A Borrowed Gift

Author’s note: this story is part of a series. You can probably follow this story as-is, but if you’re curious about the rest, start here.

A tiny, dark chain peeked out from the neck of little Melanie’s nightgown, catching the moonlight with a shifting glint as her chest rose and fell with each breath. Her breath had an easy rhythm, and for the angel watching her, that should’ve been a source of pure relief.

But that angel was Amelia, her sister, her senior in life and her guardian in death. That dark chain held a strange stone which was darker still (in fact, it was the darkest thing either of them had ever seen) and it kept her hidden from those angels that might tear the girl away from her normal life. Amelia had one to match. She stared anxiously at her sister, her mind and her heart torn in two directions as they had been so many times before. She wanted her sister to sleep soundly. She hated to think of the nightmares that had plagued her for the last two years. Yet, she needed the next nightmare to come so she would have the chance to end them for good.

With her waited another angel, one who was not like the others. He did not glow, for one. Two, he had no desire to take Melanie away from her family. He had even insisted the girl should stay, and so these two angels hovered above her in her own bedroom.

“Are you sure about this?” said the dim angel. “I could find another angel to help — spare you the horror of it.”

“Thank you, Cedarwood, but I need to do this myself,” said Amelia. “I won’t be kept in the dark any longer.”

Cedarwood nodded, then sighed and shook his head.

“Gift is not the right word for prophecy. I don’t mean to question the Highest, but surely He can find less…disturbing ways to share His warnings.”

Amelia was inclined to agree. As Cedarwood had explained, Melanie’s gift of prophecy was the source of both her dreams and her ability to speak with angels. Amelia loved having the chance to speak with her living sister, but she would gladly surrender that if it meant Melanie could live a normal life. Indeed, she had prepared herself for that exact sacrifice once before.

“So whatever I see in Melanie’s dream — that’s the future, right?”

“Yes. It has to be. It’s a revelation from the Highest Himself.”

“Right, so if we listen carefully and do as instructed, Melanie will stop having these dreams?”

“Well…maybe. If there are specific instructions, you should certainly follow them. But just as often, prophecy is simply a matter of passing on the message.”

Amelia nodded.

“Then I’ll help her with that. She’s a smart girl, but she’s only seven. She doesn’t…”

She noticed her sister twisting and turning. Her fists clenched tight as her little legs thrashed under the blanket.

“It’s happening,” said Amelia. “Let’s get it started, come on.”

Cedarwood flew down to the girl and motioned for Amelia to come to his side. He placed one finger in the center of Melanie’s forehead and used his other hand for Amelia’s.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Amelia’s vision darkened. There was a pulse, a shiver, a throb. Dull sounds came from far away. She could not feel her ectoplasm, but hardly noticed this lack of feeling. The sounds sharpened into shouts as her vision returned. She saw a wide, silver courtyard. A breathtaking blue sky and high noon sun lavished their light on a grander city than ever she’d seen on earth. The only comparison she could think of was the Silver Watchtower, home of the guardian angels. This confirmed beyond doubt her theory that angels had built this place, but before she bask in her pride she noticed the ugliness that was about to fill the courtyard.

On opposite sides stood two gangs of beasts, human in name alone. The largest and loudest wore pieces of dented metal while their lessers wore mere rags. They wielded spiked clubs, lengths of chain, hooks, hammers, and knives. They shouted the most obscene words and most descriptive threats. And they were soaked and caked with blood, some fresh, some old.

Amelia’s vision shifted, and she remembered that this was not her vision but Melanie’s. She appeared to be crouching and taking refuge behind a statue. She looked around, most likely searching for an exit, but the only obvious way out of the courtyard was to go directly between the two gangs. So, she waited.

The gangs charged. Perhaps Cedarwood could hear Amelia’s pleas to look away, but Melanie did not. She watched as one man’s jaw slit in half from the force of a hammer blow, only for him to slip a thin knife through his attacker’s throat like a needle through thread. A woman laughed as her club connected with her attacker’s groin, but her laughter was cut short. There were screams too. There was blood. There was an eye on the ground, and it was crushed underfoot.

The gangs must’ve started with twenty each, but when the battle was done there were five. One of them had a wooden leg, and his cane was now slick with a fresh crimson coat. They did not seem to remember or care which side they had started on. As they leaned on their weapons and gasped for air they nodded to each other. This was the new gang. When they had caught their breath, they waded to the center of the sloshing viscera and confirmed the new allegiance with pats on the back, grunts, and howls.

