The Forsaken(14)
“She’s not like a Cherub,” blurted Nathanael. Not at all the type of Cherub I want or desire.
“You dare say one of my Cherub’s hearts is not pure? Her soul not a beacon to thy own? Thou must look unto thyself, Nathanael. Perfection is a holy word we all ascribe to attain. What is best for us might be the flaws we find together to mend us whole. This is thy task. This is Isabella’s task. My daughter is more Cherub than thee have yet discovered. Love her like you were meant. Accept her for who she is, not some fanciful notion you have been taught. Accept my forgiveness and go forth with a blessed soul.”
The minute the Mistress departed, the cold of the empty synagogue settled around him like a mantle. Stiffly he moved from his prone position to stand, bowing four times—once to the east, south, north, and west, as was angel custom when leaving the Prayer House.
Knocking gently on the rabbi’s door, Nathanael waited a heartbeat to be welcomed into his sanctuary.
“Ah, my son, did praying help?”
Sort of. Nat took the offered chair. “Yes, thank you.”
“Woman trouble, right? By the way—we never did introduce ourselves. I am the rabbi here, but feel free to call me Joe.”
“Joe?”
“As in your average Joe, but if you like, Joseph.”
Nat smiled. “I am Nathanael…” He paused, almost launching into his formal title, knowing that would open a floodgate of questions. “Feel free to call me Nat.”
“Well, Nat, am I right? Woman troubles?”
Nat nodded.
Joe took a sip of what had to be cold coffee. He leaned back in his wooden chair and assessed Nat. “Normally I’d launch into a talk about youth, lust, and giving it time, but I sense the seriousness in you. Why don’t you explain? Maybe I can offer some sage advice.” He grinned as he stroked his long beard thoughtfully.
“The woman I am supposed to be with isn’t at all like I thought.”
“Ah, an arranged marriage we are talking about? Had one of those myself, so I can sympathize. But let me tell you my story. Maybe that will help.”
Nat settled into his chair, enjoying the rumbling, soft cadence of Joe’s tale. The wisdom he learned from the rabbi’s story touched him greatly, even more so than the Mistress’s forgiveness or tangled words of wisdom.
Listening to Joe talk, he tried to imagine how Isabella must have felt—exiled from her home for so long, forced to adapt to mankind’s culture with the added burden of leading her fellow Cherub sisters. She had courage. Then he remembered her sheer determination, her bravery facing down the demons in the alley, and something sparked to life within him.
A vision of her softly singing a healing chant to soothe the male, Gareth, also stole through him. Doing only what she’d been taught, he realized. Cherubs healed with their voices and Gareth needed mending. Shocked to discover a male in her sanctuary, Nathanael had invaded the man’s mind, instantly soaking up his sorrow and the guilt eating away at his soul. The death of his fellow warriors was a plague scourging through all of him. He’d taken to alcohol to ease the burden of living. Isabella offered him comfort through her healing voice and while Nat didn’t like her hands-on approach with Gareth, he did admire her strength of character. She might not dress like a Cherub but inside, she was that and more: warrior, leader, healer, and mother. She embodied unique Cherub qualities; some he liked and some he found unsettling, but that didn’t mean he found her lacking.
But no way would his future wife bear arms. She must give up this life. That wasn’t up for negotiation. If need be, he’d bind her to him, without her consent. The notion made bile rise in his throat. He had vowed never to do such a thing, having promised his own Cherub mother he wouldn’t, after discovering how his father had treated her. His mother accepted her position with quiet dignity but Nat knew her loneliness. His father only called for her when the breeding necessitated. The holy binding ensured neither could take another. That was the Cherub-Seraphim way.
Once the blessed binding words were said, they could only have sex with each other. Nathanael wouldn’t be able to relieve his physical ache with any other. The reason for joining was to produce heavenly offspring. He’d become a Sera—a full-fledged Seraphim warrior, and move up the ranks to lead a heavenly army. He’d slay the dark stain of evil that continued to threaten the heavenly realm, one that more and more knocked with a loud bang on the heavenly gates.
His mother always said: live a life with purpose to serve the greater good and the Almighty’s path of light. To become all she wanted, he would have to do something she would hate.
Chapter Five
Izzy liked to boldly display some of her flesh when singing in the band. Why? Because it went totally beyond what she’d been taught. While they didn’t wear some of the more tantalizing clothing a lot of teens did, some in the band did wear short skirts and most, like her, wore halter tops on stage. If her own mother could have seen her, she’d have certainly drop dead. Thanks to the demons and the last heavenly war, she didn’t worry about that. Her mother, like Meredith’s, had been killed trying to save her and the other Cherubs clustered together for evening prayer. Izzy had vowed that day, watching her mother use her body as a shield to save her, she would learn to fight. No one else would ever sacrifice their life for her.
She looked over at Anya, who had the unique distinction of being the youngest Cherub kicked out of the heavens. Forced out at the tender age of sixteen, like the rest of them, she hadn’t aged a day in a decade. Showcasing flesh was a rebellious act and went against everything they had been taught as Cherubs. But that was why they did it.