Revelation: Trinity Part 1 Read online

  “”Stay away from him, Ana,” Christian warned, his eyes turning serious. “He’s too dangerous.”

  “So what?” Ana snapped. “I’ve just got to watch as he uses Rose for his own amusement? To let her kiss him, let him touch her?” She was pleased when he winced.

  “What do you expect me to do, Ana?” His tone was filled with frustration.

  “Anything!” Ana exclaimed. “You’re her Guardian,” she reminded, obstinately. “Nate is Fallen. Protect her.”

  She’d made him mad. She could see it in the set of his shoulders, the way red light bled into the brilliant white of his aura, but then he exhaled, shoulders dropping in defeat, his colours fading through orange into blue.

  “I don’t like it either, you know,” he said, quietly. “Knowing that Nathaniel is – that she…” he trailed off, his sigh carrying into the quiet night air. “But you have to know Rose well enough by now. You know she’d never stop looking if he disappeared.”

  Ana watched him stare out across the car park, noticing the circles under his eyes, the weary way in which he looked out into the distance.

  “There is another way,” she said, softly.

  Christian looked over, and his gaze turned wary.

  “You could tell her the truth.”

  She waited as his colours cycled – surprise, hope, and finally, sadness whirled through him in a rainbow of light. After a long moment, he exhaled – a short breath of frustration and futility – and his head tipped back.

  “I can’t tell her,” he finally whispered, defeated.

  “Why not?” she challenged. “It’s the easiest way to –”

  “Easiest for me,” he cut in, his expression hard. “Easiest for you, perhaps.” He shook his head. “But not for Rose.”

  Ana was quiet a moment. “I don’t understand,” she admitted.

  Christian sighed. “Of course not,” he said, not unkindly. “But if you knew what she would face if she were to discover…” he frowned. “Besides,” he added, turning brisk, “it’s forbidden.”

  “It’s forbidden for an angel to fall in love with a Mortal too,” Ana reminded him softly.

  Christian’s gaze snapped up to hers.

  “And yet,” she gestured around her, “here I stand – living breathing proof that the rules can be broken.”

  “Not this one,” Christian murmured, sadness blooming around him.

  “I’ll tell her,” she decided. “There’s no rule against me –”

  “Ana,” Christian caught her arm as she turned to the gateway, intending to march back to the dorm and wake Rose up. “Please, I know you mean well, but there is so much more to this than you understand. A Ward can never know their Guardian. Rose can’t know the truth about me. It would change –”

  Christian’s head shot round to the hedge, his eyes growing wide as his colours turned amber. Ana turned to look, but saw nothing through the leafy evergreen.

  “Oh no,” he murmured, sounding horrified, as he took a step towards the gate.

  Ana frowned, wondering what was going on, until she spotted Rose standing on the other side, her blue eyes blown wide in shock. She looked back and forth between the pair of them in confusion, before horror washed over her gaze and she backed up, turning to run down the pathway.

  Christian seemed to freeze, unsure, and Ana saw the same fear in his eyes as he watched his Ward run from him – before he lurched forward and disappeared, leaving Ana to wonder what chaos she’d inadvertently brought about.

  8

  Rose stopped running as she got to the bridge, realising that they hadn’t followed her. She leaned against the railing, trying to get her breath back as she sought to make sense of what she’d just overheard.

  She hadn’t meant to go to the library. She’d decided, on leaving Ana’s room that afternoon, that chasing after her professor was a fool’s errand. But her feet had taken her there anyway, her head no match for the pull of her heart, and she’d walked along Burrell’s walk, light with expectation.

  She hadn’t expected to hear Ana’s voice as she’d reached the gates – nor the professor’s reply, and she’d stopped just the other side of the hedge, wondering why on earth they would be talking so fiercely together.

  She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop either, but as soon as she’d caught the gist of the conversation her feet had refused to move. Now, as she stood alone, looking out across the dark water, she’d wished she’d listened to her head and gone to bed.

  Questions whirled in her mind, all going unanswered as she replayed the exchange, hearing the words but unable to make sense of them – until it suddenly, catastrophically, clicked into place.

  It was impossible, absurd. Her mind shied away from the thought, but her heart beat an erratic rhythm of protest.

  Rose had spent her whole life dreaming of her Christian, of wishing that he would walk back into her world. She’d even dared to believe, for a brief, bittersweet moment, that he had, the first time she’d seen the professor at matriculation.

  But none of her dreaming had ever prepared her for the moment she’d head Professor Howard – the man who carried her books from the library, who bought her bacon rolls and knew how to sit in comfortable silence – speak of angels, of Guardians and Wards, and in the very next breath, admit that he was keeping it all from her.

  “Rose?”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice, piercing the heavy silence of the night, before slowly turning to face him. He looked afraid, she realised.

  She didn’t move, and he took a step onto the bridge, keeping his eyes fixed on hers the whole time.

  She took a shuddering breath, struggling to calm her pounding heart as he made his way towards her. Her hands clung tight to the railing as she fought the desire to run in the opposite direction.

