The Seraphs Call - Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

 

Damien sat in his limousine, waiting for the mysterious caller.  A collector of information, he did not like people who were cryptic with him, and this man had tested his patience.  All the man would say on the phone, was he needed to discuss something important about Gabriel’s continuing safety.

The rap came on Damien’s window as his patience reached its limits.  He glanced up at the front seat and nodded to his bodyguard. “Let him in, Saul, make sure he is not armed or wired.”

The Swede smiled, and it twisted his thin high cheek boned features in a manic cast below the pale close-cropped blond hair.  He reminded Damien of classic pictures of Loki, the Norse god of mischief and strife. Knowing Saul to have the twisted sense of humor befitting that image, Damien almost felt sorry for the man outside. 

Saul exited the limo, and soon Damien heard the rewarding grunts of discomfort as the bodyguard frisked the guest against his will.  Three minutes passed, the door opened, and Saul shoved the man into the backseat.

    Damien stared at the man without saying a word, allowing for a measure of discomfort to build.  The man was an alcoholic, and it showed in the puffy redness around his hawk like nose. The nervous shake of his hands and the twitch of his gray eyes showed that he had not had a drink in more then a few days.  His clothes were loose and hung on his thin frame more then Saul’s frisking could have caused. Damien knew his kind well, because he had personally caused this level of substance abuse in people.

Damien casually steepled his fingers and spoke. “Who are you …What do you want…and what does this have to do with Gabriel?”

The man gulped and wilted under Damien’s rapid-fire interrogation. “I am the Doctor who treated him and his mother in the E.R. at St. Francois Memorial. All I want to do is get Gabriel to his family as quickly as possible.”

“First, those who do not lie well should not do it.”  Damien fixed the man under a wilting stare. “Second, I think you know who I am, Doctor.  If you waste my time, I will have no problem in telling Saul to put a bullet in you, and you will end up dumped in the bayou for your effort. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” came the stammering reply.

“Good, please continue and tell me everything that makes your life valuable to me.”

“You have been to Raven Genetics, you own the place.  You should know something about what Gabriel is.”

“You are a spook,” Damien shook his head smiling at the realization. “If you know me so well, you know that this car is not bugged, so there is no need to speak vaguely.”

The man’s face paled, contrasting his reddened nose against his white skin. “The people I work for want the boy under wraps.  I would rather see him with someone who cares about him.”

“And just what can you do to bring this about?” Damien raised an eyebrow.

“My agency can assist with the judicial system.  I will go with you to the judge’s chambers before the custody hearing and make sure he is placed where he can be safe.”

“You are brave. If they find out about this, they will kill you.”

“No, I am too valuable to them with what I have up here.” The man tapped his temple. “Besides, it’s not bravery to just do what’s right.”

 “More bravery then you think, Doctor.  There are things they can do to you worse then death.”

“I know,” he covered his face with his hands. “But with Gabriel they can do it to more people then just me.”

“Very well, let’s say I accept your offer.” Damien said. “What can I do for you in return?  Shall I help you disappear from their scopes?”

“No, someone has to watch them, so not yet.” The man shuddered. “Just owe me the favor.” He stretched out his hand.

Damien shook it firmly, “Deal. I owe you a favor, Dr. Holiday.”

The man exited the limousine, not even asking how Damien knew his name.

 

Within two days, they appeared in court for the custody hearing.  Lines of worry crossed Joshua’s forehead when he saw Damien, followed by a young man whom he did not recognize, walk out of the judge’s quarters just before the hearing.  Damien passed Joshua’s seat, barely acknowledging his presence and sat behind him.  The hearing started with the bailiff calling the court to order,

“The fifth district court of Louisiana is now in session.  All rise.  The Honorable Judge Morrison presiding.” 

Joshua, although familiar with courtroom procedures, felt out of place today.  This was Damien’s environment.

After receiving the documentation from the clerk, the judge announced.  “Mr. Scott.  I wish to express my condolences at your loss, but I am concerned about your ability to raise a five-year old boy.  I have reviewed all the paperwork, and your daughter and son-in-law's will requests you as the guardian for the child.  I understand you are a widower and have no surviving relatives.  My concern is that if anything happens to you, what will become of the boy?  Have you taken that into account?

Before Joshua could answer, Damien spoke up. “Your honor, if it would please the court, I am Damien DeMoir, the boy’s paternal grandfather. Mr. Scott and I have discussed the eventuality of any event that would prevent him from caring for Gabriel. I would, on such event through the proper channels, assume custody of the boy.”  Joshua couldn’t believe what he was hearing and watched as he felt Gabriel slipping through his fingers, but what Damien said next, surprised him even more.    

