Seven Archangels: Annihilation

Jane Lebak

Chapter 15

He felt her awaken.

Saraquael moved closer to Remiel, unable to look at her too carefully but also unwilling to take his attention away from her. His heart pounded.

Remiel opened white-ringed eyes, shivering as she huddled against the arm of the couch. Her chest heaved. Saraquael's cats scattered through the open window, but although he watched them with envy, he remained. Remiel reeked of ozone and smoke, which Saraquael tried not to notice.

Clutching a brown pillow to her stomach, she regarded the paintings and the bookshelves with a flat affect. Her eyes had faded to butter yellow, but despite that, her grip around her legs remained locked, and her chin rested on her knees. Saraquael had pulled the drapes, but that didn't account for the darkness. Although she must have sobered some because she hadn't fled, she seemed more feral than before.

Zadkiel and Raguel stood guard—Zadkiel on the outside and Raguel within. They'd put up a Guard although it was futile.

Tension emanated from Remiel in concentric rings like the plunk of a stone in a pond, and for a moment Saraquael wished he could do for her as a Cherub did to a Seraph and absorb all that erratic power.

And then the energy ended like a broken circuit. Remiel slackened into the cushions. Raguel stepped forward, then stopped as Saraquael reached for her. A moment after, he recoiled.

She'd done that deliberately.

She'd run herself out of energy deliberately.

His heart was all one question as he knelt on the carpet facing her.

He sought her pale eyes with his green ones, and she reached for his hand. She extended her fingertips to his hair, and they shook as she rolled some of the brown strands between thumb and forefinger.

"It's over now," Saraquael murmured. Why had she drained herself of all her power? Was it still the madness? "You're safe with us, and no one's coming for you."

Remiel said, "I thought angels couldn't dream."

"We can't," Saraquael said.

"I've been dreaming."

Raguel started, and Saraquael had to force himself not to recoil.

"I've been dreaming I'm destroying Gabriel, and my hands are puppets and I have to do whatever I'm told. Over and over I have to rip out his heart, and I know he's dead because his blood is all over me. Camael looks at me, but it's only a mirror. Voices tell me I'm finally special because Camael never destroyed an angel."

"I'm sorry," Saraquael said.

"You didn't know." Remiel knit her fingers, then shifted so her feet dropped to the carpet. "Which one am I? I can't remember. Am I determined by my company, so when I'm with you I'm Remiel—but when I'm with them, am I Camael?"

Saraquael didn't answer. She leaned forward and rested her hands on his shoulders. "Sit with me," she said, and Saraquael joined her. "You too," she said to Raguel, and he took a position on the ottoman.

"Do you still love me?" she asked Raguel.

The Principality nodded.

She closed her eyes. "And you, Saraquael?"

"You know I love you. You're my closest friend."

Remiel hesitated, then rested her head on his shoulder as he cupped her in his wings. "And what about God?"

She waited, and then a tentative smile spread from her lips, transforming her eyes back to golden.

Saraquael let out a long-held breath.

She tensed again. "Let me tell you my other dream." Her wings seemed plastered to her body. "I dreamed that angels are coming to me, all in black, and they're crying, but they say Gabriel is alive. Then Satan comes, but he's disguised as Jesus, and he says, 'Will you believe me? He's alive.' Only he's lying."

"It's a dream," Raguel said.

"But angel's don't dream." The pitch of her voice rose. "We sleep and awaken in the same state of mind. Our bodies sleep to heal, but not our minds, so here I am all at loose ends, only I'm not the way I was when you stopped me—"

Saraquael flinched.

"—and here I am at full spiritual power so I can do things like create hurricanes and slash my own wrists."

Saraquael grabbed her in a hug, closing his wings around her as he realized why she'd deliberately exhausted her energy. She'd wanted to right the scales in order to control herself.

"You're safe with us," was all Saraquael could think to say.

"It will happen again and again." Remiel's voice cracked. "God himself will have to come for me to set things straight inside."

