Another Wednesday. Another week gone and it's been a strange on with highs and lows. Still moving forward positively but with thoughtfulness. This week I chose the picture prompt. I was intending to put it in a lot earlier but Pasha hung around inside too long :)
“Sir, if you’d just….”
“Get your hands off me.” Pasha pushed the angel away from him, trying to get to the door.
“Please, Sir, come with us.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m staying right here with my—“ Pasha broke off. His what? Not his soulmate. Not anymore. He’d felt the bond break. He’d wanted it to and now it wasn’t there anymore. There was a huge void inside him and it was unendurable. “No. Uzzy. No.” Waves of pain swept over him, worse than any Micha’el could have inflicted. He was gone. Uzzy was gone and Pasha wasn’t going to rest until he was back again.
With a low growl, Pasha headed for the door, trying to push aside the angels who stood between him and his destination.
A grip like iron around his arm pulled him up short. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you do that.”
Pasha whirled and glared at the angel who held him. He looked about fourteen with the sweetest face and huge, innocent eyes. Innocent? The front of his armour was encrusted with blood and gore. He was no mascot. He was a fighter. Still, Pasha struggled.
“Let me go.”
“Yes, you can. It’s easy. Uncurl your fingers and move your hand away. Then move yourself away and let me get the hell out of here.”
“For sure, Sir. That’s exactly what we’re trying to do. Get you the hell out of here.”
“I’m not going with you. I’m going after him.”
“I’m sorry I can’t--.”
“Can’t what? Allow it? Dream on.”
Pasha fought to tear his arm out of the angel’s grip but he might as well have banged his head against the wall.
Rage and helplessness flowed through him. Uzzy was out there – fighting, maybe dying, and Pasha was here with this fool, trapped and… The empty space inside him roiled and burned and he thrust everything he had into it, searching, grabbing, holding…loving. “Uzzi’el,” he whispered and an enormous outpouring of love almost knocked him off his feet. The joy he felt at the re-forging of their bond was indescribable, almost unbearable.
Pasha could feel the joy coursing through Uzzi’el too. Joy and love and—
“No.” Pasha’s struggles grew desperate. Something was wrong. Something was wrong with Uzzi’el. He was in pain. Thrashing wildly Pasha did everything he could to break free. Two other angels joined in and pinned him between them.
“Calm down. We’ll take you to safety.”
“No. You don’t understand. He’s in trouble. Uzzi’el’s in trouble. He’s hurt. Let me go to him. Please.”
“It is better we take you to safety so he won’t have to worry about you.”
“Don’t tell me what Uzzi’el worries about or what he wants. He’s my mate and I know what he feels. I know—“
If the angels hadn’t been holding him up he’d have fallen to his knees from the pain that punched into his stomach.
“It was a trap,” he gasped. “Micha’el’s withdrawal was a trick. It drew them into a trap. Please. Just… please. He’s going to kill him. Micha’el’s going to kill him.”
The angels exchanged uneasy glances. The one who’d first grabbed Pasha shook his head. “Then even more should we follow the instructions of Lord Uzzi’el and get his…mate, to safety.”
“No.” Panic ripped through him, a fear worse than any he had ever known. Part of it was Uzzi’el’s. He could feel his mate’s terror at whatever it was that faced him. Even so, he knew Uzzi’el was facing it with his head high. Micha’el was hurting him…for sport. The pain he was feeling was not from any kind of battle wound. It was quick, bright, intense pain from blows and twists and…. No. He didn’t want to think about what Michael was doing. He wanted to be there. To see it. To stop it.
But. But he. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t get free. Free.
Something was happening. Everything was slowing down. Time was draining away. Weeks. Days. Hours. Minutes. Seconds. And stop.
Pasha was nowhere. There was darkness. There was stillness. There was silence. No, not silence. Whispering. He was whispering words, over and over, like a prayer. He had no idea what they were, what they meant or why he was saying them. He just kept repeating over and over and…
Something came out of the darkness, a bright white light in the shape of angel with wings of flame. As the angel of light drew closer Pasha’s voice grew louder, the words more emphatic, pouring out of him like a molten river, feeding the golden image in front of him. Until it stopped.
The angel was close enough to touch with eyes that burned into his soul but no features he could see.
“Who are you?”
“Who are you?” The angel had no voice as such, and yet he heard.
“Are you going to repeat everything I say?”
“Who are you?”
“I am you.”
“Me? I don’t understand. Where are we?”
“We are you.”
“I don’t… Okay, I don’t understand but I don’t have time to play games. What’s going on?”
“We are you, Pasha. I am you. You are you. We are you.”
“Are you trying to tell me you’re part of me?”
“I am you.”
“Can I become you?”
“I am you.”
“Goddamn it.” Pasha reached out and grabbed the angel by the hand. Fire rushed up his arm and tore through his body. There was a feeling as if he was being catapulted through time and space and then he was back and the angels were scuttling away from him. Everything looked different through the flames in his eyes and the burning wings that flowed behind him felt strange.
“Get out of my way,” Pasha said. Not only did the angels throw themselves out of his way, the rickety old door in the white wall of the building exploded into toothpicks.
I hope you enjoyed that. Now go and check out the excellent work of my fellow flashers, produced only for you
And just a reminder that my new book Fallen Angel is to be released on 25th January