Then they spotted Melanie. They charged. Melanie screamed. Amelia’s vision darkened. The return from the dream, thankfully, went quicker than the entry. She was back in her own ectoplasm in time to see her mother step into the room and kneel beside Melanie.

“There, there,” she said. “It was just a nightmare, darling. Mama’s here.”

Melanie sat up and hugged their mother tight. In turn, their mother wrapped her arms around Melanie and stroked the black curls on her head. Amelia could remember those same arms holding her and stroking her own black curls, long ago, whenever she would wake up from a nightmare. How many times had she yearned for them to hold her again? So many times and for so many reasons that it was impossible to count.

“What did you see?” asked Cedarwood.

“You weren’t watching too?” she asked. “I had thought you would.”

“No. Prophecy is a gift for humanity. We get visions and messages of our own, but we don’t get to share in theirs.”

“I see. Well, I saw what I’ve seen in her drawings only…ugh, more detailed. Wherever she keeps dreaming of, it has to be an angelic city. It looks just like the Silver Watchtower.”

“Hmm…but you said there were humans gangs fighting each other…odd. Did you get a look at the sky?”

Amelia smiled and nodded, sensing that she had gotten hold of an important clue.

“I did! It was bright blue and clear. Couldn’t have asked for a prettier day for a bit of bloodsport.”

Cedarwood nodded, but the nod tapered off as his eyes flitted in contemplation. Then he shook his head.

“I can’t think of any time in history we might’ve built a city down here. Surely this city hasn’t been built yet…but I can’t even think of why we would build it. Earth is not our dominion.”

Amelia watched as her mother tucked Melanie back under the covers. As she thought back over the dream, she realized that her emotional problem matched her practical problem. Not only did she not want Melanie to have to explore this awful future for more answers, she knew that she wouldn’t. She was a small and sensible girl who knew that she should hide or run at the first sign of danger. If Amelia was going to see more of the city, she would need to venture through it herself.

“Cedarwood, is there any way I could explore her dreams more directly?”

The dim angel took a deep breath.

“There…is. But Amelia…”

She glared at him.

“What, have you got another warning for me? Care to lecture me like all the other angels?”

Cedarwood smiled.

“You’re right. My apologies. It’s a reflex, more than anything. Just be ready for this one to feel quite different.”

They waited until Melanie had gone back to sleep and her mother had returned to her own bed. Soon after, the girl twisted and turned again. Cedarwood once more touched both sister’s foreheads and asked if Amelia was ready.

She said she was, although this quickly proved false. This time it was not a murky changing of sensations. It was a pull — hard and fast — that jerked Amelia’s ectoplasm with such force she feared she would splatter if something should get in her way. She saw a blur of the brightest light and the deepest darkness rushing past her. When it stopped, she went spinning through the air. The sky was still blue, but starting to cloud over. Columns and domes and tiles of silver glittered all around her.

“Melanie?”

She looked around. Her little sister wasn’t anywhere nearby. She found this strange. It was her dream, after all. How far away could she be?

“MELANIE!”

She’d shouted as loud as she could, knowing there was no danger of attracting the gangs. Her sister could hear her, and they could not. Still, she heard nothing, not even the faintest tip-toe of a little girl carefully sneaking over to her.

“Where are you?”

She did not let herself panic. It was a dream, after all, so no serious harm could come to her sister. Still, she had hoped to provide her some company this time. She flew up above the rooftops and looked around at the city. Now that she had a moment to truly take it in, she noticed that many of the silver structures were in disrepair. A handful had crumbled completely, while others had toppled statues and shattered windows. Nearby, she spotted an enormous circular building with its domed roof almost completely collapsed. Curiously, she spotted a figure running into this building through a back entrance, even though the main entryway was completely blocked by silver rubble. She flew over to the rim of the ruined dome and looked inside.

Between the piles of rubble, there were tents. Between the tents, there were people. Since they weren’t fornicating or killing each other, Amelia flew down to get a better look at them. The story of this camp revealed itself to her simply by the sight of these people. Many were old, and those who were not old were disabled. Those who were not old, and who sometimes were and sometimes weren’t disabled, were children. These children clustered together, making it obvious that their parents were out of the picture. This camp was for those who couldn’t survive among the gangs, and the supposedly inaccessible structure that housed it gave them much needed secrecy.