Saraquael tried to ignore the horror on Raguel's face. "Open the drapes," he said.

A moment after, the room shone with colorful morning light that captured Remiel's attention.

"Gabriel isn't dead," Saraquael said at last.

"He's still hanging on?"

"Apparently they fixed him."

She looked puzzled. "Israfel was called."

"I was there," Saraquael said. "They thought it was the end, but Uriel did something, and he's better."

Remiel dragged her forearm across her eyes. "For how much longer?"

Saraquael selected his words slowly. "Michael said Uriel mended him. They recovered the rope or whatever it was. He's weak, but apparently this is for real. Forever."

Light glinted in Remiel's eyes. "But…" She gulped. "Is this a dream?"

Saraquael smiled. "I don't dream."

"I guess you don't." She laughed. "He's really okay? I didn't kill him?" She flung her arms and wings around Saraquael, then tackled Raguel, shrieking with laughter. Zadkiel came inside to see what had happened and got a flying hug for her trouble too.

"Thank you, God, thank you, God," she trilled, then opened her arms to hug all three of them. "Let's go see him!"

"I haven't been allowed to see him yet," Saraquael said. "Uriel's orders."

Remiel shook her head, her eyes suddenly cautious, sparks around her hair.

No, she couldn't lose control again.

"I'll ask," Saraquael said, then spoke into the air. "Michael?"

Anything to report?

"Remiel wants to know if we can see Gabriel."

Is she still throwing energy?

Like a pulsar, Saraquael sent rather than said.

Absolutely not.

"When do you think we can?" Saraquael said aloud, meeting Remiel's eyes. Her expectant look faded.

I don't think he's even awake yet, but I'll let you know.

"Thanks," Saraquael said. "I've got someone here who wants to be first on the guest list." Then he turned to Remiel. "Apparently he's still sleeping."

"Where are they keeping him?" she said. "I couldn't track him down before."

Saraquael caught the gleam in Zadkiel's eyes. "He's safe for now, among friends, like you."

  Mary looked up from her knitting to find Gabriel with his eyes open.

"Gabriel!" She dumped half an afghan in a heap and rushed to the bedside, dropping to a seat on the floor so they were on a level. His eyes absorbed all her movements, but his face was slack. One hand rested outside the covers, and she stroked his fingers. "I'm so glad you're awake."

He blinked at her languidly.

Mary looked at the other two angels: Raphael exactly where he'd dropped himself on the bed, and Uriel spread out over a pile of cushions in the corner. She touched Gabriel's hand again, and although cold, it hadn't the bloodless chill of before. He curled his fingers around hers and squeezed.

She squeezed back, taking care not to hurt him.

Gabriel put his hands under his shoulders and started to push himself up, then shut his eyes and gasped. Mary rushed forward, catching him as he panicked. Fear. Confusion. Understanding.

"Does it hurt?" she said.

After a moment, she felt reassurance that he didn't hurt. He had just lost track of his position.

He pivoted as he sat up and again endured the confusion. Then he met her eyes and remembered where he was.

Mary didn't release him immediately. "Your equilibrium is off-kilter?"

Biting his lip, Gabriel swiveled his gaze around the room, taking care to keep his head still. A short intake of breath, and his grey eyes clouded. He tried to look around again without moving.

"Oh, Raphael?" Mary patted Gabriel's hand. "He's behind you, asleep. He and Uriel gave a champion effort to keep you together."

Gabriel frowned. Mary sat directly in front of him, knee to knee. "Are you worried because you can't sense him?" He nodded. "Uriel said Satan broke your bonds—"

His eyes bugged, and he clenched his fists.

"—and you can re-bond later when you're healthy, but not right away." She offered a smile. "Raphael was furious about that."

Mary went across the room to get the picnic hamper, then withdrew a thermos. "Would you like some tea?"

A picture formed in her head: water streaming from a cracked pitcher.

Laughing, Mary looked over her shoulder. "Should I pour you a cup of tea and stand by with a towel?"

