the mistake again of turning his back on friend or foe; he would never be tricked again. As human, an angel was frail and could lose the body he possessed. But if he had another chance, he would be powerful, worthy, and drink in every atom of pleasure the planet extended to a living being. He would know paradise and worship it.
If only Angelique would allow it.
So he had begged her. And in so doing the hate he felt rose to white hot flame, almost to the brink of consuming him, but she had not known that, hadn’t even suspected what it cost him. It might have taken him a thousand years, he had no idea of time passing, but it had taken a long time for him to perfect an empty mind his queen could not read. So when he sounded contrite and apologetic, she would not know how very much he despised her and how unapologetic he really felt.
He tried to remember why she was the ruler of the lost servants. Certainly it wasn’t because she was the most perceptive, for she wasn’t. Or because she was the most brilliant, since she wasn’t that either. Maybe it was because she was the most determined. The strongest willed. It had been so long since the fall that how she’d come to be his master was lost in the long silvery wisps of time. She had probably just been the most opportunistic angel among them--taking control while others wailed and gnashed their teeth at being separated from God.
He stared ahead of him again, into nothing, into darkness, into the bowels of Hell. He felt time trickle by so exasperatingly slowly that he knew soon he would have to close down his mind and hibernate. The instant Angelique relented and called him to Earth, he would hear the siren call and come completely awake.
But for a while, despite how it scourged him and made him want to fly apart into a billion particles, he continued staring into the deep, into the far reaches, into the nowhere prison that was neither space nor non-space, neither here nor there, neither dead or alive. He let the Nothing fill his eyes, fill his mouth, fill his mind, and allowed it to devour his soul.
And then he was at one with it, drifting into dreamless oblivion, a being without regret or yearning. And in this way, the only way possible, he waited. Waited.
CHAPTER 11
ANGELIQUE IN SPAIN
When it was time to go, she was ready. She was given a few days warning and was able to make plans. She had a small woven bag filled with food--dried fruit and meat and various nuts natural to the island. What she couldn’t carry was sufficient water for drinking. She would have to find the supply on board the ship and secret it away in a pigskin bladder she had fashioned to hold liquids. She also had stolen a small tin pot with a screw type lid from the kitchen. It was a fine piece of work brought on shore by the Spaniards, along with other pots and pans fashioned from metal. She could use the pot for relieving herself, and she would later find a way to dispose of those excrements overboard once on the ship.
The most important item she carried with her was the cloth drawstring bag of gold coins. They were her ticket to a new life. Had she not put the thought into the Spanish priest’s head to favor her with gold coins for the work she did, he might never have come to think of it on his own.
She had thought of everything. Not that the voyage would be easy. She knew it would take a very long time to reach Spain. The ordeal before her was monumental, but not impossible. Once she was determined to succeed at a task, nothing could stop her.
One day before Columbus revealed he would be leaving with crews for his ships, she waited until after midnight, gathered her things, and walked into the calm surf beneath a dark, moonless sky. She could not take one of the soldiers’ outriggers. She had to swim out to the massive, waiting ships.
It was a long way for anyone to swim, much less a child burdened with supplies, but Angelique was no ordinary child, and her
If only Angelique would allow it.
So he had begged her. And in so doing the hate he felt rose to white hot flame, almost to the brink of consuming him, but she had not known that, hadn’t even suspected what it cost him. It might have taken him a thousand years, he had no idea of time passing, but it had taken a long time for him to perfect an empty mind his queen could not read. So when he sounded contrite and apologetic, she would not know how very much he despised her and how unapologetic he really felt.
He tried to remember why she was the ruler of the lost servants. Certainly it wasn’t because she was the most perceptive, for she wasn’t. Or because she was the most brilliant, since she wasn’t that either. Maybe it was because she was the most determined. The strongest willed. It had been so long since the fall that how she’d come to be his master was lost in the long silvery wisps of time. She had probably just been the most opportunistic angel among them--taking control while others wailed and gnashed their teeth at being separated from God.
He stared ahead of him again, into nothing, into darkness, into the bowels of Hell. He felt time trickle by so exasperatingly slowly that he knew soon he would have to close down his mind and hibernate. The instant Angelique relented and called him to Earth, he would hear the siren call and come completely awake.
But for a while, despite how it scourged him and made him want to fly apart into a billion particles, he continued staring into the deep, into the far reaches, into the nowhere prison that was neither space nor non-space, neither here nor there, neither dead or alive. He let the Nothing fill his eyes, fill his mouth, fill his mind, and allowed it to devour his soul.
And then he was at one with it, drifting into dreamless oblivion, a being without regret or yearning. And in this way, the only way possible, he waited. Waited.
CHAPTER 11
ANGELIQUE IN SPAIN
When it was time to go, she was ready. She was given a few days warning and was able to make plans. She had a small woven bag filled with food--dried fruit and meat and various nuts natural to the island. What she couldn’t carry was sufficient water for drinking. She would have to find the supply on board the ship and secret it away in a pigskin bladder she had fashioned to hold liquids. She also had stolen a small tin pot with a screw type lid from the kitchen. It was a fine piece of work brought on shore by the Spaniards, along with other pots and pans fashioned from metal. She could use the pot for relieving herself, and she would later find a way to dispose of those excrements overboard once on the ship.
The most important item she carried with her was the cloth drawstring bag of gold coins. They were her ticket to a new life. Had she not put the thought into the Spanish priest’s head to favor her with gold coins for the work she did, he might never have come to think of it on his own.
She had thought of everything. Not that the voyage would be easy. She knew it would take a very long time to reach Spain. The ordeal before her was monumental, but not impossible. Once she was determined to succeed at a task, nothing could stop her.
One day before Columbus revealed he would be leaving with crews for his ships, she waited until after midnight, gathered her things, and walked into the calm surf beneath a dark, moonless sky. She could not take one of the soldiers’ outriggers. She had to swim out to the massive, waiting ships.
It was a long way for anyone to swim, much less a child burdened with supplies, but Angelique was no ordinary child, and her
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