  “Is this a joke?” she asked tersely, as he stopped – close enough to reach out and touch her, but far enough away that she could muster the courage to turn and face him. “Some kind of twisted prank you’re playing?” He looked sad before shaking his head, and Rose swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

  “Who are you?” she asked, terrified of what the answer might be; desperate for it to be true.

  For a moment, she didn’t think he would respond. She watched his jaw tighten, his hands clench into fists, saddened to realise that she recognised his inner struggle; that she knew him well enough to sense his uncertainty – just at the moment she discovered she really knew nothing about him.

  Then something in his eyes seemed to break, and he exhaled, defeated.

  “You already know.”

  Rose shook her head, seeking a way to deny him and he looked down, contemplating. When he lifted his head, his eyes were determined.

  “You had a cat called Pepper when you were little,” he began quietly, hesitantly. “You used to wrap her up in a towel and carry her around the house like a baby.” He paused, assessing her. “You tell people your favourite Disney film is Beauty and the Beast, because the princess saves the prince, but it’s really because of the love story. And the library,” he added. “You had your first kiss in a train station with a boy from your science class. You were fifteen.” His mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. “You hated it.”

  “That’s impossible,” Rose whispered, taking a step away, staring in horror as he continued to reel off random facts and thoughts of her childhood.

  “You were wearing a little blue dress on the day of the accident,” Christian finished, looking pained. “I held you as you cried, and the car I’d just pulled you from went up in flames.” He stopped, waiting.

  Rose realised she was shaking and struggled to pull herself together. She took another step back, unable to look at him, her hands rising up to her mouth as her vision blurred with tears.

  “I can’t –” she began, her voice barely a whisper as she shook her head. “I have to go…” She turned, the tears falling as she stepped away.

  “Please, don’t –”

 
; The despair in his tone made her stop at the edge of the bridge, unsure of whether she wanted to run away – or straight into his arms. The idea that he could still do that to her, even now, made her angry and she spun, wiping her tears away as she faced him.

  “Don’t what?” she spat. “Don’t run from you? Don’t be afraid of you?” She stalked up to him, eyes blazing. “You lied to me, Professor,” she accused, fierce despite her tears. “My whole life…”

  For a moment, she could hardly comprehend that she was actually having this conversation, that the moment she’d dreamed of had finally come – only it was a nightmare.

  “Every day,” she sobbed. “Every single day I asked you to come back to me. And when you do, when you finally show up after years of nothing, you lie to me.”

  Christian moved towards her, his arms outstretched, but she backed away.

  “You do not get to touch me,” she seethed, even as she watched pain bloom in his eyes. “Not now.”

  He lowered his arms, squared his shoulders. “I didn’t mean for this –” he began, but Rose cut him off.

  “Would you ever have told me?” she asked. “If I hadn’t overheard, would you have told me the truth? Or would you have kept it from me, forever?”

  He didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes, the haunting regret she found there, told her all she needed to know.

  She turned and walked away, unable to stop her feet as they picked up the pace. Soon she was running, pushing her body faster and faster; her only thought to get away from the man who stood, broken and alone on the bridge, watching her go.

  ***

  Rose sat on the edge of her bed for a long time. Despite the stillness of her body, her mind was busy; carefully replaying and processing, adding up facts and re-evaluating interactions, seeing every encounter with the professor– with fresh eyes.

  Rose knew that she should be sceptical. The fact she was even entertaining the idea that her professor was her Christian, and all that entailed, should have her committed to a hospital in an instant. But no matter how hard she tried to rationalise it, how many times she told herself she was delusional, she knew, somewhere deep inside of her soul, that it was real.

  That he was real, she realised, in a sudden, blinding moment of clarity – and that, perhaps she’d always known it.

  She considered that magic pull, intoxicating in its familiarity, and yet, just the wrong side of her conscious thought for her to connect the dots. Suddenly, the way he seemed to know her, the way she craved his company, even the way her body seemed to react around him, seemed to click into place – no longer feeling like the simple madness of an over-zealous crush.

  Now that the tears had stopped, she found she was surprisingly calm, and she welcomed it, letting the numbness sink in as she considered the long list of questions she’d compiled in her mind.

  The most obvious question seemed to be, Why? Why was he real? Did everyone have a – she stumbled over the term – a Guardian angel? Was there a whole host of beings out there, their whole existence devoted to watching our every move? She shuddered at the thought, her gaze flitting about her room.

  And, if not, then why did she have one? Was it luck of the draw? A sort of, quality control amongst the mortal population? Or was she destined to do something, create something, that meant she was worthy of protection?

  Understanding that these were questions she couldn’t answer herself, she moved on to the next issue – the realisation that, if she were to accept that angels existed, logic would assume that so, also, did God.

  Rose didn’t have much of an interest in religion. She’d been christened as a child, of course – it being the ‘done thing’ at the time – but her parents had never displayed any interest in attending church, or shown any sign of having a faith, meaning that Rose had been left to decide for herself.

