“They are only temporary, so don’t get excited. It’s the same stuff given to DDs during flight training. But at least now I can pretend you’re a newly selected Guardian instead of an infiltrating Reaper.” A grin cleaves his face as he flaps his fake wings. I laugh at the image of my little brother, awkwardly beating his wings out of sync, never being able to make it off the ground.
“The records room is this way. Follow me.” I start up the flight of stairs that wind around the walls on a steady incline. Preston runs along after me, eyes darting everywhere, taking it all in. We pass a shelf filled with time turners, various amounts of sand cascading from the top globe to the bottom. Another contains a wall of flickering candles burning bright, hundreds of feet tall. “What is this about?” Pres asks.
“They are blessed candles. Each time a human lights one on Earth in honor of a friend, family member, or a cause, a Guardian also lights one here.”
“That’s so cool,” he murmurs as we pass. The archives room is just up ahead. Carved into the stone door blocking our entrance is a pair of wings, and settled in between them is an unraveled scroll, its feather pen frozen in time inscribing the birth and ascension dates of an unknown soul onto the stone pages.
“What’s an ascension date?” Pres queries, scratching his messy dark hair.
“An ascension date is the day your body dies. Angels don’t perceive death as others do because we know there's life after death. The moment your body ceases to live, your soul ascends into Heaven. A soul can never really die—your soul just gains a new life, changing into something better, an existence more profound. Does that make sense?”
“Perfectly,” he responds with a smile. “I like looking at it that way much better.” His smile melts, and he chews his lip. “Too bad we weren't given that opportunity.”
My heart clenches for him. He’s always been such an emotional person. Clapping my hand on his shoulder, I give him a squeeze. “Think of it this way. If we became what we thought we should be, we would have never met Hadley in the Afterlife. I don’t know about you, but there is nothing in our previous life, or this one, that I wouldn’t sacrifice for a single moment with her.”
He looks up at me with tears in his green eyes. “Me too.”
I give him a soft smile. “Okay, enough with the emotional shit. Let’s get the information we need and get the heck out of here.”
“Heck?” Preston chuckles as we push open the door.
I shrug. “Can’t swear out loud in Heaven, now can I?”
“Um…you did twice already,” Preston points out, but I merely chuckle.
I’ve only been in the room beyond once before. The Archives remind me of libraries on Earth. Shelves filled with records line all the walls from top to bottom, and in the center of the room, massive, free-standing bookcases are stacked next to each other, creating aisles between them. Hovering signs seem to float in the air, delegating each section by age ranging from Year 0, B.C. to Present.
This time we’re not alone. Several Guardians are sifting through the newest section, adding birth and ascension dates. They don’t pay us any mind, not even glancing up from their tasks.
“What year was Hadley born?” I whisper to Pres.
“Umm…she was twenty when she died so…” He counts quietly, his fingers working. “1999.”
I scan the hovering signs. “This one,” I say, pointing to the correct aisle. It takes several minutes to find her file, and initially, just like in Administer’s office, we find nothing significant. I’m about to put it back, when Preston points out fine print at the bottom of her birth date record.
The top half is normal—biological parents, height, weight, place of birth, date, and things like that. But underneath, in print so small I almost overlooked it, is the word ‘reborn.’
“What do you think it means?” he whispers.
“I’m not entirely sure, but there are a couple of possibilities.”
He gestures for me to continue. “Such as…?”
“Well. Some select souls who are taken from their lives too early are sometimes reincarnated. Meaning their same soul is given new life on Earth, a second chance. Some souls are reborn again and again; others only get one additional life.”
Preston cups his face, squishing his cheeks. “So that means…our Hadley was born at least one time before.”
Flashes of my premonition flit through my mind, when I distinctly hear the Darkness calling Hadley ‘Claire,’ and my blood runs cold. “What?” Preston asks, seeing my reaction.
“Let’s just get through this first, and then I’ll tell you.” He folds his arms and looks at me pointedly. “I promise,” I say, holding up my arms in a placating fashion. “I just want to confirm a few things before we get into this.”
“Okay.” He deflates. I consider looking up Layla, but I don’t know when she was born, so that is out of the question.
Shoving Hadley’s file closed, I stroke my chin in thought. “There has got to be some information in here about the history of the Darkness, but I don’t think it’s here in the archives.”
“You’ll have to check the Forbidden Files room for that,” a voice chimes in. Preston and I look at each other with wide eyes, before turning to its origin. An old and wise-looking angel with twinkling blue eyes and long hair as white as my own looks at us kindly. “You’ll never get in, of course. Michael and Raphael are on guard today. Nothing gets past those two.”
Then, after winking at us, he strolls away.
“Well, that was weird,” Preston notes. “Any idea what he was talking about?”
I nod, defeated. “I do. No one gets in there without express consent from the big guy. At least one of the original Guardians stands sentry outside of it at all times. I don’t know how the fuck we’ll get past them.”
Preston sighs and forks his fingers through his hair. “Let’s have a look and figure it out when we get there.”
“Deal.”
Exiting the Archives room, we turn left and continue climbing the stairs. Soon, the massive golden wings of the two Archangels appear, glittering in the light. Preston and I duck between two large, wooden crosses draped in white fabric.
“I don’t see how we can get past them, Pres. They are too wise and aware.”
Preston smirks. “Leave it to me.” Before I can ask him what the fuck he’s going to do, he summons his scythe, gives the weapon a quick swirl, then aims it over the stairs at the ground below. “Explosio!”
“Preston, no!” I shout, but it's too late. A red spark explodes from his scythe and crashes into the fountain below. Stone and holy water go flying. Preston leaps back towards me, his weapon retracting back into thin air as the Archangels leap from their posts, swords drawn, flying down to the broken fountain.
“Now!” he whispers, and we scurry up the stairs right into the Forbidden Files room, shutting the door quietly behind us. I’m utterly baffled that my shy, unsure baby bro just pulled that off.
Unlike the other rooms in the Guardian’s Hall, this one has a roof. Its rows of information are dark, the room having a cavern-like feel. Torches provide flickering light as we walk through. “Where do we start?” my brother asks.