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Jarrett the dreamer

     Jarrett sat upright in his hotel room bed. The dream about an angelic battle during World War II woke him from an unsound sleep.  It was a dream he wouldn’t soon forget.  His pulse raced when he saw the Angels battle, as if he had something to do with the female with black wings who had lost.  He wanted to help the woman. Something inside of him made him feel protective toward her, a feeling he had never felt about any woman before.

     When she dove, he felt the wind against his own face.  When she went to parry her opponent’s blade, he felt anticipation.  When her wing had been injured, he wanted to step in and fight for her.

      The woman with black wings intrigued him.  He saw her determination during the battle.  He now looked back at the dream, and thought about her.  The angel with black wings had the finest figure Jarrett had ever seen.  She had wings, which was odd, and he was dreaming about World War II, but . . .  something made his pulse race when watching her.

     Now he sat there in bed, his mind had forced him to wake up at 2:00am on a Tuesday morning, he had only a few more hours of sleep before his workday started.

     He laid his head back down on the pillow, maybe he was being a bit fanciful, it was just a dream after all.  He lay there thinking a little bit more about the dream before drifting off to sleep.  Another dream a bit more pleasant than the first came to him.

A Predictin

“I must tell you this, so listen closely.”  The older woman said, her eyes glazed over as if in a trance, “What if there was a life you could not let go of, a man whom you would give your life for but his abilities make him a threat to human and Daeva history.”

     “There would be no such man,” Irti replied.

     “But there is and you will find him irresistible.  His wit and caring nature, will be for you.  He will calm the rage burning in your soul.”  The older woman paused briefly, “What are you willing to give up for your true mate?”

     “If I am understanding you correctly, I will love a human?”

     “Yes,” What a simple answer from the woman’s mouth. 

     Irti got up from where she was sitting.  “I think I will wait by the door.”

     “What bothers you so?”  The older woman asked. 

     “You, to think I will love a mortal, a human, preposterous.”  Irti turned.  “Mind yourself old woman.  For what you say will get me banished from my people.”

     “If that is your choice, then make it.  Happiness is fleeting, don’t throw it away with both hands when offered.”

     A chill went up Irti’s spine. Maybe the woman was right.

Time for Tea

     The older woman took the tray over to the corner of the room and set it down on a table covered with multiple scarves of various layers.  “Please come and sit.  Sip some tea while you wait.”  The older woman sat in the corner, then gestured to a chair across from her. 

     Irti took her seat.  She watched the older woman pour the dark liquid of the Russian Tea.  The smell of oranges, cinnamon and nutmeg permeated the area.  Silence hung between the two women as Irti sipped her tea.  Then, she placed the teacup on the table.  “You did not answer my previous question, you just repeated a history that was drummed into my head when I was a wingling.”

     The older gypsy woman smiled, “The safe house has always been my home.”

     “Oh, I apologize.”  Irti gave a slightly guilty look.  She picked up her tea cup to sip some more of the delicious tea. 

     The older woman sat for a moment then said, completely out of the blue, “You have not a mate?”

     “How?  Well, I have dated many of my peers but none approve of my career choice being a protector of humans.  Many thought that job was clearly for males.”  She did not know why she divulged so much information, she felt safe with this human.

     The older woman smiled at her in a knowing way, “A fatherless daughter following in the unknown father’s footsteps.  You think you need to be him?”

     “No, I just think it is wrong to save people who should not be saved.  The last man who was supposed to be assassinated and was rescued, whom I failed to prevent interference from the Ahriman, caused the Jacobin Revolution, the bloody phase of the French revolution.” Irti said in disgust, “That one human caused even more deaths.”

Sanctuary

She looked up.  She was half way around the building.  The darkness and pouring rain obscured her view.  The sanctuary was across the side courtyard under a Paris manhole, but she still needed to see her father before she left the protective side of the building.  A bolt of lightning illuminated the sky.  He was there above her head pointing toward the place she needed to find.

     Her father sat where he had fallen to an Ahriman.  He was a stone statue, what the human world called a gargoyle.  Tears welled up in Irti’s eyes, she knew he had been transformed to stone by a grievous injury.