“Also your honor, IF it helps, I would like to point out that I have known Mr. Scott for a long time, and would testify that he is capable of raising the boy on his own.  Considering the lifestyle I lead, I would not be able to provide the boy with the quality time he deserves at this point in his life.  I hope the court will consider the extenuating circumstances surrounding these events and grant custody to Mr. Scott.  Thank you, your honor.”

“Mr. Scott,” the judge asked, “do you agree with Mr. DeMoir on these points?”

Joshua didn’t know what Damien was trying to do, but could see that he had influence over the judge.  Without hesitation, he spoke, “Yes, your honor..  Mr. DeMoir and I discussed this, and have prepared for any situation that could arise.”

“I will review this and give you my decision.  Court is in recess until 10:30”

The bang of the gavel signaled to Joshua that he had a mere thirty minutes before the judge decided Gabriel’s Fate.  Turning, he watched as Damien exited the courtroom.  Slipping past the number of people waiting for other hearings, he managed to catch Damien, gripping him by the arm. 

“Hey, just what in hell were you trying to pull in there?”

“Mr. Scott, I felt it was in Gabriel’s best interest to take what action was necessary for him to be with you.  You will be pleased when the judge returns with his decision.  Now, if you let go of my arm, I have business to attend to.” 

Joshua watched as Damien walked away followed closely by the same man he had seen in the courtroom. 

 

***

The flight from New Orleans to Iowa City was a relief for Joshua, but hard on the boy.  Gabriel, though he slept the entire flight, tossed about as if embroiled in some internal struggle. 

Joshua could still hear the judge's words echoing in his mind.  “Mr. Scott, In accordance with the child protective services act and the laws of the State of Louisiana, the court grants full custodial rights for Gabriel Michael DeMoir to you.  Should you at any time be unable to provide proper care for this child, you are hereby ordered to contact this court, as per your agreement with Mr. Damien Demoir, to remand custody of Gabriel Demoir-Scott.” 

He could not believe that it had gone so well, half expecting that Gabriel would remain in Louisiana with Damien.  Just as Damien had said, the outcome pleased him.  Now all he had to do was help Gabriel overcome the immense pain of losing both his parents.  His mourning for his daughter would have to wait. 

After landing at the airport at 10:00 p.m., Joshua carried Gabriel in his arms, and retrieved what little luggage they had.  They made the short trek to the parking lot where Joshua had left his truck, the gray dullness of its primered body standing out amidst the sea of newer vehicles.

To Joshua, material things had never been important, only recognizing items for their usefulness, rather than their monetary value.  His outward appearance would have left a person assuming he was poor, dressing in faded overalls, driving an old beat-up pickup, but those same appearances were deceiving.  Joshua was a man who knew the value of a dollar. 

Silence filled the hour-long drive, Joshua holding Gabriel close to his side as he slept, careful not to disturb him.  He barely knew how he was going to father the boy, not having any experience with raising a child.  His wife Margaret had raised Sarah, because when they first married he was a stockbroker, a profession that left little time for family.  Family had not been as important to him as it should have been.  He had never really known what it was like to have one. 

Joshua had not been close to his parents.  Even as a boy, he had wanted nothing more then to leave the family farm in Independence Iowa.  His marriage came close to failure because of his career.  Yes, he had been successful, but in the process had nearly sacrificed everything that was precious to him. 

Then opportunity came to him with the death of his father.  He returned home to take over the family farm, the timely move saving both him and his family. Margaret had welcomed the new surroundings, never wanting to raise their daughter in the hustle and bustle of New York City.  Joshua had seen his father toil, many years barely able to scratch a bare living in the dirt, but for his family he made the farm prosperous again. 

Now it seemed the cycle was repeating itself; the changes brought to life by the death of a loved one.  The same thing he had seen happening to Jean Phillipe and Sarah during their separation. He had lost his wife, and now his daughter, and he’d be damned if he’d lose his grandson too.

At the farmhouse outside the city limits, Joshua carried the sleeping boy up the long flight of stairs to his bedroom, not wanting the boy to have to sleep alone after all he’d been through. 

 

DEC 24, 2033

A racket woke Joshua from his sleep.  It sounded like dishes clattering together, perhaps breaking.  It was a good distance to the next farm, so a burglar might be a possibility.  He yawned and stretched himself out of bed.  What kind off moron would be desperate enough to come all the way out here though?  And of all nights, Christmas Eve.  The most valuable possessions he had in the farmhouse where the books in his library.

