The Heart of Death

By E A Rewald and G J Massengale

Forbidden! Forbidden! The words play over and over in Sariel’s mind as he kisses Amelia deeply. Sariel’s job as the Angel of Death is to witness and judge souls, helping them move to the afterlife. It’s not to fall in love with a human.

Amelia had been trying to put her life back together and take care of her younger brother Ethan after the death of their parents. And suddenly Sariel came into her life and she has never felt passion like she shares with him. But Sariel isn’t the only supernatural being interested in Amelia, and their love will have to wait.

With the help of the Ethereal Bulwark, an ancient organization created by fallen angels known as Watchers, and his angelic friend Karael, Sariel must protect Amelia from the relentless demonic legions charged with bringing her to their master. For if the evil is successful, it not only spells the end for Amelia and the angels, but the entire world itself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E A Rewald
• Release date: Jun 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311208507

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The Heart of Death

By E. A. Rewald / G. J. Massengale

Copyright 2014 E A Rewald / G. J. Massengale

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CHAPTER 1

Bright sunlight hits Susan’s eyelids and even though she has not opened her eyes yet, she feels the warmth of the sun beams on her face and across her blanket. Mornings are always the best. It’s when she feels the most alive and energized. They are even better when she wakes up before her mom. Before she has to look into the eyes of masked sadness.

Mom tries very hard to hide her grief but it’s there, never really gone. Sometimes it’s almost a competition on who is pretending that nothing bad is going on. Mom trying to put on her happy brave face for Susan or Susan acting as if she is a normal eight year old that is not sick and weak from the treatments.

Without wanting to wait any further, Susan quickly opens her eyes. The morning sun that has penetrated the window blinds causes her eyes to uncontrollably blink as they try to adjust to the lighting. As soon as she can focus, Susan looks around the room. Mom is never far away. Sometimes she is asleep in the chair with a thin, scratchy brown blanket or on more upsetting, worrisome nights, she is draped across the bed as if she could use her body as a shield. That is how Susan finds her this morning, with a brown blanket cape and still sound asleep.

Susan looks down at her mom, the worry from the night has taken its toll on her and she looks more dead than asleep. Susan knows that her time with her mom is coming to an end and wishes so much for her mom to accept her death as she has done. Susan isn’t afraid of death anymore. That being said, she isn’t ready to welcome it either. She knows it will come for her and when it does, she will go willingly but she will miss her mom.

The window, which is at the foot of her bed, is the current goal. For the last couple of weeks, this is how she has set goals, not in terms of weekly or daily targets but by achievements that can be measured in minutes or even feet. While the goal of the window may seem small to most, Susan’s weakened state has left her without the strength to walk but the desire to look out the window is powerful. A commando type crawl will enable her to reach her objective without waking up her mother.

Inch by inch, Susan makes it to the window. The chore has left her out of breath and she takes a moment to let it catch up. As she does this, she adjusts her IV line and the different wires that seem to measure every possible body function. She is somewhat surprised that her exertion to the window hasn’t caused a nurse to come and check. With everything situated, Susan can finally look out. She places each of her tiny hands on the window and presses her forehead against the glass.

The world looks different to her now than it did six months ago. Everything has taken on a beauty that only comes when you know you will not be able to see it again. The colors either look more vivid and bright or more deep and rich. Sounds seem to work together as if they are all instruments in a worldly orchestra. Even people are different. Susan doesn’t see strangers anymore. She doesn’t see doctors or nurses; she sees the beauty of being human.

Susan looks out upon the world that she can now only see from behind glass. She is thankful that not only did she get to have a window room but it also faced the front of the hospital. The hospital has a long half circle drive that allows cars to drop off people at the front doors. These are not sick people like her but rather visitors and staff. Between the drive and the sidewalk, there is a lovely garden, with green grassy patches and many flowerbeds. A path winds and branches through this garden and every so often has a wooden bench.