     She cursed the Ahriman that gave her the injury she suffered now.  She had not completed her mission.  Now, she knew it would be a long time before she would get her next assignment.

     She walked across the courtyard toward the manhole cover that hid the sanctuary.  She got to the cover only to see a light from a slightly open doorway.  A short stout woman hung just outside the open door.  “Daeva, I need you to come to me.”

     Irti barely heard the woman.  The rain and wind obscured much of the sound.  “I must find my own kind.”  She shouted back at the older woman.

     The woman ignored her, motioning with an arm for Irti to walk forward.  Irti did, for some reason the older human made her feel safe.  There were some humans who knew of her kind and helped.  Maybe the older woman was one who knew. 

     A shiver raced up Irti’s spine as she approached the woman.  The woman opened the door wider to a lushly decorated space.  Some tables were scattered about full of Notre Dame memorabilia. The shop also smelled like freshly made Russian Tea.  A tea with a hint of oranges.  Very rare at this moment in time, at least rare in Paris.  Irti walked over to a little table in the back of the store.

     “Your kind will be here shortly to take you home.”  The woman stated.  This time Irti got a good look at the flamboyantly dressed woman.  The woman wore a purple skirt that fell to the floor.  She had a red patterned scarf tied around her waist.  Her shirt was a simple white peasant blouse that was slightly off the shoulder.  Her peppered black and white hair was tied up under a brown kerchief. 

     “What do you know about my kind?”  Irti asked. 

     “Young woman please sit down.  As you know, my people traveled great distances across Asia and Europe to settle in the large cities.  My people know a great deal about this world and the next.  You are from a place we humans have never seen before.  One group, the Ahriman, meddle in human affairs.  The other group, the Daeva, stays out of human affairs and tries to prevent the Ahriman from interfering.  The two halves of your culture have been at war since before civilization started.”  The older woman ended her commentary.  Irti watched her leave the front of the shop. 

     The older woman came back with a tray filled with two cups, a streaming hot tea pot, with a couple of cucumber sandwiches.    The aroma of the tea assailed Irti’s nostrils.  She started to feel as if she had not drunk anything for days.   

Finding Sanctuary

The consequences of the injury did not escape her notice.  Her wing started to stiffen; this arthritic pain was the first sign to any Daeva that their person was being taken by stone.  She pushed up off of the sand.

     Irti looked at the half stormy sky.  The sun happened to be behind her.  The storm ahead of her could be a flight problem.  She had to try.

     Opening her wings she awkwardly entered the air.  She felt like an albatross; a big bird that had to run and flop into the air.  When she was in the air, she could not keep her balance very well.  It was sheer will that kept her aloft.  The storm still raged above her.

     Somehow she made the short distance to Paris.  At that time Paris was under a curfew.  Residents had to be home from their various jobs at a specific time due to the German occupation.

     Crossing Paris had its risks.  “Come on girl, you can do it,” Irti cheered herself on.  She pulled herself upright tucking her wing as gently as she could behind her back.  She had to make it to Notre Dame.  Around there was a safe home, where individuals would help her get home.

     She inched her way along the streets of Paris ducking into the shadows when she saw a German patrol.  For heart pounding moments she feared being found.  Germans shot first then asked questions later, only because this was a time of curfew.  Irti knew she took a great risk coming to the occupied city. 

     Death is a fate immortals don’t really face.  It simply did not happen.  But for a small few, when a time of conflict happens and severe injury occurs, the immortal turns to stone.  Irti stood at the base of Notre Dame, panting and injured.  She bent her wing again, and she felt it stiffen.  She knew she needed to find help. 

     She looked up at the stone building, then walked toward it. She went around to the side of the building.  Touching the cold stone of the grand cathedral she prayed, “Please let the sanctuary still be there.”  

Fleeing from the fight

Her heart fell as she saw who had sliced her wingtip off.  Daryush hovered above her, a cruel smile on his face.    

     She barely recovered from the fall.  She heard the laughter of the two Ahriman behind her as she only just kept herself from touching the volatile waters of the English Channel.  She reached land twenty minutes later. 

