After World Chronicles: Angel Awakens

Feather

ANGEL

When I'd seen the leonine Watcher I'd thought he was filled with power, but the one looking like a Norwegian God standing before us now could slice my soul to ribbons with the sharpness of his stare. Fear like I've never known slides like ice through my veins at the appearance of this massive Watcher. He must be over seven feet tall, his body built with the perfect compliment of muscle to match his height. The age of his human facade appears to be of a man in his prime with broad, bold features pulled together by a strong, clefted chin. Rather than the blond hair one would usually associate with his northern features, his long, thick locks, currently tied back, are a startling black. Piercing sapphire eyes under thick, straight brows and surrounded with impossibly long lashes inspect me with detached objectivity, leaving me feeling as if I'm lacking in every way. I feel insignificant in his presence.

Beside me Dante is still as a statue and silent, with his head bowed. One hand is fisted and held against his heart. The only thing keeping me from falling to pieces is the gentle grasp he maintains on my hand. Our fingers are entwined, and I feel warmth and strength flow from him, giving me courage. I bow my head also, mostly because I'm frightened and my eyes are starting to fill with tears of terror. The Watcher looks so very disapproving.

"Dante," the Watcher's voice is deep, and although he is not shouting it reverberates through the underground space making all the material objects rattle. From the corner of my eye I see Dante swallow reflexively. His eyes sweep closed for a fraction of a second, then I watch his chest expand as he sucks in a deep breath and squares his shoulders. He raises his head proudly and responds to the terrifying Watcher.

"My liege," his voice is deferential and calm.

"Release your hold on the girl," the Watcher orders sharply. Dante shoots me an apologetic look as he dis-entwines his hand from mine.

The Watcher turns to me again. "Step forward," he commands, and although I'd much rather shrink into the background and fade from notice, I do as he orders without hesitation, keeping my gaze cast down, and hoping it looks deferential rather than apprehensive. Wetness still shimmers in my gaze, but I blink it back. I refuse to show weakness. For a few quiet moments that seem much longer than they actually are, he inspects me with laser sharp scrutiny, leaving me feeling exposed and raw.

"I am Sven, the Judge," the Watcher introduces himself, breaking the silence. "I am the most powerful of the angelic assigned here."

From the pure power that radiates from him, I don't doubt it. The very air around him seems to crackle and hum as if the energy is a living force reaching out from within him. Even without acute senses I can almost detect it as a visible thing pulsating in the air and hear its musical hum surrounding him. There is no question he is the most powerful entity I've ever come face to face with.

"Dante is my servant He has been assigned to protect you."

His words confuse me, but for the moment I leave the rush of questions his words elicit alone. I need all my sensibilities for this moment.

"Tell my your name," he orders me, and I feel his command ripple through me. It is an intrusive sensation, pulling from deep inside me. I want to resist just on principle of the violation, but I can't.

"Angel," I say, my gaze still cast to the ground. If Dante is his servant, assigned to me, how can he not already know my name?

"Look at me when you speak to me!" he barks harshly, and my entire being trembles as my head flies up and my eyes meet his. His eyes blaze like blue flames under lowered brows. He looks irate and I wonder about my safety. "It is respectful in the angel realm to declare yourself when meeting another."