The path through the flowers is Susan’s favorite viewing target. In the morning, the benches usually have some sort of medical person sitting down, drinking a coffee and enjoying the morning sun. Maybe a mom or dad on their phone giving an update on a loved one to the rest of the family. She can’t decide which she likes better, the vivid flowers or the people watching.

On this particular morning, there are three people on the trail. The first is wearing the white coat that is a trademark for a doctor or lab worker. It is an older man, maybe in his fifties, short and round with black glasses framing his face. He is sipping on a coffee and reading his tablet. As Susan looks at him, she decides he is a lonely man, with only his work in his life and he is a doctor, definitely. The second person is a woman in her early twenties, currently on her phone. She walks the path and stops every now and then to touch and smell the flowers. She has a big bright smile and her face is radiant and joyful. Susan decides this is a girlfriend with her boyfriend here. Treatments are going well and there is good news to start the day for this woman. Susan moves along to the third person. This is a male, in his mid-twenties, he does not have a coffee or a phone, and he’s just sitting down looking out over the garden with nothing particular in view. While he doesn’t overly have any expression, he has a kind face with short dark wavy brown hair. As Susan tries to figure out his story, he slowly tilts his head up and she knows that he is looking at her. He is the reason she was drawn to the window this morning and she now knows it.

Susan, honey, what are you doing? a barely awake mom asks.

I’m watching that man down there. Susan’s tiny little girl voice answers back.

Mom stretches and moans as she tries to wake up not only her mind but her body. Sleeping hunched over a bed or in a hard rigid chair has taken its toll on her body and she feels it every morning as she tries to make it move and bend to her command.

After a good stretch, mom looks long and hard at her daughter. Susan, still in the window mesmerized by whatever activity was taking place, looks better than she had in days. Better but not like the Susan she was months ago. Here was a child, thin and frail. Her beautiful long blond hair only a memory kept alive by pictures. Her arms and legs looked more like bones with skin stretched and wrapped over them than actual limbs on a person. Her emerald green eyes, although currently alive and watchful, still were hollowed shells of their former glory and her cheeks that were once full and round now sunken. She looked more like a marionette at the window with her gaunt look and wires everywhere than an eight year old child that was full of life and energy. The chemotherapy treatment for the cancer has overtaken the life of her little girl.

Mom gets up and walks over to Susan for her morning kiss and hug. It is how they have started the day for as long as Susan can remember and even now, in the hospital, it hasn’t changed. Susan looks forward to this every morning and will miss it dearly when she is gone.

Afterwards mom heads into the restroom to freshen up. She looks at her morning face in the mirror. It had been months since she wore make-up. It seemed a pointless task as the tears would streak it and she looked more clownish than good-looking. It was a constant battle to keep it nice as every time she left Susan’s room the tears would flow freely as if a dam broke loose. That was one thing she vowed to herself, do not let Susan see her cry. She was sure that Susan knew she had cried but to her credit, she never said anything and let her mom have that victory. Mom washed her hands then cupped them so that they would fill with warm water. She buried her face into the water, not only to wash away the morning sleep that didn’t want to depart but also to cleanse the room and sickness that was consuming her daughter. Rooting around in her purse produced a small hair brush that quickly went through her shoulder length straight hair. Nothing fancy as style would go, again it was more for convenience than looks. Lastly a toothbrush case and trail size toothpaste came out for the final morning hygiene.

Mom, now out of the bathroom, turns to address Susan. Susan, why don’t you lie back down? I would like to go and get my morning coffee and don’t want to worry about you falling while I’m away.

Susan looks disappointed to have to leave her window perch but obeys her mom’s request. She knows that it is more than just coffee that her mom is about to undertake. This is when dad will get the update on how the evening went. This is when the doctors will update her on how the treatment is going. This has been the morning ritual for quite some time now and upon her return, mom will pretend to call dad for the first time today and he and Susan will get to speak.