     She flounced onto the beach.  This was not her day.  She called out to her people.  None heard her. 

     The storm was abating in this area of the world.  She knew she was in France.  It was the closest country to England after all.  The closest safe home for her was in Paris. 

     She lifted her injured wing assessing the damage with her hand.  A cry of pain bubbled into her throat.  The tip of her wing had been removed cleanly and the blood only coagulated around the tip of the wing.  The damage was not as bad as she supposed.   She let go of her wing.  She needed to move from the beach.

Fight continues, Irti gains on her Opponent

     Deciding to make the best of it, she continued the turn and dove downwards.  She managed to loop around and regain the altitude she had held, but then saw Peri casually circling above her. 

     Irti hovered in the air for a moment, assessing the situation.  As she expected, Peri went for the altitude advantage.

     Peri dove toward Irti, who calmly looked up at the diving white-winged woman.  At the last moment, Irti dropped one wing, suddenly angling down and to the side.  She leveled her wings, and gained speed, diving toward the ground.  She quickly recovered from the dive, and turned back upwards, describing a full circle in the air, and ending up above her starting position.  The entire maneuver took only seconds. Suddenly, Peri found her foe above and directly behind her. 

     Peri desperately tumbled in the air.  She was still below her foe, and barely in control of her flight, but at least she was now facing Irti.  Irti barreled downwards, and then pulled up at the last second.  She buffeted Peri with her wings, and twisted her sword as she dueled her foe.  Her other arm darted in at a moment of weakness, when Peri’s attention was turned toward a particularly brutal slam of both wingtips on the sides of her face.  Peri recovered from a flurry of wing beats on her face, only to discover her foe’s true purpose.  Irti had pulled up and away from Peri.

     Irti smiled in satisfaction, holding a sword in each hand, and hovering just ten feet above her foe.  “It's finished.  You will return to our world.”

     What Irti didn't understand was the smile that suddenly appeared on Peri’s face.  It was explained a moment later as pain flared in her wing.  She lost control of her flight, and began to spin as she tumbled toward the sea.  

Air Combat

     From her side view came the female.  Irti turned quickly mid air to confront the angry Ahriman.  She saw the other woman brandishing a bronze sword.  Reaching behind her back, she pulled the sword she had in a sheath strapped between her wings.   She parried the first blow the woman did, and then she recognized her.  “Peri, you don’t have to fight,” Irti shouted out over the wind that had picked up from behind her.  

     A snarl came to the other woman’s lips.  Then, her white wings opened to their full eleven and a half foot length.  Irti knew then she needed to gain altitude because the woman was about to ram herself and the sword into Irti. 

     Irti bolted up.  She parried another blow.  The swords clashed as both of the winged women climbed and climbed, striving for height.  They were a match in strength.

     Peri, the younger of the two, tried with all her might to out maneuver and out speed her older, more experienced opponent.  Irti watched her flapping her wings almost too quickly, leaving trails of air swirling from the desperately beating feathers.  Irti leaned backwards, opening space between herself and her foe, letting the younger woman tire herself.

     Irti heard her snarl in triumph, and saw her foe aggressively climb, now her foe was just above her, and again they dueled with swords.  Irti spun in the air, allowing a leg to spin toward her surprised foe.  It connected with her foe’s womb, bringing a cry of pain and rage.  But the unexpected maneuver cost Irti altitude.

Flying over the English Countryside

Flying over the English countryside, the devastation of war became a small note.  The greens and small towns close to the Edge of the Island looked untouched.  Quiet hamlets of individuals knowing a war was happening around them but not participating in a grand scale. 

     Another war had been waged around the humans for millennia.  A war where even some humans chose sides, Irti did not understand that, in her own people there were a few humans that chose to help them.  Those humans manned safe houses.

     There were also many humans around the world that believed the meddling white wings were some kind of good offered to them by their god.  Irti did not know of a god who would want to interfere in the natural course of human daily life.  The god she served had a ‘hands off’ kind of philosophy.  He did not demand followers.  If you chose to follow, it was your own choice.

