Topic: The End of the Innocence

Rhys Bristol

Date: 2013-11-14 21:30 EST
((Takes place following The Crucial Moment.))

Night had become day, and the day trekked on, hour by hour, toward nightfall. Rachel watched as Zachariel seemed to grow weaker and weaker, her tender heart aching for the newfound friend - if that was what to call him - who was slowly but surely succumbing to the pain and loss that would kill him. She did not know what to do, how she could possibly help him. All she could do was be with him, to make certain he knew he was not alone. She sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers gently stroking through his hair, fighting back her own tears for his sake.

The angel felt himself fading and knew he was dying. Without intervention of some kind, it was doubtful he'd survive until nightfall, though it mattered little. He'd rather die this way than at the hands of their captors, and he was determined to resist them every step of the way, even if it killed him. His breath had grown shallow, his face far too pale. The pain, at least, had faded, becoming nothing more than a dull annoying ache gnawing at the edge of his consciousness, like a toothache that continuously grated on his nerves. It was the feeling of weakness that worried him, but he was doing his best to conserve energy, so that he could draw on it when it was needed. "Don't worry," he whispered in a voice that was so weak it was barely more than a whisper. "Your brother will find us. All will be well." For her, at least. He wasn't so sure about himself, but when did angels' lives matter when mortals were involved"

"I know he will," she promised him, her own voice fallen to a whisper in a sympathetic echo of his. "Please don't go." Don't leave me on my own again. For twenty-five years, she had lived alone and barely noticed her loneliness. Now, she had been in the company of someone who loved her for a little over twenty hours, and she didn't think she could go back to that loneliness. Something had to happen.

He smiled up at her, touched by her concern, and even more so by her plea. She would forget him in time. Another angel would be assigned to protect her in his absence. She would be reunited with her brother and learn what it was to be part of a family, what it was to be loved. He could give her this, his last gift to her, his final sacrifice. "You will be with your brother soon," he promised, touching her face with a gentle hand.

She moved to kneel by the bed, her face on a level with his, her hands curling about the one he laid against her cheek. Of course she wanted to be reunited with her brother, with the only family she even knew about. But that wasn't enough, not now. "I want to be with you, too," she told him softly. "I love you, Zachariel. You can't just drop into my life and show me what I haven't got, and then leave me. You can't."

"You still don't understand, do you?" he asked, with that maddeningly angelic smile of his, despite his own pain and suffering. "I have watched over you since the time when you soul was brought into creation. I have protected you, loved you, cared for you. I have been with you all this time, and when you were taken from me, it was as if a part of me was missing. But you are here now, and you will be safe soon. Rathanael will save you. All will be as it should be. And I-I will rest. I have served my purpose. I have done my best. My time is at an end, but your life is just beginning. That is all that matters, my beloved one."

"No! No, I won't let you go!" But no matter how much she denied it, Rachel knew she could no more prevent his death than she could stop the passage of time. Squeezing his hand between her own, she bowed her head for a long moment, still fighting not to show him her tears, not wanting to hurt him further with her own pain. A feeling crept over her, a gentle touch she had felt once before in this room, only a day ago. Lifting her head, her gaze turned toward what seemed to be a blank wall, searching ....for what? She didn't know. All she knew was that, somehow, they were not alone any longer. "Rhys?"

There was no answer just yet from whoever was watching, and the angel by her side was only just starting to feel a strange prickling sensation, weak at first, but warm and almost invigorating. Something was happening, someone was trying to open a window. He pushed himself up onto an elbow and searched for the source.

Rachel peered harder at the wall. It had been like this yesterday, when she'd felt eyes on her from a source she couldn't identify, and suddenly a hand had grasped hers. Her brother had pulled himself into her little bedroom for just a few minutes before being pulled away again. Had he found some way to step through and stay' "Rhys!"

"It is not Rhys," Zachariel informed her, eyes narrowed as he tried to focus his attention and whatever strength he had left on whoever it was that was trying to poke their way into their little prison cell. He wasn't quite sure who it was, never having had any connection or acquaintance with the one doing the scrying.

"Then who is it?" she asked, more than a little alarmed. For all her loneliness, her little bedroom had been a safe haven for twenty-five years, and now it seemed as though anyone could just break in. Suffice it to say, it was not a comforting thought. "What's happening?"

