Warrior Angel Read online

  WARRIOR ANGEL

  MARGARET AND LIZZ WEIS

  To my friends,

  Beth, Kim and Kate,

  who have forever changed me for the better.

  Lizz

  Long is the way

  And hard, that out of hell leads up to light.

  John Milton, Paradise Lost, (1667)

  Bk. 2, 1. 404

  Contents

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  He sat in the antechamber, waiting to be taken into…

  One

  As he paced about the antechamber to Heaven, waiting impatiently…

  Two

  Wait for it…Wait for it…

  Three

  Saturday morning, Rachel woke to the chatter of voices coming…

  Four

  Rachel frantically rushed around her condo, throwing out newspapers, stuffing…

  Five

  Rachel was sitting at a beautifully appointed table at Charlie…

  Six

  Derek stood on the sidewalk across the street, watching Rachel’s…

  Seven

  The bell rang and trading finally halted for the day.

  Eight

  Derek came straight up to Rachel. “I need to talk…

  Nine

  The next morning Derek parked himself behind the front lobby…

  Ten

  Rachel struggled through her day in the pits. Fortunately this…

  Eleven

  Saturday morning, Rachel woke early with a mission. She would…

  Twelve

  The rain stopped as quickly as it started, though the…

  Thirteen

  Dinner with Zanus was fantastic as usual. He had rented…

  Fourteen

  A week passed. Rachel had a sick feeling in the…

  Fifteen

  “I feel a pair of deuces comin’ up next, boys!…

  Sixteen

  When Derek returned to the lobby, the night man was…

  Seventeen

  For the rest of the night, Derek struggled with the…

  Eighteen

  The next day was hell for Rachel.

  Nineteen

  Rachel was fast asleep when she heard a sound coming…

  Twenty

  Derek tried hard not to give way to despair, but…

  Twenty-one

  Seated in the limo, which she had once thought so…

  Twenty-two

  Zanus stood over Rachel’s shoulder, watching her bring up the…

  Twenty-three

  Rachel woke the next morning to find that she’d slept…

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  Other Books by Margaret and Lizz Weis

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Prologue

  He sat in the antechamber, waiting to be taken into their presence.

  He remembered another time he had sat waiting like this. It was October 13, 1307. He had been a living man, locked in a prison cell, waiting to be escorted to the Chamber of Advocacy to answer for his crimes. But he was not a criminal. He had not picked a pocket or cut someone’s throat. His crime was that he was a knight in the holy order of the Knights Templar.

  Judging by the name of the place to which he was being taken—Chamber of Advocacy—one might have assumed he and the Inquisitors would be sitting down to hold some type of polite discourse. He would be asked questions which, as a knight, he was bound to answer truthfully.

  Far from it.

  Three days they spent torturing him, using every means possible—and some of them were hideously creative—to force him to confess to crimes he had never committed. They brought him as near death as they dared, then restored him to life. Sometimes, using such techniques, the tormentors went too far and their prisoners died, their hearts giving out under the cruel abuse. Derek was then young and strong, proud and courageous, and he had lived a long time, enduring unspeakable torment, until death brought him final, blessed release.

  Derek had not, as had so many of his comrades, broken down and confessed to the crimes the Inquisitors maintained he had committed. He had done none of these terrible things. They wanted him to say that the Order was interested only in accumulating wealth, that its knights were traitors and cowards, thieves and murderers, sinners who had renounced God and worshipped the devil. Derek had refuted all of these charges, though they broke his bones and seared his flesh. He was a true knight and he believed his fellows to be true knights. He had remained faithful unto death to a cause in which he believed with all his heart and soul. He died with his faith in God unshaken.

  It was after death that Derek started to ask questions.

  After his death, his soul went to the twilight realm of Purgatory, where he waited to be judged worthy of admittance to the Blessed Realm. In Purgatory, Derek saw Truth, as all men and women see Truth when their days on Earth are accomplished. He saw Truth and the young knight, now one of God’s angels, was shocked and angered.

  Derek saw the Knights of the Templar fall into the dust. The knights were not brought down by Lucifer and his Dark Angels who were the knights’ sworn, eternal enemies, but by the machinations of corrupt and clever men. Derek saw some of his comrades wilt at merely the thought of torture and eagerly confess to terrible crimes in order to save their own skins. He saw the Knights Templar end up in ruin and disgrace, their noble deeds of heroism and valor for gotten.

  Derek saw all this and he could not believe it. He himself had never done such horrible deeds. He did not believe that his comrades could do them. There could be only one answer. God had forsaken the Templars. God had forgotten those who died in His Name, defending His pilgrims.

  Waiting in Purgatory, Derek received another summons. He was brought before the archangels who were considering his admittance into the Blessed Realm of Heaven. He watched other angels go before him. They dropped to their knees in reverence, begged forgiveness for their sins, and were welcomed into God’s presence with understanding. The archangels embraced them and carried them into a beautiful eternity.