     Her mind drifted as they both flew over some pretty white cliffs.  The English Channel looked murky to Irti.  The storm clouds must have just assaulted the Channel.  That meant the main continent would have a deluge of rain later.

     Irti slowed herself down hovering over the churning water of the Channel.  As did her ex–lover Daryush, he spoke to her clearly as if the wind did not impede his sound.  “I do what I think is right.  You know that.”

     “What’s right?”  Irti said, hovering.  She flapped her massive wings a couple of times before she spoke once again. “Right is subjective.”

     “As you always argued.”  He said, moving slightly closer to her.  “Saving a few humans doesn’t harm anyone.”

     “Yes it does.”  Irti knew she would be talking to a wall but she had to try, “You don’t know who is supposed to live or die.  Some lives have to move on and become new people.  We are not the judges of this world.  Frankly, I wish the veil between our world and the humans would be sealed off forever.”

     He smiled, “You still have no liking for people.”

     Irti cringed, “My liking or disliking has nothing to do with you and your kind impeding human history.”

     “Quite right, quite right.”  He sighed, “I tried to make you understand.”  He reached out a hand to gently touch the side of Irti’s creamy cheek.  “You are so dark and beautiful.  I could kiss you even now; alas that is not what you want.  You want to take me back to our world.  You want me on trial for crimes that I don’t think I am committing.  That is not what I want.”

     She flew backwards.  “Your touch never meant much to me.” 

     “I know, we were not meant to be mates.”  He smiled again as he peered over Irti’s shoulder, “I found mine.  She is coming right now.”

Talking to Daryush

     She lifted her head to the sky as she heard the first of the bombers fly overhead.  She looked down to see the Ahriman look directly at her. 

     Irti jumped into the air.  Her black wings unfurled spanning their full Twelve-foot length.  They beat a couple of times, hovering over the alleyway.  She swooped down, diving at the man.

     He gazed at her.  “Irti, we should talk first.”  He lifted his wings and flapped a couple of times to gain altitude.

     “My claws are not out yet.”  Irti responded.  She slowed her descent to let him come close to her.

     He smiled at her, “I can see that.”

     “We can talk over the channel, and get away from the humans,” Irti suggested. She waited patiently for yet another response.

     He smiled at her once again; at one time she could read his looks.  “Okay, but . . . ”

     “No buts . . . You have no idea what will be those humans’ fates.  And we are charged with no interferences.  I would like an explanation.”  She said sweetly. 

     “That I will give to you.”  He flew by her letting a white wing brush her own. 

     She followed.  This was the first time in years that she had seen him.  She had fought and maimed many of his kind over that time.  But him, he was the leader, a person of interest to her council. 

     She watched him flying straight east of the city toward the English Channel.  She was thinking about the council of elders, with judgment of the most important of her kind.  She knew she would be omitting from her report that she talked to Daryush Hatef.

Beginning of a new Century and Mission

     The smoke clouded the sunny sky, as another air raid siren blared over the city speakers.  Those people caught out in the street ran toward an unusual light. There were not many since most of London was evacuated, but the ones who stayed still had to get to jobs. A man motioned to the frantic people walking, not running along the street.  So the people flocked to the man motioning to them.

     The man was an Ahriman, a man with white wings; he gave the appearance of helping the humans.  He was actually interfering.  The female Daeva watched from a shadowy rooftop.  Humans called her kind demons.  Her kind had nothing to do with humans.  All her people did, the Daeva, was to keep the Ahriman from interfering with the humans. 

     But did humans really need to know the truth? 

     They idealized the Ahriman as “Angels,” and seemed to not want to see that sometimes what the Ahriman did was against the human’s best interests.  Who would tell them the truth?  Nobody, the Daeva’s liked being able to do his or her job without human knowledge.

     So the female Daeva watched, disgusted.  She had thought of the man in a different way only a few years ago.  She honestly planned to try to convince her own kind that the Ahriman had changed.  The man had convinced her that the entire race had, since he was their leader.  She had been fooled.  He wanted only knowledge of how her people figured out where and when they needed to step in, to stop the Ahriman from interfering.  She did not tell him, even though he was so convincing.

