29

~Ali~

Naturally, I suffer the beginnings of another night of sleep deprivation as a result of the numerous stressful events currently consuming my life. The loneliness I felt throughout the night only aided my despondency, scenarios of my cessation consuming me with no one to take the burden away.

The worst part is that I know Ethan can hear my thoughts as I lay here, feeling what I feel. And he remains away, just an affirmation of his earlier words, as if I needed any more validation.

Where I used to find solace in his perpetual company now just irks me, like a stain on my own mind. So I imagine a wall. The tallest, strongest, most indestructible wall I can fathom. I build it high, higher than any angel can fly, and wide, further than any holy creature can travel. And for a moment, as I erect this wall in my mind, an alien emptiness transpires as I sever my telepathic connection from him. It is both a relief and chilling.

I feel him prodding and pounding, tearing at my wall, relentless in his destruction. He punches a hole through the bricks and a pinprick of his heartache pierces my mind. No, not heartache, I remind myself. He doesn't care, he just pities you. Each brick he pulls away, I replace with two more, fortifying my independence from him and his hollow feelings.

I leave my wall, strong and reinforced in my imagination and disappear somewhere into the dark corners of my thoughts. A quiet place where nobody can humiliate me further. I open my eyes again, having lost their lacklustre and wonder how I ever found this earth beautiful.

The sky is a bland stretch of onyx, the stars unnecessarily cluttering the sky. Gross, I think as the thick grass irritates my skin, poking at my face and threading into my hair. The moon is a cold, hard rock in the night and the breeze carries the chill of catastrophe.

Yet, between the self-pity, bitterness and pessimism, sleep does come. But it is not soundless.

In my dreams it is dark. Black. But darker than just black. It takes me a moment to determine whether my eyes are open or closed and when I do, I hold a hand in front of my face, unable to see any hint of it. I am certain that if I lit a torch, the photons would be swallowed whole.

But there is also something warm in my dream. Not in the outside world, because honestly the temperatures are dropping there, but the inside - inside me. A hearth begins to glow in my stomach and together the darkness and I mumble, "Redde perditum angelus." I can hear the words tumbling from my mouth, but I don't feel my lips moving.

Together, the presence and I smile. Together, we unlock the fire inside my body and a yellow light explodes from my pores. My body tingles from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes until I feel like I've plugged a fork into an electrical socket.

I become a beacon, and alone amidst a storm, I burn.

My body clenches and I leap back into consciousness. Sweat beads across my upper lip and I shiver in the cool air. I take a moment to sieve through my murky surroundings, remembering where I am as I press a hand over my racing heart.

"Ali?" Jack calls worriedly from the shadows. From the bright moonlight, I see him sitting alone in the grass, The Book of Angels sitting before him. I realise he has been talking to The Book again. Unsuccessfully, I note.

"Sorry, Jack," I mutter, rubbing a clammy palm over my face. "No need to worry about me." Unable to help myself, I quietly search for Ethan, unsure about how I feel when I don't see him.

Jack recognises what I am doing and offers to explain. "Ethan took the first watch tonight. Although he was supposed to be back a couple of hours ago."

An uncomfortable silence hangs between us and I have the unsettling impression that I am to blame. I take a stand, clearing my throat.

"Mind if I take a seat?" I point to an empty patch of grass opposite him. He shrugs and I take that as a yes. "I'm sorry you don't like me," I blurt, tiredness clouding my judgement. My mind gasps but my body doesn't react. It has been said, so there is no taking it back now, even if I did meant it. Better to start being honest with myself while I am still around.

He blows out a big breath, suddenly sheepish. Whether it is the perfect night sky above us or the unlikely chance that we find ourselves alone for the first time, Jack shows a slither of genuine honesty towards me. It sobers me up some.

"Ahh, don't say that. I like you plenty, Ali," he responds. "It's not you that I don't like - it is Ethan's reaction to you. Ethan and I have been buddies for a long time. Longer than your head can even comprehend. And I know him better than he knows himself. He doesn't just fall for girls, not how mortals do with your ever changing tastes in partners. We actually can't just fall for girls." Jack sighs, as if disclosing this information is too big of a task to take on. But he has started so he doesn't stop.