  She’d often thought about it. She’d liked the idea of something bigger out there, something to make sense of the chaos that was life, and so, at the impressionable age of twelve, she’d joined the local youth club. There, she’d been taught about the joys of faith, the amazing feeling that letting God into your life would bring, and had been happy – eager, even – to embrace the Christian religion.

  She’d asked what she’d need to do and been handed a pamphlet on the ways of Christianity. She’d read it cover to cover, absorbing all she could about this exciting new prospect. The leaflet explained that all she needed to do was pray to God and He would hear her. He would listen, and her heart would be filled with joy and wonder.

  That night, she’d knelt by her bed, put her hands together, and prayed. She’d prayed for God to reach out to her, to accept her as one of his own. To come and bring with him the feeling of belonging she craved.

  She prayed for a long while, even speaking the Lord’s Prayer twice – just to be sure. Then, feeling happy that she’d started out on this new adventure, she’d tucked the pamphlet under her pillow, and fallen asleep.

  She’d repeated the action every night for the next two weeks, each night more pleading than the last, before eventually stopping and throwing the leaflet away. She stopped attending the youth club, finding other things to do on the Thursday night.

  She’d felt no joy or wonder. She’d not been given any kind of sign that He was listening or even existed, so she’d given up.

  It was about the time, Rose realised, that she’d stopped talking to her Christian. About the time when she’d begun to think of him as a silly habit she needed to break, rather than the support and comfort he’d always provided her with.

  It was silly, Rose thought as she looked back, to think that she had expected some kind of awakening. But at the age of twelve, all she’d seen was that God wasn’t interested in her. That he’d abandoned her, just like her Christian had, so long ago.

  She sighed, shaking her head, as she thought of everything her Christian had come to mean up until that point. He’d been the one constant in her life, despite never actually being physically there. She’d always felt that she was protected. Supported. That she was cared for. There had never been a time in her life when he had disappointed her – except now, she realised.

  Now, when he had done the unimaginable. When he was no longer just an image in her mind’s eye, but flesh and blood and so real. Now was the time he’d managed to fail her.

  Was that why she was so determined to be mad at him? Because, by showing up now, it proved that he really had abandoned her all those years ago?

  She shivered as the familiar feeling of heat crept down her back. Was he watching her now?

  “Christian?” she called out warily, eyes darting around the room as she looked for any sign of his whereabouts.

  “I’m here.”

  She whipped her head around at the sound of his voice, finding him leaning against her desk, as though he’d been there all along.

  She jumped up in shock, but Christian held his arms up, palms facing her, in the universal gesture of peace.

  “It’s okay,” he said gently. His eyes were careful, cautious. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Rose sat back down as the pounding in her chest slowed, realising that any doubts she’d harboured had disintegrated as quickly as he’d materialised in front of her.

  “Okay?” she asked, eyebrows high on her head. “You just appeared out of thin air.”

  A small smile flashed across his face briefly, before he sobered. “You called,” he said – as if it was nothing.

  “You were watching me.”

  “I just wanted to check you were alright,” he explained, having the decency, at least, to look embarrassed. “I wasn’t going to stay.”

  She continued to stare at him, as if seeing him for the first time, the anger she’d felt fading into fascination as she realised she could finally talk to him – finally know him.

  “You’re being very calm,” he commented, warily.

  Rose smiled thinly. “Don’t be so sure.” Slowly, she edged towards him on t
he bed. He was careful not to move as he waited for her to settle and continue. “I’m… confused,” she admitted, eventually. “I have a lot of questions.”

  Christian nodded, resigned. “I can imagine.”

  Rose decided to get the obvious out of the way first. “You’re actually here,” she stated. “I mean, physically – you’re real.”

  Christian smiled, nodded.

  Rose had the urge to reach out and touch him, just to make sure. Instead, she asked, “Why?”

  “Because I was asked to,” he said, simply.

  “By… whom?”

  “My… boss, I suppose.”

  Rose stared. “You have a boss?”

  “Of sorts.”

  Realising she didn’t really want to contemplate who that might be, she moved on.

  “Are you, I mean, you are… an angel?” She felt silly even asking.

  “Yes,” he nodded, seriously.

  Rose exhaled. “I guess I knew that.”

  Christian watched her carefully, saying nothing.

  “You had wings before…?” Her eyes traced the line of his shoulder, remembering.

  “I still do.” He leaned slightly forward. “But they don’t manifest here. What you saw that night,” his eyes met hers cautiously, “was a residual effect from my having been away from this Plane for so long.” He shrugged. “I don’t need them here.”

  She considered for a moment, before asking the question closest to her heart.

  “Why didn’t you come before?” she whispered, hating the sound of longing in her tone.

  Christian looked sad. “I wanted to,” he murmured, looking at a spot somewhere on the floor between them. “You have no idea –”

  “But you didn’t,” Rose interrupted struggling to keep the hurt out of her voice. “I used to call to you,” tears pricked behind her eyes, slipped down her face, “Beg for you to come back to me. Why did you stay away?”

  Christian shifted uncomfortably. “Please don’t cry,” he said, softly. “I don’t know what to do if you cry.”