathed deeply. Meditation before prayer helped cleanse the mind, and if he sought to cleanse his soul, he’d spend a few minutes putting the events of the past few days behind him. He stayed that way until he felt the path of the light wind its way through him.

Speaking scripture, Nat started his prayer. “I beg thy guidance, Almighty father. I am a mere servant of yours, wishing to fulfill thy task. I seek help in mind, body, and soul. Lend thy light.”

Nat thought he must have said the formal prayer a dozen times before he heard the soft answer of the Mistress.

“Nathanael, first born of the House of Raphael, thou asked for this task. Thou hast petitioned for this honor.”

Careful to keep his voice neutral, Nat didn’t dare raise his eyes. He felt more than saw the Mistress’s cloaked form hovering near him.

“Yes, Mistress, but they…the Cherub who is to be my heavenly wife, she is not…” Nathanael paused, his gut tightened. He didn’t dare use the word that had jumped into his mind. The Mistress favored Cherubs. To call his soul mate impure would offend and the word felt wrong, even to him.

“They have been exiled for ten years.”

“Your point, Nathanael?” asked the Mistress.

Ticked that she didn’t seem to care for their Earthly circumstances, he barely refrained from looking up. Instead, taking a calming breath as his father had taught, he continued, “I mean no disrespect.”

“None so far taken, Sere.”

He nodded. “Could there have been a mistake?”

Fire ripped through his right shoulder the minute the Mistress laid a hand on him. “Art thou questioning the Almighty?”

“No…no, I would never.” But I question you.

The Mistress removed her hand, healing light taking away the burning sting of her contact.

“I shall speak plainly. These times on Earth are troubled, Nathanael. The Almighty tests all his children. Some more than others, but there is always a reason. Isabella is your b’i?.”

She doesn’t want to be.

“What she wants is irrelevant in the greater scheme of the Almighty’s wishes. She is your heavenly wife, bound by the blessed holy laws. She is the other half of your soul.”