"I am not sure, but I think someone is trying to..." He broke off, straightening as he sensed something else. For a moment, he was not sure who was there, who was working the spell, but suddenly he felt something else, a presence he could not deny. "Lailah," he whispered, feeling his sister's presence as surely as Rachel's. Had his sister somehow found him and was coming to rescue him, or was she helping Rhys to find them' He moved to his feet, trying to ignore the wave of pain that came with each movement, knowing that she would feel it, too, as the connection grew stronger. "They are there," he told the girl. "Four of them, I think..."

"Four?" Rachel was confused, rising onto her own feet as Zachariel straightened from where he had been lying. Rhys had not mentioned anyone else, and yet ....Well, she wasn't stupid. She very much doubted one person alone could somehow get her out of here, especially since Zachariel had been so badly hurt when he had tried. She turned toward the source of the feeling, a sense of urgency filling her. "Rhys! Rhys, are you there?"

Neither had any way of knowing what was going on on the other side of that connection. Neither had any way of knowing just who was trying to break through, though Zach sensed his sister's presence, along with three other souls. There was nothing but silence for a long moment, and then a voice broke through at last, one that was familiar to them both. "Rachel..." It was a decidely masculine voice and one Rachel would recognize as that of the brother she had only recently and momentarily met. "Where are you?" the disembodied voice asked, urgency apparent in the tone of that voice.

She startled, recognising the voice that echoed through the room to them. That was her brother, that was Rhys! She couldn't see him, but she felt certain he must be able to see them, to see her. Her eyes turned to Zachariel, unable to answer the question her brother put to her but hoping, somehow, that the angel beside her would know.

Zachariel heard that voice, as well, and the question that had been asked, a question he knew the answer to better than anyone else. He turned his head in the direction the voice seemed to be coming from, though even he could not see anything or anyone. Whether he could see them or not with his eyes didn't matter. He could sense their presence, feel their souls, but only so long as the window was open, and he knew he didn't have much time. "Mystic," he replied, though that answer was still too vague. "The house where you were born."

Rhys Bristol

Date: 2013-11-14 21:31 EST
"Wait ....what?" Just the thought of that was almost inconceivable to the young woman standing close by. She had known this was a safe place, but she had not realise just where she was. This place, this prison, however it had been formed, was in the house where she had been born, where her brother had been born" Rachel had no idea how she should process that. But the chance to do so was taken out of her hands.

With a deafening crack, the portal she was so accustomed to opened, disgorging three figures. Though they were cloaked and hooded, she recognised them - Oliver, Cassandra, and Meredith, three of those who had lied to her over the course of her lifetime. They had always appeared to her before as benefactors, as protectors, but now ....They each held blades of some kind, and in their faces was a twisted mass of fury and callous hate. She felt a scream rise from her throat, tearing from her lips, and pain exploded in her cheek as Meredith struck her, knocking her off her feet and down onto the carpet that writhed beneath them.

Where Rhys had been born - or at least, had been conceived and grown up. Rachel had not so much been born as ripped from her dead mother's womb, but it was a minor detail in the grand scheme of things. Zachariel sensed Rhys would know where he meant, as there was only one house in all of Mystic - in all of creation - that could be defined in such a way. He only hoped her brother had the means necessary at his disposal to break through the wall into the dimension in which they were being held. But there was no time to think on that now either. "You will not touch her," Zachariel proclaimed in a matter-of-fact tone, as he gathered whatever strength was left to him and placed himself between the witches and his beloved one.

He took advantage of the portal as it cracked open, allowing him access to the heavenly energy that had been denied him when it was closed. Though he was Fallen and he no longer had wings, he was still an angel and he was still Rachel's Guardian. There were forces at work that were far older and far stronger than any spell or power the witches could draw on, and with the Gates of Hell closed, their powers were somewhat limited. He extended a hand, summoning his blade without a word, without a thought. Had he wings, they would have unfurled in that moment and he would have been a fierce sight to behold. Like all angels, he was not only a Guardian, but a Warrior, and he would fight to the death to protect the one to whom his life was bonded.

The angel didn't wait for a response from the witch who had struck Rachel. Though she was human, she was tainted, damned, unredeemable, little more than a monster, as lost as the demons who she had worshipped. He wasted no time in smiting her, without pity, without mercy, without compassion. In that moment, he was a Warrior with all the power of Heaven surging through him. The witch was little more than a flea on his back. He cut her down quickly, her blood staining his blade, but she was only one of seven, and it was the High Priest - the one called Oliver - that was his true target. He made no threats, no promises. He was done talking to them. They would pay for what they'd done, one way or another.