     She cursed him under her breath.  His manipulations ticked her off.  He swore his love for her.  She wanted desperately to believe him.  She wanted to believe that she loved him too.  She knew something held her back. 

     Even their lovemaking was not what she imagined lovemaking should be.  It was cold and just functional with no real passion.  She wanted everything, love and passion. So, he was lacking.

     She shook her head to clear it.  Her job was to stop his kind.  She would complete her mission then return home.  

Radiating Power

     The new Ahriman looked down at her, radiating power.    She felt even more naked under his lustful gaze. Her dress was already open in the back to accommodate her wings, and now it was split down the front.  She felt ashamed of the stirrings of desire that she felt while he looked at her.  She knew then that she would give herself to him, but she also knew it would not be true love, just her following her latent desire.

     That was how she met Daryush, the leader of the Ahriman.

The short one lunged

The short one lunged, his mistake.  She had been well trained, and as his sword darted toward her, she traced a line down his arm with her blade.  He was obviously surprised, dropping his sword even though the wound was minor.  She stepped forward, sacrificing some of the safety of the chimney, by placing a foot firmly on the sword.

     The tall one shifted, almost out of her view, and she turned just in time.  He was more skilled, and had greater reach.  Her sword blocked his, but then the leader struck as well.  She dropped to the ground, rolling to the side, and avoiding the second blow, but her wings got in the way.

     She lay on her back panting, and the leader placed his sword at her throat.  “Drop your sword!”

     She complied, though she kept its location in mind, waiting, no hoping, for them to make a mistake.  The one she had cut came forward, “I want to cut her, it’s only fair.”

     The leader scowled, but nodded, and the short one placed his sword on her arm.  She flinched, and he laughed.  “Maybe, I’ll have a little fun instead?”  He put his sword at her belly and slashed upward.  This sliced skin, and ripped the fabric from navel to neck.  “Now I will finish you off for good!”

     As he pulled his sword back, a new masculine voice said, “Stop, what are you doing?”  The three almost cowered in his presence.  A blonde haired pretty faced male with perfect muscular physique stood before her.  He wore a simple black cape and underneath a toga of the same color. “I sent you to save a life, not to take one.”

A beginning

Irti leapt from the building, and covertly unfurled her black wings.  She glided to the next roof, landing on her feet, and turned to see if she was still being followed.  Sure enough, there they were, three white-winged males, all brandishing swords, and all with only one thought-her death.

     She scoffed at them before leaping down from that roof.  Her large twelve-foot wingspan opened quickly to catch the rainy wind.  She reached around her back with her right hand to grab the hilt of her sword.  If only she did not have to fight such dire odds.

     Her black hair whipped in the wind crossing over her eyes, diminishing her ability to see. This temporarily knocked her a little bit off balance.  She steadied herself by lifting a few of her feathers to control her glide to the next roof, where she landed again gracefully on her feet.

     She was a Daeva, a black angel.  What humans called a demon or helpers of the “devil.” Humans were mistaken.  First, her kind had never heard of the “devil.”  Second, her kind only wanted to stop the Ahriman from interfering with the history of the humans.  Humans thought of the Ahrimans as “angels“ or helpers of God.  This disgusted Irti.

     The rain fell cold against the bare skin on her back.  She mused about why she was out there, it was August 14, 1792, and she had just failed in her mission.  The Ahriman had foiled some human assassination attempt.  She didn’t know why, but she would find out.  She drew her bronze colored sword, and scowled at them, “Why did you stop those Girondists?”

     The one in the center, stocky with black hair and swarthy skin, spoke, “We were saving a life.  Maximilian Robes Pierre must survive.  And for your interference, you must be eliminated.”

     With that the two others, one tall and skinny, but also swarthy, the other short and vaguely Irish looking, moved forward and to the sides, trying to encircle her.

     Glancing about, she saw a large chimney, not a perfect defense, but at least something to put her back to.  She darted quickly to it, and moved her sword in small circles, flexing her wrist.  They moved to trap her there.