Date: Thu, 01 Nov 2001 10:57:53 -0500
From: Tom Cup <tom_cup@hotmail.com>
Subject: Angel -  Chapter 11 G/M Y/A

Angel by Tom Cup

Copyright 2000, 2001 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All
rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without
written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive,
Florissant, CO 80816

This is a fictional story involving youth/youth or adult/youth sexual
relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any
further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names,
characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or
locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Angel
By Tom Cup
Chapter 11

Marge was persistent.  She was not going to leave until she was allowed to
speak with someone, anyone.  The young boy that first answered the door told
her that Brother Lucas was busy and that visitation was over for the day.
When she refused to leave, another boy came to the door repeating the sermon
of the first boy. She had thought that she would have to sleep on the steps
in front to the ranch style home, something she could easily do, and wait
out the stubbornness of the proprietors.  She made herself comfortable and
prepared to wait.

It was curiosity that caused Elijah and Zachy to sneak out the back and
circle around front to get a look at the crazy old woman.  They thought that
they had stealthfully positioned themselves to spy on the woman and were
surprised when she spoke to them.

"You mightest well come out and get a good look," Marge said, "Come on.  I
won't bite."

The boys hesitated, looking one to the other trying to decide whether to run
or take a chance and be revealed.

"My God," Marge commented, "There is nothing noisier than boys trying to
sneak about."

It was Elijah that took the bait and step out from among the shadows.  Zachy
protested for only a moment before joining him.  Marge sat up and stared at
the two boys, smiling.

"What are you doing here?" Elijah asked

"Yeah," added Zachy, "You're not supposed to be here."

"Well," said Marge, "I am here and I am not leaving until I find out what
happened to my Angel."

"Are you his mom?" asked a bewildered Elijah.

"Heavens no child," Marge exclaimed, "But I know something happened and I
want to know what."

"He's not here," Zachy answered.

"Shhhh..." cautioned Elijah.

"Well he ain't," Zachy responded.

"And didn't think he would be," assured Marge, "but I intend to find out
what happened to him. I had to start somewhere."

"What d'ya care?" asked Elijah.

"Now that is a right good question, isn't it?" Marge responded, "Let me ask
you a question.  Do you care?"

The boys stared at one another.  The truth could not be hidden even from a
causal observer.  They cared and were concerned.  It seemed strange to them
that both Angel and Darcy should disappear.  Neither of them were runners.
Still stranger was the fact that they were not friends.  The explanation of
their disappearance just didn't fit in the boys' minds.  Angel and Darcy
would not have left together.  Then there was the matter of Father Cornelius
who was also now missing.  Of course they were told that he was out looking
for the missing boys but none could remember any boy being searched for by
the rector.

"So I see you do care," Marge stated, "Now the only question is: will you
help me?"

*****

Jonathan rushed down the hall.  He knew he was head in the wrong direction.
He didn't care.  There was only one thing on his mind: find Angel.  Angel
held the keys to the answers he needed. The boy was more than he seemed.  He
followed the sounds of the chants, hymns and readings -- moving further into
the monastery.  He was staying within the shadows of the pillars as best he
could but there were stretches where he could not hide.

There had been no other sounds save the vespers coming from the main hall,
which was why his heart jumped in fear, when he heard the whispered, "In
here. Hurry."  Jonathan turn toward the voice only to catch a glimpse of a
boy turning a corner and disappearing out of view. "Hurry," the voice urged.
  Jonathan turned away from the main hall and followed the figure through
narrow cell lined halls, down below the monastery to an underground passage.
The boy stayed just far enough ahead of him that he couldn't be sure if it
was Angel but everything within Jonathan told him that it was.  The stone
beneath them turned to dirt as the boy led him to the spot he wanted him to
see.  Jonathan stared at the site in disbelief before speaking.

"What is this?" he asked.

"You know what it is," the voice came back to him.

Yes, it was true.  Jonathan knew he was looking at: a burial volt. But the
sizes of the lots were not correct.

"They use to kill them all," Angel said turning to look at the priest, "and
bury them here.  But now they need them.  They need acolytes, priests and
nuns.  The world is beginning to reject the old ways.  Having a priest in
the family is no long a desirable thing.  So if the world won't breed for
the Church the Church will breed its own. It's better that way, you see,
that way the Church controls which human lines rise and lead the Church one
day."

"But..." Jonathan began to protest.

Angel turned to look at him.  The boy seemed bigger, somehow, older.  The
look in his eyes silenced Jonathan immediately.  He could sense the love the
boy had for him but there was a paralyzing sorrow.