Mom helps Susan lie down and kisses her forehead. I won’t be gone long, depends on the line. Susan knows this isn’t the truth. It has more to do with the length of the conversations but doesn’t let on that she knows the secret. Right now, her mind is too distracted by the man on the bench. She knows that he is here to see her but is trying to fully understand how she knows it. Take your time mom. I’ll be here waiting for you. Susan replies.

Mom walks out of the room and down the hall towards the elevators. On the way she passes the nurses’ stations and they exchange good mornings. The elevator isn’t there, like usual and she must press the button and wait. She takes a glancing look back in the direction of her daughter’s room and narrows her brows with concern and worry. The bell dings indicating the arrival of the elevator and she returns her attention back to her task at hand.

The doors open and Mom pauses as if she can’t go through this ritual again but somehow finds the strength to walk into this box. Her attention turns to her purse as she looks for her cell phone to make her morning call to her husband. Across from her in the elevator is the younger man from the bench. He studies her every movement and the expression on her face, wishing he could actually take the burden of sadness from her even if for a moment. I’m sorry, he says. There will be no response, he knows this. Not that she wouldn’t have anything to say but rather her inability to actually see and hear him. She looks up and realizes that she hasn’t made a selection from the array of buttons on the panel in front of her. She slowly moves her arm up and presses the L button for the lobby. The doors start to close but before they can complete their actions they spring back open and Mom looks to see who will be joining her for the ride. Oddly as she looks out of the steel box, there is nobody there. The man is now outside the elevator looking in at her, the doors perform their closing action this time and Mom departs for the lobby.

It is a short walk down the hall to Susan’s room and he quietly enters to find the little girl laying down watching morning cartoons. Humans always look delicate to him but the sick ones, ones like Susan, ones that have a frail even breakable look about them take on a tortured soul quality.

Susan looks up and asks, What is your name?

My name is Sariel. he says in a quiet voice. It was a low deep voice that even though he spoke softly, commanded your attention and respect but at the same time gave you peace.

I saw you outside on the bench and I knew you were coming to see me but I have never met you before. Susan said matter-of-factly.

Do you know why I’m here Susan? Sariel questions her. Children were always more perceptive than adults and the more that humans would realize on their own only made his job easier. He watched her as she looked into his greenish blue eyes. She was sizing him up and he knew it. She was a smart little girl and showed no fear of him or his task, if she did indeed realize why he was visiting her.

Susan lets out a big sigh. A sigh that seemed far too large for a healthy eight year old let alone her. You’re here to help me die aren’t you? You are an angel. I am not afraid to die.

Sariel smiles warmly at Susan, Yes, you are correct. I am here to help your physical body release your soul. You will not be sick anymore and all of your pain will be gone. When you are ready to begin, you may take my hand.

Sariel quietly and quickly traverses the space between the door and Susan’s bedside. He holds out his open hand, palm upwards waiting for Susan to place her hand into it. Susan looks at it and back up at him, Does that mean if I don’t take your hand I won’t die?

I thought you said you weren’t afraid.

I’m not. I’m afraid that my mom will not understand. Susan says with sadness in her voice.

Taking my hand is only one part in the process. It will allow us to look upon your life and see the deeds that you have done. These deeds will give me an indication on the final resting place for your soul. You will still be alive. Sariel explains to Susan.

Susan’s boney little fingers reach up and grasp Sariel’s hand. Her fingers are so small that his hand engulfs hers. Sariel gives Susan a comforting smile but as he looks into her eyes realizes that she doesn’t need reassuring. She is indeed not afraid, not of him, the angel of death, nor of death itself. It is rare to find humans who are this accepting because fear is always there, fear of the unknown, fear that dying will be painful, fear of him, fear of having their life judged, fear of going to Hell, one aspect or another there is almost always fear.