His first thought was of Gabriel.  He pushed the door open and walked into the hallway.  The door hung open to Gabriel’s room and for a silent eternity, his dread mounted.  By the dim glow of the night-light, he could see the boy’s bed was empty.

There was another crash and a high-pitched startled yelp.  That was Gabriel’s voice.  Joshua’s face was white and trembling as he snatched the baseball bat from the floor of the boy’s room.  If someone’s hurting Gabriel, I’ll kill the son of a b***h.  Damn it all to hell, the anger fueled by the fear drove him on. 

He could hear a man’s voice barely audible through the oak floorboards. 

Nobody breaks into my house. 

He bounded down the stairs, the supports screaming in protest from the onslaught of his three hundred plus pounds.  The echoes resounded through the house like the rushing wind of a tornado.  

“All right you son of a b***h” he yelled, as he held the bat like a mighty club, ready to bash in whoever’s head might happen to appear. “You better come out of there right now, cause if I have to come in there, you’ll be dead and I’ll be sorry.”

Joshua waited and watched as the doors to the library slid open, the narrow column of escaping light increasing in size.  He was ready to spring on the intruder when he saw Gabriel’s head pop through the door. 

“Grandpa, what are you doing up?” The boy said with a smile, which turned to a look of surprise when he saw Joshua’s face and the baseball bat raised high.

 Joshua grabbed Gabriel by the arm, and pulled him through the narrow space, the momentum carrying the boy to the floor behind him.  He shoved the mighty oak door to its stops, rushing through. 

A man sat in the corner, a silent specter. In the brightness of the library, he took in every trace of shadow that remained and wore them like a cloak about him.  His features were an emotionless mask even as the farmer charged. 

“No Grandpa.  Don’t hurt him!” Gabriel yelled through tears.  “He’s my friend.”

The almost silent reply from the corner was a greater roar than the commotion Joshua had caused, “Ahhh, saved by the grace of a child.” 

Joshua recognized the voice and shuddered to halt, close enough for Damien to feel the heat of the farmer’s barely bridled rage.  “What in the hell...”

“Calm yourself Mr. Scott; we could hear the stampeding herd miles away.  I was discussing Prince Machiavelli’s influences on Robespierre policies in the French Revolution with young Gabriel...he brought up an interesting point before we were so rudely  interrupted.”

“Why I ought to...”

“I see your rage has left you unable to speak in complete sentences.”

“You son of a b***h”

“Tsk tsk, not a good example to set in front of the boy, Joshua.  Come over here Gabriel.  We have a conversation to finish.”

Joshua had never been so ignored in his entire life.  He strangled the impulse to break Damien’s neck with his bare hands, choking on the bitter bile of an anger tinged with jealousy, as he watched Gabriel climb onto the Cajun’s lap.  He felt the tide of his anger ebb, as the boy looked into his grandfather’s eyes, questing for approval.

“With your approval of course...Mr. Scott.”  Damien sneered, the sarcasm dripping like barbs into Joshua’s skin.

“Son, it’s almost three in the morning.  I think you better run along to bed.”  Joshua patted Gabriel on the head. 

“But Grandpa can’t I stay up for a little while longer and talk to Angel.”  The boy had down pat, the quivering look that Joshua remembered so much from his daughter when she was growing up. 

You look so much like Sarah. Joshua smiled and shook his head. “No it's well past your bedtime, boy, run along.  Angel and I have a few things to discuss.”  Joshua tried to hide his spite for the man sitting across the room from him.

Gabriel clambered down from Damien’s lap.  He walked towards the door, his head hung low, looking back once with pleading eyes, with hopes that Joshua would change his mind. He stopped at the door and turned towards them before he disappeared into the shadows of the house.  “Good night Grandpa...good night Angel and Merry Christmas.”

Joshua responded with his usual “good night son,” and felt a twinge like a blade in his spine as he watched Gabriel smile when Damien said, “Good night Gabriel...we’ll talk again soon.”

He whirled to face the Dark Cajun after Gabriel had left, but the man was gone, the shuttering of the library’s French doors, the only sign to mark the man’s passage.

“S**t...”  Joshua muttered as he bolted through the doors, running to the edge of the veranda that surrounded the farmhouse.  He gripped the oak railing in frustration, almost gouging it with his fingers as he watched the sleek ebony sheen of the stretch limo, rolling from the drive.

 

Christmas Day -2033

Joshua lay awake, the moonlight reflecting off his dead wife’s jewelry box, the sparkles appearing as stars on the bedroom ceiling. 

Margaret, I sure do wish you were here.  I just hope I’m doing right by the boy.  He knew she couldn’t hear him talking, but it calmed his nerves when he did.  He had lost his wife, his daughter, and with tonight’s event, felt Gabriel start to slip away. 