"Up in the chapel, after vespers, the priest and their nun concubines will
pair off and try to conceive the next generation of acolytes, priests and
nuns.  The offspring of those unions will grow up in one of the other cache
monasteries spread throughout the world.  Some of the children from those
other monasteries will end up here.  They will never know their parents.
They will only know The Order.  Should one of them show a hint of
individuality, he or she will end up here."  Angel concluded by waving his
hand over the scene before them.  Jonathan stared into the burial volt.  He
could not wholly grasp what Angel was telling him. He turned to face Angel
to find him staring into his eyes.

"Come," he said, "There's something else I want you to see."

*****


They emerged from the woods somewhere below a beak like precipice.  It was
Darcy who froze at the first whisper of the vesper chants.  They all stood
still, until it became clear in each of their minds that they were hearing a
Cantate Domino, though the words were unclear.

Peter quieted them as the adrenaline began to pump into their blood streams.
"We are now truly in danger. Let us truly pray that he Lord is on our side."

"I can't go any further," Cornelius said.

"What?" James and Peter said almost simultaneously.  Darcy leaned against a
nearby tree smiling and shaking his head.

"I can't go any further without confession," Cornelius said, "I can't face
death without saying some things."

"Cornelius," Father Kennedy began but was interrupted by the Bishop.

"It's OK," he said, "I think we may need to hear what our brother has to
say."

"This ought to be good," Darcy sneered.

"I don't believe he means for you..." the bishop said, but Cornelius assured
everyone that his confession was for them all.

"I am tired of hiding," Cornelius began, "I am tired of hiding from what
others may think of me.  I'm tired of hiding from what I think of myself.
Darcy has come to hate because of what he thinks I have done.  Do I love
Angel?  Yes, with all my heart. Was there a sin committed?  Yes, in my
heart.  I lay with the boy in my arms and wished, dreamed, of more.  What
crime did I commit more than our Lord with John laying in his bosom?"

"Cornelius..." the Bishop breathed. Cornelius raised his hand.

"If I am to confess I must say what is on my heart," he continued, "I know
the implication of what I say.  I have known them since before I became a
priest. I believed I had conquered these questions.  Here I am now, at very
least throwing away my career, chasing the mystery of the boy I love.  Yes,
brothers: love.  It is what binds me to him.  I have loved him for an
eternity; from the moment I first heard him speak. And in hearing him speak,
I asked why...why condemn love between brethren?  Why must I be ashamed of
these feelings I have? Why must I be consigned to damnation if I act upon
them?"

"Surely this is a rhetorical question," Peter answered.

"No," James said, "It is not.  He's not asking for an apologetic defense of
the Doctrine of the Church.  He's asking for the truth." Peter sighed.

"Are you all heretics!" screamed Darcy, "The man speaks blasphemy and you
stand there looking at each other like it's an academic question.  He should
be stoned."

"Why so much hate Darcy?" Cornelius asked, "Why can't you even accept that
the Church could be wrong?  That love could mean more than doctrine?"

"That's enough," James said, "You want to know truth?  You know the truth in
your heart..."

"James," Peter cautioned. Father Kennedy brushed the man he had once
mentored aside.

"The truth is love between brothers could grow so strong that it could out
weigh the love brothers have for the Church," James said, " You knew when
taking Holy Orders that your first loyalty would be to the Church.  No
matter what the stated order. The Church comes first. God comes second or
third."

Cornelius nodded as a tear streaked down his face. "Forgive me brothers, I
have sinned."

"So have we all," whispered Peter, "So have we all."

*****


Marge searched quickly through the file folder that held Angels information.
Elijah kept watch through the jarred crack in the Rector office door. Zachy
nervously reminded Marge that she needed to hurry.  They were all alarmed
when the telephone began to ring.  Marge could think of nothing to quiet the
accidental alarm so she picked up the receiver.  She didn't speak but she
held the phone to her ear.  She was surprised when she didn't hear, "Hello.
Hello.  Is anyone there?"  She listened intently finally hearing in the
background chanted hymns.  She hung up the telephone to reset it, pick it up
again and dialed *69 to find the number from which the call originated.  She
was a woman who had once been use to getting things done. All her powers of
persuasion came to flower as she spoke to the operator.

"I'm really not suppose to do this," the voice whined.

"I know, I know," Marge assured her, "Look, do this for me and I promise my
letter to your supervisor will be glowing.  Not only that, you'll know you
help a old crow keep her job."

In the end Marge got the address and was guided out of the building, and to
her car, by Elijah and Zachy.

*****

Jonathan stared into the room at the 13 children.  They could have been
heading for their first communion.  They were all beautiful children: seven
boys and six girls in all.  Jonathan turned to Angel.

"These are my brothers and sisters," Angel stated, "Born of different
mothers but of the same father.  They are... royal stock, if you will.  Now I
ask you again, Jonathan, will you keep your promise to me?"

"Of course I will," Jonathan answered staring at the children.  They all
reminded him so much of Angel.  One of the boys could have easily been
Angel's twin.  It was then that Jonathan remembered the photograph.
"Angel," he said. But Angel was gone.

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