As Meredith fell, holy fire searing through her veins, turning her organs to ash, the two others closed in, lips moving quickly. Spells lashed out at the fallen angel - fire, air, water, energy twisting and turning, seeking to find a weakness and exploit it, powered by the innocence of the young woman they had held captive for so many years. Power was a dangerous drug, and one to which the Mystic coven had become addicted very quickly. As power flashed all around her, Rachel whimpered, scrambling into a corner to cower away from the violence that had erupted all around her. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth where she had been struck, her arms wrapping tight about her knees, wishing it would all just stop. Rhys ....please, you have to help us.

The angel faltered a moment as the remaining duo called on dark magic to aid them. His sword arm trembled, if only momentarily, just long enough to give the witches a small advantage, should they notice before he recovered. He was dimly aware of Rachel whimpering nearby and he sensed her pain and her fear, but he had no time to tend to her now. That would have to come later, if he survived. And if not, there would be others to take his place.

Ancient languages fell from the lips of the two powerful witches who advanced on him, hands outstretched like claws, wielding their nasty-looking blades. The death of their sister-witch had made them angry, yes, but not quite angry enough to make the obvious mistake. As Oliver drew back his hand to cast once again, Cassandra saw the tremble in the angel's arm and lunged forward, her blade slashing toward that arm. Rachel cried out, her fear for Zachariel overpowering any fear she felt for herself, and the room around them seemed to waver. For the briefest moment, there was a suggestion of decay and neglect all around, before the bright barrenness of the room reasserted itself.

"There is no place in Paradise for such as thee," Zachariel remarked, almost pitying the woman who dared strike at an Angel of the Lord. He could not find it within him to hate, but she was almost too pathetic not to pity. Her blade made contact, drawing blood, just as he was raising his arm to wield that holy blade again. He made no show of pain, not as he had when they'd so cruelly chopped off his wings. His expression was made of stone, if only for a moment, as he brought the blade down again, Driving it straight through to her heart, she was dead in an instant.

But that moment of distraction as one charged to her death gave the leader, the most powerful, his chance. The spell at his fingertips lashed out with a crack that popped ears, scoring biting lightning over the raw wounds at the angel's back. "You stupid God-botherer," Oliver snarled through the crack and hiss of his spell. "You won't live to see Paradise, ever again."

Though the witch's threat might have sounded weak, even laughable under normal circumstances, these was nothing normal about this. The witch took advantage of the angel's one weakness - the wounds that had already been inflicted and that went so deep he knew his life was already forfeit. The angel's fingers closed tighter on the blade he held within his hand. No matter what happened, he would not let go, not again; he would not lose the one and only weapon that could defend him and Rachel against their enemies. He fell back, away from the witch, retreating if only for a moment to gather his strength, but the wounds went too deep, and he fell to his knees, just as he had done when he'd been overtaken and captured and his wings had been chopped from his back.

As he fell, the innocent woman who had promised him her love cried out once again, his name echoing not just through the rippling pocket dimension that had been her home for so many years, but out, into the broken-down, abandoned house that stood around it. Her voice reached the ears of another angel, locked in combat with not one, but four witches, surrounded by summoned monsters from the darkness of time itself. Lailah tensed, feeling time slipping between her fingers. Whatever chance they had, it was fast escaping their reach. She needed her allies. Now.

Fortunately, Mystic was only a short drive from Centerville, and Adam wasted no time getting there, pulling up outside the dilapidated house that had once been Rhys' home, unconcerned for the moment about being inconspicuous. Fortunately for him, he was FBI and would be able to explain it all away, one way or another. Rhys wasted no time either, exiting the car before Adam even had it in Park. If anyone was watching, they'd see him extend his hand as he rushed toward the wreckage of his childhood home to summon Caliburnus, the first sword of Arthur.

Rhys Bristol

Date: 2013-11-14 21:32 EST
Whatever warding had been put up on the house had been shattered by Lailah's arrival, leaving their path clear to enter the chaos that reigned inside. At first glance, it seemed overwhelming - over a dozen bodies stood between them and Rhys' Guardian, some snarling, some spitting, all exuding some dark, malign influence that made them more than scary enough one at a time. As the two men rushed in, Lailah struck out at the ring surrounding her, her angel-sword flashing in the gloom of the musty old house. Holy fire erupted as she smote the first creature to enter the reach of her blade, yet even as it fell, the others began to swarm. Not even an angel could hold out against so many.

