Chapter 6

 

Drake's footsteps made little noise as he trudged through the cemetery, the ground still damp from the rain. He closed his eyes as he weaved through the tombstones, something heavy in his pocket, mind, and heart. Taking a deep breath, his lungs filled with the thick, moist air, weighing him down. His already heavy heart sunk even lower. Suddenly, Drake stopped, for he knew he had reached his destination. Opening his eyes, Drake stood before a small headstone. He crouched down and traced his fingers over the engraved writing.

Rose Hawthorne, 1307 - 1347

Darling wife and loving mother

The angels shall sing no more

Drake's fingers lingered on the last sentence, a bitter taste in his mouth. “Oh, Mother... What am I going to do with her? Truth knows the right thing yet she's so reckless. Everything is a game to her. She doesn't understand life; she doesn't know the pain that comes with it! She doesn't feel remorse or loss... I'm not jealous. I believe that pain makes stronger " it's important. Of course some people have had more than others...And now Edmund's in the picture.” Drake sighed, sitting down in the soggy grass and leaning his head against the stone slab. His voice was barely audible now. “I've come here every Sunday for the past five years and have never said a word. So the one day that I do decide to open my mouth, all I can talk about is that woman. It's rather depressing, Mother. But... I can't trust my thoughts anymore. My mind is no longer the sanctuary it once was.

     “I feel so angry all the time, frustrated and sad, and there's no one I can talk to. Except you, of course. You're the only one that's truly ever understood me.” Drake paused, the feeling of despair creeping over him, then rage. His eyes filled with tears. “Why did you have to leave me when I need you most?” he cried. “Nothing's the same without you. I need your guidance, Mother. I don't know what to do anymore. The world has become too overwhelming.” Drake's whole body shook with each sob, and he succumbed to his grief. He let the tears run freely down his face; he grabbed the wet grass and ripped it from the earth.

Drake did not, at first, notice the angel that now sat on the tombstone of his mother. Only until she bent down and laid a delicate hand on his shoulder did he begin to calm down and bring himself back from his despair. Drake was quiet once again and finally felt the pressure on his shoulder. He glanced at the glowing hand and leapt forward with the agility of a swordsman, rolling in the grass and colliding against the opposite tombstone. With a grimace, he opened his eyes up o the radiant angel. He saw her magnificent wings that arched over her shoulders and lay delicately on the stone. The feathers that made up her wings were the purest of whites, her flowing robes equally as pristine. She had long blonde hair that rippled down her back and eyes as blue as a clear sky right after a storm. This last observation made him think immediately of Truth.

     “Hello, Drake,” the angel said, her voice echoing through Drake's head.

     Drake slowly got up on his hands and knees, gazing up in awe at the unexpected visitor. He felt weak in the presence of such a beautiful, yet subtly powerful, being. “Who are you?” he whispered.

     The angel smiled. “For one who lives with an angel, I am surprised that you are so fearful of me, Drake.”

     “I am no such thing,” he snapped. “But how do you know about Truth?”

     She smiled with a slight laugh. “Besides being Cassandra's guardian angel, I am Truth's sister. My name is Hope. But I did not come down here just to introduce myself. There is something you need to know that is of the utmost importance.” Hope paused, stepping down from the tombstone and walking over to Drake. She held out her hand to him, but he did not accept it. He scramble to his feet, not looking at the angel.

     “You're Cassie's-?” he began to ask.

     “I don't have time to explain it now. My time is short here. Please just listen to what I have to say, for it concerns both your fate and Truth's.” She still stood in front of Drake, her flowing robes silently gliding against her legs by the breeze that carried over the dark cemetery. “Normally, when an angel falls from heaven, she is doomed to stay on Earth for all eternity; that is, unless she is not tempted to join Lucifer in hell. All angels know this and it has been so since the beginning of time. But Truth is one of my Father's favorite of His divine children and He hears me unlike any other. I have been able to talk to Him in such a away that He has agreed to allow Truth another chance to rejoin us above the clouds.”

     Drake's face immediately turned pale. “How-?”

     “Be still, Drake,” she consoled. “To become Holy once more and be redeemed, she must make a sacrifice. That is, Truth must change. She must be worthy to become a true angel once more.”

     “So Truth has to become a better person?” Drake asked.

     “Essentially,” said Hope.

     “I don't see how that affects me,” he mumbled.

     Hope smiled. “You have to help her achieve her goal. Your opinion is the only one that really matters to her.”

     He huffed. “Truth doesn't listen to me.”

     “You'd be surprised.”

     Drake still stood where he was, deeply thinking of all that had been said, contemplating. He was unsure whether or not the fallen angel really deserved to be saved after everything she had done to him. It was selfish, he knew, but the chance to take revenge was very tempting... Drake glanced up to an empty graveyard. He whirled around, searching for a hint of light among the dark stone. He saw nothing. “Wait!” he cried to the heavens. “When must she accomplish this purity? Something as impossible as changing the stubborn Truth must have a deadline.” Drake had come to learn the hard way that things were never as easy as they fist appeared. Hope had already showed him that. The breeze kicked up again, ruffling his reddish-brown hair and whistling in his ears. The orange and red leaves of a nearby tree floated with the air current, crackling against each other and the tombstones. He closed his eyes as he heard the softest of whispers on the breeze. Christmas, it said. Drake's stomach dropped into his legs. That left only two months. Two months to bring the immovable, lustful angel back to a Holy status. Was such a thing possible? And was Drake willing to help the one that had hurt him more than she knew?