He had done his best to shield Gabriel from any bad influences in his life, but the irony struck him like a steel hammer.  The man, whom he had wanted to keep Gabriel from the most had managed to, with obvious ease, slither between the bonds he was trying to build.  The man was like a rust spot on newly wrought steel, if not contained, would grow and destroy the fiber of the forged metal.  Joshua knew what he must do.

 

The warmth of the morning sun shining through the window made Gabriel shift, squirming to the foot of the bed to capture the heat on as much of his little body as he could.  He gazed out the window; the freshly fallen snow covered everything.  The virgin whiteness encased the crudest hovel on the farm, making every outbuilding, every shack; seem like a crystalline palace in the sparkling span of a magical city. 

He loved his new home, loved everything about it, especially the library, but after last night, he wasn’t sure if Grandpa would let him in there again.  Each night, he had waited for Grandpa to go to sleep, slipped out of bed, and crept to the library, careful not to make a sound.  He could not get enough of the books, imagining all the beautiful pictures the words painted on the easel of his mind.  Many days, he read until the rooster crowed, sneaking back upstairs before the sun peeked its eyes into the old man’s room.  Now it appeared his treasured nightly forays were at an end.

 Gabriel spied out the hall, checking to make sure his grandfather was nowhere near his room.  The satisfying noise of dishes clattering in the kitchen welcomed his ears, telling him his Grandpa was busy fixing breakfast for the two of them.  He pulled the draping cover off his bed, revealing the battered steamer trunk that Angel had helped him hide there. 

His books, computer, and MP3 player--it was with an almost ceremonial reverence that he opened it, choosing one paperback from the host of many.  All of the books were still in perfect condition; he never abused them, curled the covers, nor did so much as bend the spine just a little while he was reading.  His mother had instilled that in him, knowledge as an almost sacred thing.  His mother...he almost couldn’t remember her face.  The books were a half-frustrated attempt to hold onto all he had left of her.

Gabriel pulled on his coveralls, hiding the book in the large front pocket.  His grandfather did not like Angel, he could tell.  He somehow doubted the possibility, but he was not going to chance the old man taking away what Angel had given back to him.

Clambering down the stairs, the persistent lingering of his secret dulling the excitement of a new day, he entered the kitchen just as Joshua was putting his plate on the table. 

“Merry Christmas, Gabriel,” Joshua said, the smile crossing his face.

“Merry Christmas, Grandpa,” Gabriel replied, rushing to the old man. 

Joshua held out his arms, caught him, and hugged him tightly.  The little boy’s arms wrapped around the large man’s neck, returning the loving embrace.

“I wasn’t sure whether you’d be awake this early son, as late as you were up last night.” His grandfather’s overalls and shirt hung rumpled around his big frame, and he had not bothered to scrape his graying whiskers off this morning. 

“I’m not tired Grandpa” the boy quipped, pulling his seat up to the table. 

“That’s good,” Joshua said, letting the Gabriel down to the floor, “Now go sit down and eat up, boy.”

Gabriel ran to the table and climbed onto the old wooden chair, feet dangling more then a foot from the floor.  He grabbed the fork, his arms barely reaching over the surface of the huge oak table, and dug into the small stack of syrup soaked pancakes.  The buttery maple dripped from his chin, and he wiped it off with a quick whisk of his sleeve.  He glanced at his grandfather. 

Joshua had turned around to make his own breakfast, and was humming as the batter sizzled in the skillet. 

Gabriel took the opportunity to pull his book out from its hiding place.  He proceeded to eat with one hand while he turned the pages with the other, the book balanced on his lap just under the shadow’s edge of the table.

“What are you doing Gabriel?” 

At the sound of Joshua’s voice, Gabriel tried to hide the book beneath the table and looked up, a terrified expression crossing his face when he saw his Grandfather standing over him.  He tried to say something but the words choked.

“I asked you a question boy...this is not an interrogation so you don’t have to give me that look.”  Joshua’s voice rumbled.

Gabriel swallowed hard, holding the book protectively to his chest.  “I was just looking at the words in this book...please don’t...”

“Calm down, I’m not going to take it away from you...can you read Gabriel?”  Joshua’s curiosity stirred.  He had been watching Gabriel flipping the pages of the book, scanning through twenty pages in the five minutes it had taken the old man to make his own breakfast.

“Yes Grandpa, don’t be mad...”

“Why would I be angry with you for that?  What are you reading son?”  Joshua placed a comforting hand on Gabriel’s shoulder.

“Ulysses...”