Though there was no fighting, it would be woefully inaccurate to describe their existence as “harmony.” Frail men bickered and slapped each other’s bony hands over scraps of hard bread. Children picked the pockets of their blind and deaf neighbors. Still, there were market stalls and fire pits and sleeping cots. These people carried out the barest possible excuse for life, and so it didn’t strike Amelia as odd that there was a larger tent at one end of the camp, with stars and moons sewn all over its fabric, that had a sign announcing “The Seer Knows All.” For her dearth of options, she flew into the Seer’s tent. Inside, a woman in a tattered robe set next to a shelf full of disappointing trinkets, resting her hand on a dull glass ball. She scowled at Amelia.

“What are you?”

Amelia looked behind her, then turned back to the woman.

“You can see me?”

“Yes. What are you?”

Remembering her manners, Amelia curtseyed.

“I am the guardian angel Amelia, here on an important mission.”

“Angel? You don’t look like any angel I’ve ever seen. Where’s your wings?”

“I…”

Amelia gave herself a moment to think. True to her name, the Seer seemed to have the gift of prophecy. If she played her cards right, Amelia knew she could learn something from her.

“I am an angel from the ancient past, come forward in time for…well, we shall see if I care to disclose. But you — you have the gift of prophecy. You can help me.”

The Seer stuck out her chin proudly.

“That I do. Tell me what you need and I’m sure we can arrange a little trade.”

“Excellent,” said Amelia. “I need you to tell me the location of a young girl. Seven years old, curly black hair, like mine. She’s lost somewhere in this city.”

“Curly black hair…seven years old…you know, that sounds an awful lot like the rumors I’ve been hearing. They say some girl keeps appearing and disappearing all over. Scared a few of the bandits half to death, she did.”

“Where have they seen her? Can you show me?”

“One piece at a time, angel dearest, don’t get greedy. Now you tell me one of your ancient secrets.”

Amelia thought for a moment. She knew it might be a stretch to tell her something useful, since she could hardly think of anything that would be useful in this ruined city, but she could just as well keep her attention with something tantalizing. With a smile, she found the story she needed.

“There is a demon named Gusroyn, who has the body of a baboon, eyes of fire, and dark wings. Should he ever give you trouble, tell him the angel Amelia is watching him and she hasn’t decided if his debt is cleared.”

The Seer cocked her head and screwed up her face.

“Demon? What’s a demon?”

Amelia blinked. How could she not know what a demon was?

“You know…a demon. From Hell. They’re the enemies of angels.”

“Hell…what is this nonsense? Angels have no enemies — they took over everything! This whole reeking pile of dung is theirs!”

The Seer rose from her chair and hobbled over to Amelia, who soon found a crooked finger jabbing right through her chest.

“I’m starting to think you’re not an angel at all. Probably just some measly ghost. If you start wailing like the others I swear I’ll lay a curse on you that’ll make your rotting corpse shiver.”

Now Amelia was puzzled. None of this was making sense. No demons? Angels taking over everything?

“We angels answer to the Highest, Seer. We are but humble servants — ”

“The Highest? You mean…”

The Seer’s face lost all color. She blinked and let her mouth hang open.

“You…you really are from the past, aren’t you?” she asked. “Angel or not, you must be…”

The Seer fell to her knees. She clasped her hands together and pleaded with her eyes before the words could form on her sputtering lips.

“Please, tell me: what was it like? I…please, don’t judge me, I just want to know…”

“Want to know what?” said Amelia. “I don’t know what you’re asking for.”

The Seer went quiet. She looked off to the side as tears welled up in her eyes. There was something almost childlike in the way she sat on her knees and folded her hands in her lap. When Amelia was convinced the Seer was too lost in her thoughts to continue, the woman at last asked her question.

“What was it like before God left?”

Amelia could not wrap her mind around the question. The Seer might as well have asked “Is there up?” or “What is if?” Amelia had not been especially devout in life, but her family had gone to church often enough and God was just…there. Always. He was so reliably there that Amelia was used to thinking about more immediate things. She didn’t even have the tools to guess at this question.

She heard a scream. It was Melanie’s. She’d know it anywhere. It wasn’t too far away. She started to float towards it but then she was pulled. Her ectoplasm stretched as the deepest darkness and the brightest light blurred all around her. Then she was back in Melanie’s bedroom, watching as her little sister sat up crying and her mother once again came to comfort her.

“Welcome back,” said Cedarwood. “Did you learn anything?”

Cedarwood was staring at her. She stared back. This was the angel who had told Melanie, and her, to trust these dreams. Now? Now Amelia wasn’t sure she could trust anything.

“No,” she said.