The Forsaken(49)

Sighing heavily, she decided she’d had enough of that. She took a spiritual candle, and lit it. Izzy disrobed fast, to pull on a light white robe. Feeling purified, she went to her knees, stretched out her arms above her head, and began to hum. Only when she’d centered herself, her breathing deep and even, did she launch into a heavenly chant, opening her soul, praying for the first time for forgiveness.

“Isabella, thou may rise.”

At first Izzy wasn’t sure she’d heard true. When she turned her head and saw the Mistress’s form hovering, fully cloaked, looking like she had years ago, Izzy was stunned.

“Thou may rise, my daughter. I am pleased by what I see in your heart.”

Izzy did as instructed. The Mistress moved over toward Izzy’s bed and then proceeded to sit on it. A number of reactions sailed through Izzy—dismay, surprise, and a speck of fear.

“Thy time has been served well and now we have much to discuss,” said the Mistress.

Turning to face the Mistress, Izzy made sure to keep her head bowed and her hands folded in prayer. “I am yours to do with.” Speaking in angel speak, reciting the proper etiquette of words felt wrong to Izzy. She did it anyway.

The Mistress took Izzy’s folded hands in her gloved ones. An electrical jolt traveled through Izzy. “It pleases me greatly you have not forgotten your Cherub traditions, my daughter.”

Izzy tried not to grimace. She felt no more the Mistress’s daughter than an angel.

“Tell me, how fare my Cherubs these last years in exile?”

Izzy’s head instantly snapped up to look up. “You knew?” Izzy blurted out the question without thought.

“Do not disappoint me with insular questions. I know all. Heed that,” she admonished.

Izzy bowed her head. “Of course, Mistress. I meant no disrespect. We have survived.” Izzy did not wish to disclose anything else. What’s the point, if she’s omniscient and all?

“I had no doubt you would. Now about your Seraphim. The call is yours. Should I heed his prayer, or do you wish to make him suffer more?” asked the Mistress, patting the spot next to her on the bed, inviting Izzy to sit.

So much for keeping with tradition. Normally, during an audience with the Mistress, the Cherub always knelt to show respect. Izzy moved to sit down next to her, feeling awkward. “I am honored you think me wise enough to answer for Nathanael.”

“He keeps to the decorum of his faith and expects a lot of you, Isabella. As he should. You are Cherub born.”

Am I still? Izzy banked that thought. She nodded. “He seeks to deliver a message to you for the Almighty.”

The Mistress rose in one fluid movement from the bed to hover once again in front of Izzy. “I believe you are the messenger in this case. What else does your Seraphim seek?”

Part of Izzy didn’t want to admit what he wanted, but it felt like the Mistress saw into her heart and head. Izzy looked deeply at the Mistress, trying to see a hint of eyes behind the black-mesh veil that covered her face. The color and fine netting of the veil made that impossible. Taking a deep breath, she answered. “He seeks your permission for the b’i? ceremony.”

“Interesting. I had wondered if he’d be Sera enough to push his demands. I take it he has?

Izzy knew the Mistress knew he had been. She felt heat surface along her cheeks.

“My daughter, I am most pleased he has. He is your soul mate. You are the heavenly host. Your charge of existence solely to usher in the next generation.”

Izzy fought not to roll her eyes. By the path of the holy light, I am not ready for that. “I beg thee, Mistress, find him another.” Izzy rushed the words out fearful she’d let them go unsaid.

“What?” A gasp escaped the Mistress, making Izzy tremble. “He displeases you?”

“No,” said Izzy.

“He does not desire you?”

A vivid picture of their make-out session sailed through Izzy. “No,” said Izzy softly.

“Then you are perfectly matched. Come, this topic is over. I would have you show me what the Dark Angel’s son delivered unto you.”

Holy mother of light, she does not know everything. Immediately, Izzy tried to make her mind blank.

“My child, if I knew all, I would not ask for you to show me. Come, give me your hand. I warn you now—hand-to-hand contact, flesh to my flesh, will hurt. This I must ask of you, my daughter.”

It wasn’t a question and Izzy knew it wasn’t in her to refuse. With awe, Izzy watched her remove a black glove. Expecting flesh, a golden glow outlined like a hand startled her.

“Come, my daughter. You must willingly touch my flesh. The pain will be much but you have not disappointed me.”

That, more than anything, marshaled Izzy’s thought. She smiled, feeling her heart sore with the Mistress’s words. I did not disappoint her. She thought back to what had happened to her. My wings were cruelly hacked off. There are protruding bones in my back that are constant reminders I’ve been mutilated, but I did not displease the Mistress. Somehow, that made her feel better, and Izzy didn’t like that. The injustice she felt for what had happened to her and her fellow Cherubs had been something she’d latched onto for years. Izzy wasn’t ready to let it go.

*

Nathanael felt his lids grow heavy. He knew he’d dozed off and on for the past days. In the dark of the basement, he’d lost count of the days, but praying for a visit from the Mistress was always hard work. A knock on the door interrupted the litany of prayers that automatically flew from his mouth.