Rhys would have been impressed by his Guardian's skill with the blade, but there was no time for that now. He had called his own sword to him from Avalon and now held it in hand, the blade shining with a light of its own, as he stormed into the fray, cutting a path through the monsters toward the angel. Adam followed on Rhys' heels, muttering a curse as he took in the scene.

Without a blade of his own, he had no choice but to resort to his handgun, which he'd had enough foresight to load with specially-made silver cartridges. An even better shot than Rhys, he rarely missed. "Upstairs!" Adam shouted, instinctively knowing that was where they needed to be. It was where the demons had first attacked twenty-five years ago, and where more recently Zachariel had interceded for him and saved his own life.

Rhys was not sure how things worked in Avalon exactly. He'd never really been given an instruction manual on how to use his sword or call his warriors to him, but he'd been told they were at his disposal if and when he so needed them. He felt a little silly and more than a little pretentious calling on them by name, but perhaps in time, he would learn how to do it using will power alone. For now, there were more important things than a simple matter of pride. The need was immediate; they were needed now. Rhys clenched his jaw a moment as he hacked his way into the fray, shouting like a warrior of old on the field of battle, "Warriors of Avalon, your help is needed!"

Pretentious or not, the summoning worked. With his hand on a sword of Avalon - Caliburnus, no less - the Champion's call was heard across the Isle behind the mists. More importantly, it was answered. As the monsters summoned with black magic turned from their assault on the angel to meet the attack by Rhys and Adam, more figures appeared to confuse the melee further. Four wore the armor of Avalon, linked chain and leather beneath blue surcoats crossed in red, yet three more were dressed as Rhys was. They were clearly hunters on Earth, with their own Avalon blades. A howl went up from the beasts as blades began to slice into them from all sides. Battle was joined on an equal footing as, slowly but surely, the two remaining witches from this fight were forced backward, up the stairs, toward the place where their leader stood hidden.

Blades slashed as teeth gnashed, steel and claws finding their mark and drawing blood, the roar of gunfire heard above it all. Each gunshot was carefully aimed as Adam pressed his way through the fight in pursuit of the witches, happy to leave the beasts for those with weapons of a more magical nature. The Knights seemed more than capable of dealing with the darkly-summoned creatures, the trio of allies slowly forcing their way forward toward the stairs at Adam's urging. The uproar was enough that it must have been heard from outside, though only those within the house knew what was really taking place there. Rhys seemed to be enjoying the fight, which allowed him to release the hatred and fury that had been building up inside ever since he had learned of his sister's fate. Green eyes flashed with rage as he ferociously cut his way through the maze of monsters, taking little notice of his own bloodied wounds and leaving nothing alive in his wake, but allies and friends.

Lailah cried out as a lucky cast from one outflung witch's hand knocked her blade from her hand, but an angel has more than simply battle skills to rely upon in the midst of a fight. Shrugging off the spell that sought to bind her, she advanced on that hapless fool, pressing her palm to the woman' forehead. Holy fire burst forth, there was a moment when the witch screamed ....and suddenly, there was only one cloaked figure stumbling up those stairs, fear gripping a dark heart in the face of sword and gun.

Adam turned as Lailah and Rhys caught up with him, glancing back to make sure they were following. He paused long enough for them to catch up and pass him on the stairs and shouted over the din of swords and monsters alike. "I've got this. Go!" he told the other two, taking the rear so they weren't attacked from behind, leaving Lailah and Rhys to find where Zachariel and Rachel were being held.

Rhys reached for the moonstone he had slipped around his neck as he and Lailah continued up the stairs to the hallway off which were three bedrooms. He heard more gunshots behind him as he and Lailah arrived on the second floor. He wasn't quite sure how to open the door to the place where his sister and her guardian were being kept, but as it turned out, he didn't have to.

As they gained that upper floor, a scream sounded from the room that Rhys had known as the nursery, the room that had been prepared for his little sister to live in before her birth. It was his little sister screaming, fright once again thick in her voice, the sound strangely muffled. As each witch fell, the drain of power became stronger, but more than that ....whatever was happening within that pocket of existence was doing something to the innocence that gave the witches strength in the first place.

With thought only to save his sister, the Champion of Avalon turned in the direction of that scream, knowing it was her, could only be her. The ironic tragedy of her imprisonment in the nursery his parents had once so lovingly prepared for her welcome into the world wouldn't occur to him until much later. For now, his entire will was focused on finding and saving her.

"Rhys!" Lailah's warning came just a little late to keep the hooded figure from closing with Rhys - the last of the witches they had chased from the floor below, where Adam and Avalon's finest were doing a little clean up of their own. A dagger swiped toward his face, this attack motivated more by fear than by any real certainty of success.

