Paradise Made

Forty-Two: War and Death

It was a sad truth that I had never learned to use a firearm. Sure over the last few weeks I'd grown more comfortable with one in my hand, but now with the choice of weapons the Templars offered it was not a gun that I chose. I wasn't entirely sure why I chose the pair of electric batons, refusing to admit to myself that it may have been because they looked cool. They were also effective and easy to use. Though I didn't plan on using it I carried a knife as well, strapped to my hip.

"You should be safe inside the building," Sara had explained to me. "But if you feel War starting to affect you, find an angel. They can clear the violent energy away."

It was true that I was angry, deep in my core, though I was unsure if that had anything to do with Micheal. If I had to estimate, about half of the people who'd lived in these buildings had not joined the mob outside. This was their home and there were holes being blown in the walls. Afraid of the coming attack the angels guarded one floor where all those taking refuge in the building had been herded. In truth though, the rest of the building was not empty.

Batons at the ready I crept through a lower level, searching for trouble, hoping it would not find me. Voices reached me through a half open apartment door. I couldn't make out the words but there was a chorus of nervous laughter. I'd check on them, make sure they were alright.

A few youth about my age sat around a coffee table, a bottle of wine as the centerpiece. One of them I recognized.

"Xavier," Nik called. "I was wondering if I would see you."

The shock passed quickly. "I thought you were getting out of London."

"It is a long story, and it would appear I am stuck here now. All's the same really, the whole world is like this."

"Not, quite," I said, despite myself being drawn towards the casual gathering. "I don't know if you guys even want to know this, but the horseman of war is right outside. And Sara is here, Sara Smith. Have you heard of her?"

There were nods around the table.

"Is she really the second coming?" a girl asked. "Is she really Jesus?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Or is it the other way around?" asked a boy, his words slurring a little. This combined with his British accent made him difficult to understand. "Is Lucas Dejan the messiah and Sara Smith really the Antichrist? Can we really trust you, Xavier?"

"Fuck off, Bry!" Nik kicked him under the table.

"Do people believe that?" I asked, unfazed.

"A good number," said the girl. "The conservative types mainly."

"Man," Bry leaned towards me, almost knocked over the wine, which another boy skillfully caught. "You know I was just taking the piss, right? If Dejan was the bloody savior I'd join up with hell. I would."

I couldn't help my smile. "Glad to hear that, I guess. Listen, guys, shit's about to go down out there. I'm not the boss of you, but I would really go upstairs. Let the angels protect you."

"The same angels who are ending the world?" Nik asked. "They're not really on our side. You taught me that."

I needed a moment to think through my response. "That's true. And I have no idea what will happen tomorrow, or even an hour from now. But at this moment complying is the less dangerous option."

"The church is the only safe place so we pretend to pray," Nik spoke softly, and I quite literally felt my heart beat faster. "Are you giving in, Xavier?"

I shook my head. "No, God no. It's hopeless but I'm still trying."

I loved Sara. When I'd kissed her it'd wished to forget everything else. I'd wished that the two of us could be back at Sumar University, talking about the meaning of the universe over coffee. Wondering, not really knowing. But I knew what side I was on. I loved her smell and the feel of her lips against mine, but there was no forgetting. I knew what side I was on.