“Mythology is it?”

“No Grandpa, James Joyce’s Ulysses”

Joshua was speechless.  That his grandson could understand something with the complexity and depth of this certain book was almost beyond his grasp.  Yet there the five-year-old was, reading something that stumped many college professors.

“Grandpa...what’s wrong?”  Gabriel asked, his voice still querulous with a faint tinge of fear.

“Gabriel...when that man that called himself Angel, said you were discussing Machiavelli and Robespierre...you were...weren’t you??...”

“Yes Grandpa, but he was all wrong...Machiavelli felt the peasantry needed to ruled with an iron hand, while Robespierre started the revolution under the pretense of giving the French their well-deserved freedom...  Their harsh methods were the same, but their goals different.”  The boy smiled brightly at his grandfather, happy to have a question he could get right.

Joshua balked at the immensity of the boy’s knowledge.  If his intellect had carried him to this height, what else was he hiding in that five-year-old mind?  “When did you learn to read Gabriel?”

“Mamma started teaching me when I was two.”

“She did what...?”

“I liked reading Tolkien’s earlier works best......he’s such a good writer.”

“If I had known...Gabriel have you had any school?”

“No...Mamma said I was too little...she would get me any book I wanted, and teach me as best she could, but there was no school.”

“Math...Science...History?”

Gabriel nodded enthusiastically.  “Science.  I liked it the best...mamma bought me a computer just before she died...”

They finished breakfast in silence, Joshua not knowing how to handle talking to the boy further.  It annoyed him.  He had never felt powerless to deal with something in his entire life. 

When it came time to open the presents under the tree, Gabriel dissolved into boyish enthusiasm, a little child’s emotions, something Joshua knew, familiar ground.  He watched and smiled as the red headed blur tore through his presents playing with one for a second, then tossing it aside and ripping into the next brightly foiled package.

One single package sat beneath the tree, nestled in the crook behind the rest of the presents.  The shining gold of its wrap was all that called attention to its presence.  Embossed on the foil a stylized image of a Seraph, grim and challenging, held a flaming sword at length, like a sentinel against death.  With a surgeon’s precision, Gabriel removed the tape holding the edges in places; careful not to tear or crease the image like it was a precious artifact.  A look of apprehension spread across Joshua’s face as he read the words encircling the icon. 

Felicia Nativi.  The search for knowledge was the fall of man, achieving truth, his salvation.

The old man’s blood ran cold.  Who would send a five-year-old boy such a greeting for Christmas?  Only Damien would be so religiously cold.

Gabriel gasped in astonishment as he opened the box.  A blue leather book, with a gilded medallion in the emblem of the Seraph slipped from the box.  He read the note inscribed in the book aloud in solemn drawn tones.  “This is to fill with your search for that truth, Gabriel.  Fondest wishes Angel.”  Excited, he lifted the book and pranced over to Joshua.  “Grandpa, Angel gave me my own book to write in.”  He placed it tenderly in his grandfather’s hands, showing this gift with more pride then any present that Joshua could give him.

Sure enough, Joshua thought, Damien had given the boy a diary each page chased with gold lines and the defiant Seraph.  There was a matching pen and a red silk ribbon for the page marker.  The old man flipped through the pages admiring the strength of craftsmanship that shone through the gloss and sheen.  Maybe he was careless, or maybe it was a cruel joke of destiny that caused the weighted ribbon to slip from the pages to his lap. 

Joshua picked it up noticing a curious circular metal band braided into the ribbon.  The surface seemed old and disused, tarnished to an antiquity before its time.  He examined the metal, flipping it over in his hand.  It had once been silver that much he could tell.  The familiar crown of a once noble Irish wedding band stared at him as he rolled it to the full circumference.  He caught his breath; the tarnish was as if the wearer’s blood still stained it.  It was Sarah’s wedding ring.

They both sat looking at each for the longest moment, not daring to breathe if they could.  An uneasy calm settled over them, before the storm on whose thunderous light, flashed the grim countenance of that cruel seraph.

 

Reviews

[Hans von Lieven]

Things are still proceeding well. Perhaps Joshua only discovering now that Gabriel can read is stretching credibility a little. Surprise about what the child is reading and his competency at it yes, by all means. The boy had been with Joshua a while by then he should have known the kid can read. Also the appearance of the steamer trunk and the secrecy surrounding it is a bit strange and out of character.

Joshua knew the child when his mother was still alive, he should have known all these things. Kids don't shut up when they have a computer to play with, they tell everybody. Little things I know, I guess I am just being picky.

Still a very good story though. moving on to the next chapter.

Hans von Lieven