Rhys heard Lailah's warning just in time to dodge the swipe at his face, though as he ducked out of the way, the blade caught him in the shoulder and he winced in pain. It didn't seem to be a serious wound, but the sharp pain of it distracted him if only for a moment and he stumbled back with a quick glance at his shoulder, muttering an angry curse.

With the witch's focus on Rhys, Lailah took her moment, grasping hold of the wrist that held the dagger and wrenching the witch's arm backward until the woman screeched in pain. The angel looked to Rhys. "Go. Save your sister." Her hand descended on the witch's pale forehead. "May you be forgiven, daughter of darkness."

Rhys noticed the feeling of sticky blood beneath his shirt, but there would be time for healing later. He didn't spare a second to acknowledge Lailah or watch how she dealt with the witch. He would have been less merciful, less forgiving, but he was no longer an angel, and that was no longer required of him. He pushed past the other two and burst through the door to what would have been the nursery to find an even more horrendous scene than what was going on downstairs.

Rhys Bristol

Date: 2013-11-14 21:33 EST
Rhys' heart froze in his chest at what he found when he opened that door and stepped through the portal or whatever it was into the pocket dimension where his sister and her guardian were being held. He watched as his sister screamed and darted forward to shield the angel's body with her own, just as the witch was raising a dark blade to end the angel's life. "No!" he shouted, as he charged forward and shoved Caliburnus into the man's exposed back, twisting the blade to finish the job. He would have rather killed him face to face, but in a way, he thought he was justified in his actions, avenging both the mother whose body they'd violated and the sister whose life they had stolen.

Crouched over Zach's weak body, Rachel thought for certain that Oliver was going to kill them both. But a voice she had only learned recently pushed into the horror of the scene around her, a voice that belonged ....to her brother. She looked up at Oliver's cruel face, and started in wild shock as the witch's chest suddenly sprouted the business end of a sword, spattering her face and arm with the blood of her captor. Something changed in her as she watched the man die, something she could never have put a name to. She felt that change like a blanket being pulled from over her eyes. It wasn't an emotion, nor was it even a vague feeling. It was an understanding that she would never be the same again. Her brother had killed a man to save her; regardless of how deserved the fate, Oliver's blood was on her hands.

And as she came to that terrifying conclusion, the innocence that had held her from the world by the hands of the witches broke. The brightness of the barren cell flickered out of existence, leaving Rhys, Rachel, Zach, and the gurgling body of Oliver in the cramped confines of the forgotten nursery. As Rachel's eyes sought her brother's in the new gloom, the rotten floor gave way beneath them, plunging all four into the room below.

Rhys barely had time to think, his gaze meeting his sister's briefly, before he found the floor giving way beneath them as the pocket dimension disappeared and they found themselves back in the rotting wreckage of what had once been their family's home. Rhys just barely had time to call his sister's name in warning before they disappeared from view, and he felt himself falling to land heavily in the wreckage of the first floor beneath them.

Like Rhys, Rachel had barely any time to absorb what had happened, the dissolution of her prison cell and her first glimpse of reality, as dilapidated and broken down as it was. The floor heaved and cracked beneath her, sending them plunging down into the room below, her body wrapped protectively over Zach's as best she could. The impact was harder than she could possibly have imagined, stunning the young woman as she fell back, lolling against the debris that had fallen with them.

Even Rhys was momentarily stunned after unexpectedly crashing through the floor roughly ten feet to the floor below. It took him a minute before slowly rolled to his side and to his feet, coughing a little at the cloud of dust and debris that was the remains of the second story nursery. He was bloodied and battered and covered in dust, but as far as he could tell he was all in one piece and no bones had been broken. Strangely, the wound at his shoulder was already starting to heal, thanks to the ring Nat had given him, but that wouldn't occur to him until later.

At the moment, his first thought was for his sister, searching for her amidst the wreckage of the house and fallen bodies. He saw what remained of the man who'd been about to skewer his sister's guardian, but only paused briefly to make sure the man, indeed, dead. Somehow he'd lost track of Caliburnus, but whether it was because he'd lost hold of the sword or the sword had deemed it was no longer needed, he wasn't quite sure. Rhys assumed the sword had returned on its own to Avalon, where it would remain in safe keeping until it was needed again

As for Zachariel, without his wings, he was as helpless as any human, and he fell helplessly through the floor with the others to a heavy and painful landing. Already gravely wounded, the angel deathly still and silent amidst the rubble and debris.