"I have seen the way you two look at each other - a dangerous game, so I am going to say some things that are for your own good because really, I do care, otherwise I wouldn't be a Guardian - we don't owe you anything more than protection." I flinch, knowing this is just the start. I ready myself for the next brutal blow. "I will tell you something else, this love you have conjured in your head for Ethan is nothing but a childish idealism. Ethan will never love you. He will never love you because he loves another angel. He always has and he always will." And there it is, the winning hit. I am physically winded, ready to puke at his candidness. Sensing my imminent hysteria, Jack leans closer, clasping my hand in his and squeezing reassuringly. "Have you ever heard of a soul mate, Ali?"

I swallow down the bile surely rising up my throat so I can speak up. "Sure I have. But I'm starting to think it's all just a hoax."

"Wrong. Angels get a soulmate." Jack's eyes suddenly spark to life, vivid with his passion. "It's the most wonderful thing the heavens can give us. It is a reward: if we serve our duty well, The Throne creates our soul mate. I found mine a couple of millennia ago. If she isn't the most beautiful of all God's creatures, then I don't know what is. What I am getting at here, is that Ethan has already found his soulmate, Ali. Because he is Prince, they were created together."

My emotions are sterile. I was expecting a scream, a tantrum, pulling apart the blades of grass and hammering my fist into the earth, but I remain seated, breathing normal enough for the most part, and it surprises me. Surprises Jack, too, judging by his wince.

Shock. I am hearing words, but they are not really making comprehensible sense like they should be. In my stunned silence, Jack continues talking and I pretend I can't hear the sound of my heart collapsing.

"But they lost each other. Ali, you have no idea what it does to someone when their mate is taken. If my Seraphina was ever -" Jack cuts off abruptly as if even just the slightest thought physically wounded him.

"Taken?"

"Lucifer." Jack spits the name vehemently.

"Satan?" I stutter.

"Precisely. That arrogant scum bag thought he could run the Heavens better than The Throne. Pfft! So he challenged The Throne, went against his creator. I don't have it in me to relive all the horrors that followed, but Prince Ethan's mate, Angelina - Princess of the Heavens - was caught in the cross fire." A solitary tear rolls down Jack's face, catching the moonlight. "She was used as leverage but got killed anyway. Lucifer shall never be forgiven for taking our Princess and Ethan will never heal from that magnitude of loss."

"I'm so sorry." The meagre words sound so insufficient when spoken out loud that I suddenly wish I said nothing at all.

"It was a long time ago," he whispers shakily, indicating that not even he is over her death. "But I thought you should finally know the truth. Maybe it was a discussion we should have had a long time ago."

We are quiet again. But this silence is not uncomfortable. It is remembering and processing and accepting.

A few minutes lap by and Jack continues futilely spouting off phrases. I sit opposite him feeling utterly useless. A strange tongue tumbles from his mouth, syllables and accents unknown to the modern world.

"What language was that?"

"Galacian." Jack mumbles another variation of the phrase. "I've tried everything I can think of in English. All I can imagine now is that He didn't set the code in our language." He huffs, frustrated.

Not in our language, I tease in my mind, my dreams coming to the forefront of my mind. Impossible!

"Jack, can I try something?" I wonder, leaning closer. Jack suddenly looks nervous and he pulls The Book back towards him.

"Sure, but remember you can't touch The Book." My hands pause midair and I retract them guiltily.

"Right, yes. Of course." I sit back, clutching handfuls of grass to keep my fingers from reaching out.

"What's going on, Ali?" Jack looks nervous again, worried even, as he stares at me across the night. Shyly, I tuck I strand of hair behind my ear, curling in on myself.

"You'll never believe me if I told you," I admit quietly.

"Why don't you give me a try?" Still uneasy in his body language, he tries to soften this with his gentle tone. I look at him from behind hooded eyes and decide that no great event of history has ever occurred without a touch of madness.

"This is going to sound preposterous, but I think..." I trail off, rapidly thinking through my thought process to make sure this could actually make sense, "I think I know how to open The Book." Jack's expression is a comical combination of hope, disbelief and confusion. I continue to explain myself before he can stop me. "I have been having this reoccurring dream, one that I have never had before with words and feelings that I have never experienced. To open The Book, I know what to say, but it's more than that - I think I need to touch it."