  When it was Derek’s turn, he did not kneel. He did not confess his sins. He stood tall and proud, a true knight, and confronted the Angels of Light in anger.

  “You saw the suffering I was made to endure,” he told them. “I kept faith with God. Why did God forsake me?”

  “No mortal can fathom the mind of God,” the archangel told him gently. “Know that He loves you.”

  “Love!” Derek cried, anger swelling inside him. “Where was His love for me when I was being tortured for my faith? What does He know of love?”

  “What do you know of love, Derek?” asked the archangel.

  Derek thought the question flippant. He was a warrior, a holy knight who had chosen valor and glory in battle above love. Love made a man weak, caused his sword arm to falter in the midst of a fight.

  “Did you fight evil for God’s glory, Derek, or for your own? Did you truly put your faith in God or in men? Was your sacrifice made for love of God and your fellow men or out of false pride in yourself? You must ask yourself these questions, Derek,” the archangel said to him and his tone was not angry, but soft with sorrow. “You cannot enter the Blessed Realm with a heart full of rage.”

  “I do not want to enter,” said Derek defiantly, but even as he spoke, he saw the glittering gates closing against him, shutting him out. He was tempted for a moment to beg forgiveness, but he was too proud. And he was too angry.

  “I would still serve God,” he told the archangels. “For I am a true knight and I would yet fight for His cause.”

  “You will be sent back to Purgatory, Derek,” said the archangels. “There you will join the brave soldiers wh
o wage eternal war against Lucifer and the Angels of Darkness who seek to undermine Heaven and bring mankind to ruin and destruction. It is our hope and prayer that you will come at last to understanding.”

  Derek hoped so, too, though he did not think it possible. God was the one who had to be made to understand. Derek accepted the angel’s judgment and returned to Purgatory.

  Derek was accoutered in the shining armor given to God’s holy warriors. He held in his hands a sword of flame and carried a shield of honor and righ teousness. He joined other men and women in the battle to drive back the archfiends of Hell, who came creeping and slithering up from the fiery depths, trying to destroy the angels who waged eternal war against them, protecting humanity as best they could from the forces of evil.

  Unfortunately, the forces of darkness are powerful and men—and sometimes angels—are weak.

  One day, as Derek was resting on the field of battle, weary from the day’s fighting, the Dark Angels came to him. He was used to seeing them in their demonic form, their faces hideous and twisted with hatred and envy; their limbs contorted, their skin burnt and charred. He did not at first recognize these for what they were, for they wore pleasing forms. He soon came to know them, however.

  “Derek,” they said to him in sultry voices, “we see the anger inside you. Come join with us. You do not belong here, fighting God’s battles when He cares nothing for you. He is merely using you. Join our war and help us overthrow God and set King Lucifer in His place. You will stand in the place of honor beside Lucifer’s throne and be one of his commanders.”

  “My quarrel is between myself and God. I may have lost my faith in Him, but I still believe in good and in righ teousness. I would never consider joining the cause of evil,” Derek told them. “I died a man of honor and I will remain true to myself.”

  “The time will come when you will be sorry, Derek,” the archfiends warned him. “God has forsaken you once. He will do so again.”

  Derek drew his sword and, at the sight of the blazing white fire, the archfiends vanished.

  Derek remained in Purgatory for centuries, fighting alongside his comrades, other souls not yet ready to enter Heaven. He was proud of his work. His flaming sword and shining shield kept the Darkness at bay. If, sometimes, after a terrible battle, he recalled his glimpse of the beauty and peace of the Blessed Realm and he found himself longing to go there to rest, he would remember his own torment and his heart would harden. He fought on.

  And then this day, in a new century just begun, a century numbered 2000, came the summons. The Angels of Light wanted to speak to him concerning a special assignment.

  Derek proudly put on the white tabard marked with the red cross of the Order of Knights of the Templar over his shining armor, and left the battlefield to answer the summons.

  One

  As he paced about the antechamber to Heaven, waiting impatiently for the angels to summon him into their presence, Derek could look out the doors into the twilight world of Purgatory. The realm existed in a perpetual red haze, for the sun never rose here, the sun never set. As there was no day, there was no night. Purgatory was a battlefield, where some of those souls who were not deemed ready to enter Heaven continued to serve God by voluntarily helping to fight the eternal battle against the Dark Angel, Lucifer, and his archfiends.

  The battles were terrible, for the archfiends fought with weapons of hideous make and design. Derek bore the scars of his many wounds proudly. He was a valiant soldier and, due to his valor, he was rewarded by being given the honor of commanding a legion of holy warriors. His deeds of courage were legendary among the warrior-angels of Purgatory. Undoubtedly this was why he’d been summoned to appear before his superiors. The archangels must have some special assignment for him.

  He had heard rumors that the battle between good and evil had not been going all that well of late. Some even whispered that the Angels of Light were losing the war. Certainly, the archfiends and their demons who fought the holy warriors in Purgatory were becoming more confident, more aggressive. They attacked in greater numbers and it was all Derek and his warriors could do to shove them back into the Veil of Darkness from whence they sprang.