Susan looks away from Sariel’s eyes only to see that she is not in the hospital any more. Her elementary school stands before them and children, parents, and school staff are all around but unaware of the pair. Susan sees her reflection in a classroom window, she reaches up and feels her hair and touches her face which is no longer gaunt but rather full and healthy. Her and her reflection exchange a smile before returning to the school’s grounds.

Look, there I am with my mom! Susan shouts with excitement.

Skipping up the path is a younger Susan holding hands with her mother. She is adorn in a new outfit of fresh blue jeans, a pink t-shirt with flowers bursting in random spots and a pink hoodie to keep her warm in the fall morning air. Her hair is in pigtails and strapped to her back is a new bright pink backpack. The excitement on Susan’s face is hard to miss and she actually looks like she could spring the last twenty feet of the path in one bound.

It’s my first day of Kindergarten, Susan giggles to Sariel. I loved school so much. I miss it.

The ghostly pair follow Susan and her mom into the school, down a short hall, around a corner to the second door on the left. It’s Mrs. Reeddle’s classroom and there are students already in the room sitting down Indian style on a throw rug in the front. A couple of students, like Susan, are still in the hall saying goodbye to their parents. Susan’s mom kneels down, Susan, I will be here when school gets out. Don’t worry or be afraid. I will be here.

Mom, I know and I want you to know that I will be right here waiting for you, so please don’t worry. Susan explains this to her mom with a supportive look on her face.

Mom laughs, Oh Susan, you are wise beyond your years. I love you. Mom gives Susan a kiss on her cheek, stands up and heads back the way she came. Before rounding the corner, she turns and gives Susan a wave good-bye and smile. Susan waves back and then motions for her mom to be gone.

Susan turns to go into the room but her attention is caught by a little boy, crying to his parents, pleading them not to leave him. She watches as they try to explain it will alright. Susan takes a step closer to the room but pauses and realigns her direction to the little boy.

Hello, my name is Susan. It’s my first day too.

Go away the boy loudly tells Susan.

Chase Aaron Paxton! his mother says in a stern voice.

Chase lowers his eyes to the ground knowing that his full name is only used when his mother is really upset with him. It seems silly that she is mad with him when he is the one being force to stay here. Knowing that his response was not acceptable, he wipes away the tears which leave wet streaks on his cheeks and snuffs back his nose prior to turning around to face this Susan with a mother approved reply.

My name is Chase.

Susan takes Chase by the hand, Want to be friends Chase? I would like us to be best friends. Come on, let‘s go inside and find a spot where we can sit together A calm descends over Chase and before he knows it, he is lead away, into the classroom where they find room on the carpet to sit and talk. Chase’s parents peek into the room astonished by change that has happened to their son. Chase looks up, sees his parents and waves to them.

That’s my friend Chase. We have been best friends since the first day of school. He is coming to the hospital to see me on Saturday. Susan explains to Sariel. Why did you show me this?

The parents you see there adopted him when he was a year old. Chase was abandoned as a baby, left to die inside a plastic bag and placed inside a dumpster. The lack of love his birth mother had for him wounded his very soul. You have a loving nature about you Susan. Chase could feel it when you took his hand. With that simple touch and offer of friendship you gave Chase his ability to love and trust again. You healed the wound. Chase’s soul is whole again and with that he has strength.

I did all of that? Susan inquires.

Yes Susan, some of humanity’s greatest acts of compassion are just but a few seconds in time, but, those few seconds can change a life. You didn’t ignore the upset boy that was there, you reached out to him in a way you could never have known or understood at the time.

Susan is filled with love; it is a love that reaches deep inside her. It was as if she had never felt love before and realizes that this is the change that Chase went through. This is how he now felt love and she was proud to have been a part of it.

Now gaze into my eyes again, we have another event to see, Sariel commands.

Susan does as she is asked and immediately knows that the school has fallen away and she is now somewhere else not only in location but in time as well. She looks around and sees her home, her kitchen to be precise. She sees herself standing on a chair that has been pushed against