Jack jumps to a stand, one hand on The Book, the other held out towards me. "Whoa, let's slow down for a second. You want to touch the book?" He looks like I have just threatened his soulmate.

"I think I need to."

His face twists uncomfortably, almost unable to fathom what I am saying. "But putting that lunacy aside, you think you know how to open The Book of Angels?"

"I know it sounds impossible," I rush.

"Because it is impossible, Ali! Your carelessness could cost us all of our lives!" He is near shouting, covering his fear with anger. His lack of faith in me only shows their hypocrisy - I left my entire life to follow this mission through - I put my life in their hands multiple times - and Jack can't even take my suggestion seriously when this could potentially rectify all the wrong doings of the Fallen.

Sensing the harshness of his words, Jack settles somewhat. "Ali, I'm sorry. That was highly inappropriate of me. You just shocked me for a moment." He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, taking a deep, cooling breath. "We are doing this together, so tell me, what did you hear in your dreams?"

Satisfied Jack will at least hear what I have to say, I perk up. "There was this presence with me in my dreams, this voice. The words it said, they are not in English. I don't know what language it is, but it sounds old. It would repeat the phrase 'redde perditum angelus.'"

Jack pales like he has just seen his own soul leave his body before colour rushes back into his complexion, brighter and warmer than before.

"Of course!" Jack scolds himself. "How could I be so dim sighted?"

"So the words make sense to you?" I clarify, excitement bubbling through my bones at Jack's hopefulness.

"Yes! It is Latin," he scrambles. "It translates to 'return the lost angel'! After Angelina's death, The Throne felt the need to write The Book of Angels to catalogue which angels survived and which had fallen." Emotion clogs his throat and it takes him a moment to work through it. "Ali, you're a genius!" He rushes forwards and pulls me into a quick, celebratory embrace.

"Well, go on then angel-boy," I tease, a grin plastered onto my face. "Give it a crack."

Jack smiles back and looks lovingly to Jaz's sleeping frame not too far away. He takes in a deep breath and seems to savour the moment before he whispers the unbinding words.

"Redde perditum angelus." The words roll from his mouth in a way my stiff tongue could never accomplish. The phrase sails through the air, filling the space around us and my breath hitches in keen anticipation. Seconds saunter by and Jack prods the casing. It remains locked.

"Redde perditum angelus!" He repeats, louder, gripping the book in two large hands. "Redde perditum angelus!" He says again, notes of desperation becoming more and more apparent. "Redde perditum angelus. Redde perditum angelus. Redde perditum angelus..." Shame washes over me as I feel responsible for the failure. Sensing this, Jack calms his heavy breaths and attempts to reassure me, but the hollowness in his voice nearly cracks me.

"It's not your fault, Ali. I really thought this was our break through. I shouldn't have gotten our hopes up like that, it was wrong of me."

Trying for one last attempt at salvation, I say, "Let me try the words maybe?" Jack looks skeptical but holds The Book out away from the protection of his chest.

I clear my throat, suddenly nervous, like this is the biggest audition of my life. One final breath in, and I let the words seep from my pores.

"Redde perditum angelus." Although less graceful, the words still permeate the air, potent and powerful. But Jack tugs at the pages fruitlessly. Dejection slices through the pair of us and we mourn the moment of what could have been.

Suddenly the base of my neck begins to frantically hum, the sharpness and unexpectedness causing me to wince. The concentrated sensation begins to burn then slowly spread; slipping down the length of my spine like a line of fire, sliding around the side of my head, directing its current into each shoulder and flowing down to my fingertips. My skin feels aflame with the feeling and I briefly wonder if this is death.

"Jack? I really think I should give this a try myself," I say shakily, put off by the severity of my reaction to The Book. Jack mistakes my shaking for anguish.

"I'm sorry, Ali, but you know I can't let you touch The Book."

"Jack, I feel it." I plead, wishing we were mentally bound so he could experience this sensation.

"Ali, you don't feel anything."