  Rumor had it that the Dark Angels had developed a new tactic. They were fighting the battle on two fronts. They continued to try to take Heaven by storm, to overwhelm and destroy the holy warrior-angels and seize Heaven by force. In addition, however, they were attempting to defeat Heaven through more subtle ploys and schemes.

  Derek had never before listened to such rumors. A true knight paid no heed to gossip mongers. Dark rumors such as these undermined the morale of his troops. As the battles they fought grew more and more difficult and dangerous every day, Derek could not help but wonder if there might not be some truth in what his comrades were saying.

  He was thinking of this and thinking, too, that he should be out on the field with his men, not cooling his heels in some fancy antechamber, when he heard voices. Derek ceased his pacing. The voices were coming from the realm of his superiors. He could hear them through the gate that was only partially closed.

  The cherubim are the “gate-keepers” of the Realm of Heaven, responsible for opening and closing the astral gates that divide one realm from another. They are also heavenly messengers and in this instance, a cherub, a bright and ambitious young angel named Sampson, had been sent onto the field of battle to fetch Derek and, in his excitement, had apparently failed to close and seal the gate.

  Derek frowned and shook his head. Sampson was a Moorish prince, who had died during the twelfth century when he wandered off into the desert and became lost. Sampson had always longed to be a holy warrior. He was continually coming to Derek, begging him to allow him to enter the ranks of the soldiers of Purgatory. The cherubim was eager and enthusiastic and his courage was unquestioned, but he had a tendency to be scatterbrained and undisciplined. Forgetting to shut the astral gate between the realms was a prime example.

  Derek was not one to eavesdrop, for he considered the practice dishonorable and beneath him. He could not help overhearing the conversation his superiors were holding, however. He could hear the two archangels speaking clearly.

  He was about to interrupt them, inform them that the astral gate had been left open, and offer to shut the door for them, when he realized that they were discussing him.

  “Are you certain Sir Derek de Molay is the right man for this, William?” The angel speaking was the Archangel Michael, the Supreme Commander of the forces of Purgatory. Derek did not know the other angel, the one called William.

  “He was a Knight Templar, Archangel,” this William angel replied. “He died a martyr defending his faith. He is a gallant warrior who has served with distinction through the centuries. Sir Derek is known for his courage, his strength, and fortitude—”

  “He is also known for his rebellious and hot-headed nature,” the Archangel Michael said grimly. “De Molay is one of the few souls who has actually chosen to remain in Purgatory rather than repent his sins and gain admittance to Heaven.”

  William brushed it off. “Yes, I know all about his battle with God. Had a few battles with the old boy myself in my day—”

  “Angel William,” the Archangel rebuked. “We do not speak of the Heavenly Father as ‘the old boy.’”

  “Oh, He understands,” said William with enthusiasm. “God and I are great friends. He’s a hell of a backgammon player.”

  “What did you say, William?” Michael asked, shocked.

  “Oops. I beg your pardon, Archangel. I mean to say: God is a very good backgammon player.”

  Derek smiled to himself and forgot all about the fact that he was listening to a conversation he should not have been. He wondered where they’d dredged up Angel William.

  “I have to admit that de Molay’s in de pen dent spirit is what led us to choose him for this task,” said Archangel Michael. “Though I still have my doubts.”

  “It makes him human,” said William enthusiastically
. “Trust me, he will blend in nicely. I should know. I was on Earth myself once.”

  “Yes, indeed,” said Archangel Michael in frozen tones. “We all know how well that turned out. We are not accustomed to having to post bail for one of our own. It was quite upsetting.”

  “All a mistake,” said William. “I went into that Chicago speakeasy to try to persuade this extremely nice but very naive young Kansas farm girl who was dancing there that she would never make it big and to go back home. I was not in-formed that Eliot Ness was planning to raid the place that very night.”

  “You were caught playing roulette,” said the archangel accusingly.

  “I had to act my part, didn’t I?” Michael defended himself. “And I saved the girl. She went back to Kansas and got married and had twelve children.” He sighed. “I don’t think she ever forgave me.”

  “This isn’t about you, William, in case you’ve forgotten,” said Michael sternly. “We’re discussing de Molay and our plans for him.”

  Derek scowled. He didn’t like the way this conversation was tending. This sounded like one of God’s plans to try to teach the obdurate knight yet another lesson in humility and love, patience, mercy, and compassion.

  He thought back to the time when he’d been a living man and failed to obey his superior’s order to retreat during a desperate battle. The truth was that the fool man had panicked and, if Derek had obeyed his command, the battle would have been lost. As it was, Derek and his men ignored the order and held their position. They kept the enemy from breaking through the lines, and eventually reinforcements arrived to save the day. Derek had been in the right and his superior in the wrong, yet the high command had wanted Derek to apologize—a lesson in obedience. He refused and the matter had finally been settled by a joust between the two knights, during which Derek had knocked the man from his horse.