Around them, the fight had already been coming to a satisfying conclusion when the little group had fallen through on top of it, effectively ending the altercation with a bare minimum of fuss. In a thought and a heartbeat, Lailah was there, ignoring everyone as she moved to kneel beside her fallen brother, her face pale once again as his pain washed over her. Rachel groaned softly, her head turning as she blinked her eyes open. She felt as though something heavy had sat on her for a brief second, scratches and cuts decorating her arms as she tried to sit up.

Rhys found his sister amidst the wreckage and picked his way toward her, boots crunching over chunks of crumbled plaster, rotting wood, and broken glass. "Rachel!" he called, crouching down to help her sit up, hands moving quickly over her to check for wounds of a more serious nature than just surface scratches and bruises. "Are you all right?" he asked, cupping her face in his hands as he searched her eyes. He knew she must be terrified, but there had been no other way to save her but brute force.

It was almost as though there was no room for terror in her any longer, the physical pain combining with the mental shock of seeing someone die and the emotional trauma of knowing that Zachariel was not long for this world creating a confusing mess of difficult to place feelings inside her. She groaned once again as Rhys drew her up from where she lay, blinking quickly to clear her eyes and look into his face as he searched her eyes. "I ....I'm good," she managed softly, suddenly lunging forward to wrap her arm about his neck, to embrace her brother for the first time in her life.

A younger Rhys might have been taken aback by that embrace, even frightened by it, but this Rhys had grown and matured over the last year or so and was ready to accept his role as husband, father, brother, friend, and even as the Champion of Avalon. He wrapped an arm around her to hug her back and offer the comfort, reassurance, and even love that she'd lacked all her life. "It's gonna be okay, Rach. You're safe now." But he only held onto her for a moment, knowing there were more pressing matters at hand; there would be time for reunions later. "Where's Zach?" he asked, lifting her to her feet and scanning the room for the fallen angel.

"Zach?" For a moment, Rachel was confused by the shortening of the fallen angel's name, frowning as much with that as with a certain amount of pain when she stood up. The split at the corner of her mouth pulled uncomfortably as she spoke. "Zachariel!" She twisted about, her green eyes seeking the fallen angel with her brother, only to find him a little way away. Lailah was crouched over him, her hands on his shoulders. Rachel released Rhys' hands and scrambled to them, tripping over the debris to land in a painful sprawl beside the angel siblings. "Zachariel?" she whispered, reaching to curl her fingers into his. "Don't go, you said you wouldn't go. You said Rhys would come and he has, and you can't go!"

It didn't help that the angel had landed on his back, reopening the wounds that had not had much time to heal. Despite his pain, his eyelids fluttered open when he heard Rachel's voice, and he smiled weakly up at her. "It's all right, Rachel," he told her quietly, his voice barely above that of a whisper, each word slow and strained. "I'm ready, so long as you are well."

Rhys Bristol

Date: 2013-11-14 21:34 EST
Rhys followed his sister to where the angel lie fallen and broken beyond repair. There was nothing he could do for him, and without his wings, he thought the angel was beyond even Lailah's abilities to heal and repair the damage that had been done. That only left them one alternative, and it was a long shot, but he felt they had no choice. "Lailah, I need you to go get Nat and bring her here. Right away."

He was right - Zachariel's injury, both to his body and to his immortal soul, were beyond any skill Lailah possessed to heal. She looked at Rhys in confusion as he ordered her to fetch his wife. "No spell can fix what has been done, Rhys," she told him, her voice filled with her brother's pain. She looked down at Zachariel, surprise lighting her expression as she watched Rachel gather the fallen angel into her arms, tears falling from the mortal woman's eyes as she begged him not to leave her. "Not even love can save him."

"No," Rhys agreed, knowing time was of the essence if they wanted to save him. There was no time to explain now; he'd have to explain later. For now she had to trust him. "We have to get him to Avalon. It's the only way. Now, go get Nat and bring her here, before it's too late. She can take us there." He did not say him or them, but us, fully intending to take Lailah with them. Zachariel was her brother, after all, and she had a right to accompany them. He only hoped his gut instinct was right, and the Lady wouldn't be angry with him for making this decision without consulting her. Rhys heard sirens in the distance and searched the room for Adam, hoping he, too, had not fallen in battle.

Much to Rhys' relief, Adam chose precisely that moment to rejoin them. "They're all dead," Adam informed the group, sharp eyes quickly assessing the situation.

