though it was gratifying to know that I could do that as well.Abigail, she detested being called Abby, so I made it a point to call her that as often aspossible, explained that the key to my using my incredible powers laid in thought. All I had todo was concentrate on something, and whatever I thought about a certain thing manifesteditself into reality. Oh, how I wished I had this power when I was alive; I would’ve scattered everysingle cell in King Collin’s worthless body throughout the four corners of the globe. I could’vebeen King Tragger, the most ruthless and powerful being to ever rule Elyria. The thought wassimply too delicious not to smile over. Abigail was forever scolding me, reminding me that thesenew powers of mine were never to be used for personal gain, but rather as a weapon in our Father’s eternal struggle against the
, whom roamed the earth disguised as a mortalcausing mayhem and stealing souls from the good people of the towns and villages wherever he went.I both understood and didn’t understand the logic behind this; the soldier in me graspedthe concept of using these fantastic powers as a weapon against the enemy, but the human inme didn’t understand why our Father didn’t just snap His mighty fingers and vaporize the
. I made the foolish mistake of bringing this up with Abigail, and that raven-haired angelwith the fiery-temper, admonished me for daring to question Father’s ways, and then sent myass crashing through a mighty Pine tree. Then, she lectured me on destroying such a beautifulpiece of Father’s Creation and forced me to use my powers to mend the tree.I had to retaliate, of course. She may be an angel, but I wasn’t just some ragamuffinshe picked up off the streets, I was a feared and highly respected soldier in a mighty army, andI came fully loaded with a temper of my own. So, I covered my winged instructor from head totoe in honey, and laughed until I cried as I watched her become very good friends with all thebees and ants very quickly. It’s heartwarming to watch someone you care about make newfriends, and Abby had such a . . .
way about her that day. I did, however, learn not to asktoo many questions; especially where our Father’s holy war was concerned.The mission, however, was always constantly on my mind, and the longer I was left outof the loop, the longer I went without seeing our Father for myself, the angrier I became. Whywasn’t I good enough to be seen by Him? Why did He only go through Abigail? She got to seeand speak to our Father all the time, why was I excluded? Was my soul tarnished somehow?Was I unworthy of Him? Was it because I wasn’t an angel? How did one go about becomingan angel, if that was indeed the case? What did I do so wrong that He refused to speak tome? Was it because I had taken the lives of His other children while I was alive? How could Hepossibly hold that against me? I was a warrior, it was my duty to kill in the name of my liege. If He didn’t want me to spill his children's blood, why did He pick that life for me then? What wasI supposed to do? I wondered, not for the first time, if Abigail had ever killed a man while shewas human. I never asked, but I suspected not; it just didn’t seem like something she could do.Killers could always spot killers, there was just something dark and vaguely sinister smolderingin their eyes. Abigail didn’t have that darkness burning behind hers. She had a mean streak tobe sure, she was loaded with all kinds of mischievous evil, but a killer -- no, she just didn’t havethat in her.That must be the reason why our Father shunned me. I was a murderer. I had killedHis children in battle. My soul was tainted, or ruined, or smeared, or whatever it is theysay happens to a man’s soul once he has taken another life. I was unworthy of Him. I was