Gabriel smiled. She unscrewed the thermos top and poured a mug of steaming tea, which Gabriel took in both hands. She'd wondered if he'd be able to make himself solid enough to drink, but he managed that just fine. As he sat with his hands around the warmth of the cup, she opened another thermos and poured a cup of cream of mushroom soup. When he'd finished the tea, she took that cup and handed him the other.

Gabriel took a deep breath as if to speak, strained, then huffed in frustration.

"Don't worry." She rubbed his shoulder. "I know you can't talk."

He lowered his eyes and projected what he would have said.

"You're welcome. Don't try to force yourself." She touched his hair as he raised the cup to his mouth. "Uriel is my guardian angel, remember? It's not unusual for Uriel to go a century or thereabouts without speaking, so that after three decades you find yourself thinking, was the last spoken sentence in 1637?"

Gabriel laughed without making a sound. Then he raised the mug and nodded.

"You like it?" This was new. Mary hunted through the hamper to see what else was inside. Not all of it was convalescent food, but all of it was comfort food. She pulled out the cookies, macaroons, and some cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches on thin slices of wheat bread. She placed the containers on the bed, and Gabriel took a sandwich.

This won't make him sick, will it? she prayed.

He has an angelic body, God replied. He can't get sick.

Mary sorted through the other containers. It's great to have someone who isn't only humoring me about the cookies.

He's trying to make up substance, God said. Below the surface he's aware he's missing a lot of himself, so he's feeling hungry, or what in an angel passes for hunger.

Mary's eyes brightened, and she unloaded piles of food from the hamper. Does it work?

Not efficiently.

She poured another mug of tea for Gabriel and joined him, eating one of the sandwiches. Her heart warmed at how animated he seemed. "I'm so glad you're back." When he paused mid-bite, she added, "I would have missed you terribly."

He avoided her eyes, but she caught the flush of his cheeks.

"I remember the first time I saw you, when you told me about Jesus—it was just so incredible." The experience had buoyed her for weeks; even recalling it made her a little heady. "I'd seen Uriel a few times before, but only fleeting glimpses. But after you came, I was able to see Uriel more often, and I was able to see Raphael too."

Gabriel traced his finger around the edge of an empty plate.

Mary said, "I saw you hanging around sometimes, only I don't think you realized. I didn't know why, but I thought maybe you were looking out for me. Sometimes I'd get scared, but then I'd see you sitting on the well or tussling with Raphael, and I'd feel safe. You were always so relaxed."

She felt Gabriel demur.

"You said the baby would be called the Son of the Most High and inherit the throne of David his father, and I kept that as a shield. If you'd said it that meant he'd live long enough to do all those things, and even that Joseph wouldn't have me stoned as an adulteress. I clung to that." She touched his hand. "You told me not to be afraid. I'd see you, and seeing you made me strong so I didn't have to feel afraid."

Gabriel really wouldn't look at her now.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She averted her own gaze, as if that could make him less uncomfortable. "I didn't realize you'd finished. Here, there's one more thing." She removed a container from the hamper and showed it to Gabriel. "A tomato-basil salad with fresh mozzarella." He laughed silently as she said, "I went to Leoni's on 15th Avenue in Bensonhurst to get the mozzarella balls."

 He laughed again. Mary added, "Then I stopped off at Vasillaros in Flushing to get coffee."

Beaming, Gabriel gestured over his shoulder to the sleeping Raphael. Mary laughed out loud.

They split the tomato-basil salad, but before uncovering the bottom, Gabriel began to shiver again. Mary retrieved Raphael's wings-as-a-blanket and tried to cover Gabriel, but she couldn't figure out how to get it around his own wings. She knew he shouldn't try detaching his wings at this point, not when he'd so recently been in pieces, but she didn't know how the angels had made the room warmer before. She asked God.

They just made it warmer.

But how?

They moved the molecules in the air, God said. It's not that big a deal for an angel.

Mary tried again with the blanket, but she shot God a tolerant look.

The Holy Spirit said, Up on the front of the throne of glory, does it say "Thermostat"?