"Avalon?" It was obvious that Lailah did not have the first clue what he was talking about, but she trusted in him, as he trusted in her. With a deafening flutter of wings, she was gone, leaving Rachel rocking Zachariel gently back and forth, willing him to live. Around them, the warriors who had been summoned were stepping back through the various shadowed portals that had brought them there, their presence no longer required.

"Do you really think that's a good idea?" Adam asked, as he picked his way through the rubble to Rhys, his voice low so the other two wouldn't hear them or become concerned. "Angels in Avalon?" he asked, seeing the necessity of it, but knowing Rhys was taking a big chance. Still, there was no other way Adam could think of to save the fallen angel.

"I'll take my chances," Rhys replied, crouching down beside his sister and the dying angel. "I'm gonna take you to someone who can help, but you gotta trust me."

A moment later, that flutter of wings was repeated, and Lailah reappeared, her hand wrapped vice-like around Natalya's arm. It didn't seem as though she had explained, simply grabbed the woman and flown, and Nat did not look happy about it. She wrenched her arm out of the angel's grasp. "Touch me again, and I will take great pleasure in ripping your feathers out."

"Nat!" Rhys called, glancing her way at the sound of her voice, ignoring their bickering. "Rachel's guardian is dying. I need you to open a portal to Avalon." He hoped that would be explanation enough, and he hoped she wouldn't choose that moment to point out the folly of his decision. He'd take full responsibility for it when they got there.

Adam stepped back away from the group, knowing someone needed to stay back and offer some explanation to the police whose sirens were growing louder as they approached. "Go," he told them both. "I've got this."

Despite her irritation with Lailah in that moment, Nat knew when not to argue. There'd be time enough for that later. A sweep of her gaze took in the rubble all around them, the bodies of witches and monsters strewn here and there, the young woman who could only be Rachel crying over a bloodied man who must be the fallen angel Lailah had mentioned. That gaze then went to Rhys with a gentle warning in her eyes, but she said nothing, taking in a deep breath and turning to the nearest blank wall. Her hand went to the token that hung at her neck, her mind concentrated on it, and slowly but surely mist began to form, filling the room until they might as well have been standing in a fog bank.

"We'll see you in New York in a few days," Rhys promised his friend, not really sure how long it would be before they returned, but confident Adam could handle things in Mystic. There was no one he trusted more. He returned Nat's gaze with one of his own that silently asked her what choice he had.

Rachel gasped, frightened by whatever was happening. She had never experienced anything like this, with no reference for the mist that swirled around them, tugging at her hair and clothes. "Rhys?" she called to her brother, her arms tightening about Zachariel.

Rhys heard the fear in sister's voice as she called his name. He would have reached for her hand, but she was holding too tightly to the broken angel. Instead he replied, his voice soft with gentle reassurance, "It's okay, Rachel. Just hang on. We're going for help." He remained close, unaware of what had become of Adam or Lailah, but he'd find out soon enough.

As the mists cleared, they were no longer in the dilapidated building that had once been Rhys' childhood home. Instead, they were standing at the very edge of the Temple grounds in Avalon, the peace of the place rushing to soothe their worries and fears as the mist swept away entirely. Well, most of them were there. Adam had chosen to stay, and Lailah ....Nat wasn't sure what had happened to Lailah. She turned to Rhys, a faint frown on her face. "I didn't leave her behind," she promised him, glancing up as Handmaidens began to appear from the Temple, hurrying to greet them.

He, too, noticed that somehow Lailah had not arrived with them, but he had more important things to worry about than his guardian angel's whereabouts or why she hadn't accompanied them. "It doesn't matter. We need to get Zach to the Lady." Or get the Lady to Zach, whichever. Rhys had no way of knowing if she could help him or if she'd regained her strength from their last visit, but he could think of no one else who could help them but her. As for Zachariel, he was deathly pale and barely breathing, his body going cold in Rachel's arms, dangerously close to dying.

Almost before the words were out of Rhys' mouth, the Handmaidens had joined them. Gentle hands disentangled Rachel from where she sat, cradling Zachariel's dying body, raising him up into their arms as they carried him toward the Temple proper. Rachel fought them, naturally. "No ....where are you taking him?" she demanded, wincing as she pushed herself up onto her feet, limping after them at speed. "No! Zachariel!"

Rhys shot a worried glance at Nat before hurrying after Rachel, catching her by the arm and gently turning her to face him. "Rachel, listen to me," he said, cupping her face between his hands once again, meeting her gaze in hopes she'd listen to him and understand. "They're taking him to the Lady of Avalon. She's the only one who can save him. Do you understand" They're taking him to someone who can help."

