In the heavenly realms, conflict and war are as routine as escorting souls to the other side. For Camael, this routine has been disrupted as he finds himself irresistibly drawn to a human woman he encounters while comforting her dying child. To give in to the temptation could damn him to the Fallen forever.
Hannah Adams’ heart is broken. Her grief drives her to desperate actions that bring Cam into her life. Her attraction is immediate, but dark forces arise drawn to the young, grieving mother, and danger is imminent.
Camael finds himself torn between his loyalty to the Almighty, and his love for a human woman, and with the stakes climbing higher, must choose a side, and play his part in an ancient prophecy as the battle for power between heaven and hell begins.
Welcome to the new series of short stories by Michele E. Gwynn, Angelic Hosts, Book I, Camael’s Gift. Episode I.
Fun Fact (and in answer to the question on the tip of your tongue); Camael is pronounced ‘Cam-eye-EL’. Yep, archangels have strange names. Don’t blame me, take it up with the Big Guy upstairs.
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any similarities between characters or locations are coincidental. All characters, settings, and situations are products of the author’s imagination and in no way are representative of or related to real persons.
Copyright (C) 2014, previously published by M.E. Gwynn Publications. Now exclusive to Michele E. Gwynn’s Substack.
Chapter One
The words, “I’m so sorry for your loss,” kept running around inside Hannah’s head on a loop. It was endless, just like the soul-wrenching sorrow she felt. Everyone was sorry. Everyone had some awkward bit of condolence to offer. Everyone said, “If you need me, hon, I’m a phone call away.” But everyone got to go home after and tuck their child into bed. Everyone, that is, except for Hannah.
Jack was the joy of her life. Always inquisitive and eager to learn, he soaked up every experience like a little sponge. He laughed a lot. He was generous, too, and would always share his toys with other kids. He never complained, not when he got sick and began losing weight. Not even when he was too tired to sit up and watch cartoons. He didn’t complain when he went through the hell of chemotherapy, and when it came down to the end, he didn’t regret one single moment of his short, seven-year-old life. In fact, his only worry was for his mom, which broke Hannah’s heart into so many pieces, she didn’t think it would ever again be whole.
The house was so quiet now that everyone was gone. The rain that began as a light sprinkle that morning fell in earnest as the sun set. The downfall felt like heaven itself was weeping. But heaven should be overjoyed in her thinking, because now, heaven had Jack. The pain in her heart was so overwhelming, she didn’t know what to do to make it stop.
Hannah walked through the house going from room to room, and finally stopped at the doorway to Jack’s bedroom. Inside, the bright blue walls were covered in pictures he’d drawn, masterpieces on construction paper in the mediums of crayon and markers. Every single one was priceless in her eyes. His favorite blanket was folded and sitting on his bed. Her sister, Jen, must’ve left it there the other day when they came home from the hospital for the last time.
Hannah walked over and sat down, picking up the blanket and hugging it tight. It was a colorful SpongeBob Square Pants cuddler. Jack insisted on having it while in the hospital. She lifted it to her face and inhaled. It still smelled like him; warm, sunshiny, funny—if those could be classified as scents, then these were all Jack. Tears fell in fat drops on the fuzzy fibers. Hannah knew that this was all she had left of her son, and once the scent faded, he would truly be gone. A low moan began in the back of her tight throat and burst forth in an agonizing wail. She bent over wrapping herself around the last piece of Jack she had left and cried as only a mother who’d just lost her only son could.
***
He watched from the shadows drawn to her pain. Her grief was so strong, so powerful, that it radiated like a bright light signaling those who would offer comfort. But what comfort could he offer? This woman who’d watched her son fade away slowly before her eyes, decimated by a disease there was no cure for could not be consoled. The love of a mother for her child is stronger than anything in the vast realms, and only death could put a dent in it. What she didn’t realize, he thought, not yet, anyway, was that she would see Jack again. Of this, he was sure. Still, her pain was terrible to behold, and he wanted desperately to make it go away. This was highly unusual. Once his job was complete, he never saw the remaining humans again until it was their time to cross over, and then, only if he was sent for them. But this one pulled him back. Her heart was a shining example of all that was good in humanity. There wasn’t a selfish bone in her entire body. He knew. He could see these things.
In the last few weeks of Jack’s life, he’d sat by the boy’s bedside, holding his hand, and telling him everything would be alright. Jack understood, and he wasn’t afraid, brave boy. It was then he first saw Hannah Adams. Her big brown eyes and long, black hair reminded him of warm places, and her smile was like that of the sun. The sound of her voice put a choir to shame, and the generosity of her spirit appeared in her aura like a thousand bursting stars giving birth to a new galaxy. He was in awe of this woman. And this was clearly a distraction from his duty.
He walked over to the bed and sat next to her. Her crying continued so he placed a hand on her back. Her tears slowly subsided, and she hiccupped a few times. Finally, a calmness came over her and she lay down, falling asleep on Jack’s bed. He knew she would have many more nights like this before she could once again move forward. He also knew that despite protocol, he would check on her again to make sure she was okay. Camael reached out and touched her face tracing the tracks of her tears. After they dried, he stood, and spreading his massive white gossamer wings, faded through the ceiling as he ascended.
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