Rhys Bristol

Date: 2013-11-14 21:37 EST
Caught by her brother, Rachel turned weeping eyes onto him once again as he cradled her face, her hands rising to grip his jacket with little strength. "You don't understand," she sobbed quietly. "I promised him I wouldn't leave him, I promised he wouldn't be alone, and they're taking him away." All she could think was that Zachariel was dying, and if this Lady couldn't help him, he would die alone. She would have broken her promise to him.

Nat moved to join them, her arms pulling the warm cardigan from her own back to wrap about Rachel's shoulders. Even in Avalon, the autumn was cold. "He will not be alone, sestrenka," she promised the distraught little woman. "No one is ever alone on Avalon. We will join him, all of us." She looked to Rhys. "I do not think the Lady would deny us that."

Rhys smiled through a mist of his own tears, touched by his sister's obvious concern for her guardian. He had not failed to notice, even in the short time they'd been together, that she was in love with him. It seemed obvious to him, though he was unclear how it had happened. He pulled away a little as Nat wrapped her cardigan around his sister's shoulders, grateful and relieved for his wife's presence and gentle reassurance. "No, I'm sure she won't," he added, looking to Nat and hoping they were both right. He had taken a big risk in bringing Zachariel here, but he felt he'd had no other choice. He slid an arm around his sister's shoulders, leaving Nat on the opposite side and started after the Handmaidens who'd carried the angel away.

Rachel seemed a little reassured by the confidence with which both her brother and this other woman he had such faith in displayed, nodding through her tears as Rhys wrapped his arm about her, warmed by the woollen garment that had been wrapped about her shoulders. Without thinking, she reached to curl her fingers between those of the other woman as Rhys drew them after the Handmaidens, holding on tightly.

Nat smiled gently, tucking the younger woman's arm beneath her own, enfolding that one hand between both her palms. "I am your sister-in-law, Rachel," she introduced herself as they walked along, taking their time to accommodate Rachel's obviously painful limp. "My name is Natalya. Your brother married me, not so very long ago."

Rachel swallowed, looking up at the other woman in quiet surprise. "So ....so you're my sister, in a way?" she asked hopefully, leaning heavily into Rhys as they passed through the Temple grounds, reaching the stone steps within moments. "I'm not going back there, am I" Please don't say I have to go back."

"No, Rachel. You're safe now. You're never going back there ever again. You're not alone anymore. We're your family, Nat and I. We're going to take care of you and keep you safe," he explained, swapping a glance with Nat, a small frown on his face. As they reached the stone steps, he unwound his arm from around her shoulders, realizing she, too, was hurt, though not mortally. Her hurts seemed to go far deeper than that of physical wounds, and he could only imagine what she'd been through over the last twenty-five years. He scooped her up in his arms to carry her like a child the rest of the way.

She offered no resistence as her brother lifted her up into his arms, curling close into him. Everything she had ever known had been turned completely upside down in the space of a couple of days. She knew less now than she had before. Worse, she had no way of dealing with that, of learning how to cope with the sudden reality that was thrust upon her. Avalon was a gentle cushion between Rachel and the world she had been denied from birth. Nat didn't offer any argument to Rhys' insistence that Rachel was their responsibility, moving to follow as brother carried sister into the Temple itself. The Handmaidens were nowhere to be seen, but the Champion and the Priestess knew where they must have gone. No one but the Lady had any hope of healing someone so damaged.

He hoped he spoke for both himself and Nat when he made that promise, knowing his sister's world had been turned upside down and that all she really had for family was the two of them. She was his sister, his flesh and blood, and he couldn't, wouldn't, abandon her again now that he knew of her existence and her suffering. He was confident that between himself and Nat, she would learn to live and would eventually make a place for herself in the world, but it would take time. Still, for now, Avalon was a safe haven, and the best place for her. He only hoped the Lady would be able to help save the angel's life, or there was no telling how much further damage it might do to his sister's spirit and will to live. All these thoughts would have to wait for now, until he and Natalya had time to talk, but he hoped in his heart that they were of the same mind. He carried his sister into the temple, with Nat at his side, his own wounds a dull ache compared to the ache in his heart. ((Ta da! The big battle scene is over. The bad guys have been defeated. The heroes have saved the day. Next up, the aftermath. Humongous thanks to Nat's player for being awesome, and thanks to those who've been reading. Hope you're enjoying the story as much as we are! :grin:))