Mary bit her lip to contain her smile. The room was already warming as she cleared empty containers off the bed. I'm not aware of anything it says on the front of the throne because I've only got eyes for You when I'm there.

The Holy Spirit said, Come back sometime and check.

So I can be dazzled and forget again? Okay. But then I'll have to return again. And again.

The Holy Spirit hugged her.

Really, what does it say on the throne of glory?

"Not a step."

Mary laughed as she put away the hamper.

Think about it.

Gabriel had his wings tight to himself by now, and Mary knew he ought to sleep, but he didn't want to move.

"I'm going to lay you down again," Mary said to Gabriel, who projected a strong negative. "No, listen to me. You're tired."

Raphael stirred. Hearing him, Gabriel groped sideways until he touched the Seraph's feathers. In the next moment, Raphael had burst awake and was hugging Gabriel; Gabriel closed his eyes and leaned into the embrace.

"Raphael, he's chilled," Mary said.

"He's beyond chilled and well into freezing." Raphael positioned himself behind Gabriel and wrapped his arms and then his wings around him. Gabriel had his hands up at his chest, and he kept his eyes shut. Raphael murmured, "Believe me, I'd love nothing more than to talk to you right now, but you need to rest."

Gabriel projected an even stronger negative. Mary explained about the equilibrium problems.

"So every time you move, you have no idea where you are?" Raphael sighed. "I hope that's temporary."

Gabriel's eyes flew wide.

Raphael laid his hands on Gabriel's head, and Mary watched him examine the entire Cherub with his mind. Gabriel relaxed moment by moment as Raphael warmed him, and the room itself continued heating.

How warm are you going to make it? Mary asked God.

In answer, God changed her jeans and t-shirt to an airy dress loosely belted at the waist.

Sitting behind Gabriel, Raphael didn't have to hide the distress on his face, and with the bond severed, Gabriel wouldn't be able to detect whatever realization had created that expression.

Gabriel must have felt the examination end, because he cocked his head and squinted.

Raphael touched his head against the back of Gabriel's and spoke in a hush. "You need more time to heal."

Gabriel rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry I can't be more specific. I've never done anything like this before."

Gabriel reached one hand to his shoulder, and Raphael took it. He sighed. "We got you this far. We'll figure out something. It's not so bad, considering." Raphael's wings vibrated. "Just, when you consider—"

Gabriel leaned into him again, and Raphael squeezed him tight. "Uriel may be able to figure it out."

Five minutes later, Gabriel had surrendered to sleep upright against Raphael's chest. Raphael could probably have laid him down then, but he didn't. For nearly an hour he sang the Trisagion in a low voice, his focus fixed on the Vision. As she prayed while knitting, Mary could feel the relief sheeting off him like rain off a metal awning. It was to this scene that Uriel awakened.

Uriel admitted to confusion about the equilibrium problems and didn't have a magic needle to fix them. The Throne tried to check the repair work, but as soon as Uriel reached inside, a terrified Gabriel flexed out of Raphael's grasp, desperate to fight or flee except that Michael's Guard trapped him. It took a few minutes to calm him.

While Gabriel huddled against him, Raphael said, "Were you able to get a look?" and Uriel replied that things seemed to be holding together for now.

Uriel cleared everything off the bed and put down a cardboard puzzle, spread out all twenty-four pieces, and looked at Gabriel.

Sitting forward, Gabriel frowned.

Confused, Uriel prompted him.

Gabriel studied the pieces for an interminable minute, then set about methodically trying each side of each piece against every other piece. The scheme was thorough and would have yielded a complete picture in an hour, but Uriel cleared away the puzzle and brought out a board with five pegs and twenty-five shapes to stack on them. Gabriel sorted by color, but in order to sort by shape he had to systematically match each shape to every other shape.

Raphael sat stunned. Mary tried not to appear nervous.

Uriel cleared away the shapes and moved on to testing languages, all of which Gabriel could understand.

The battery took over an hour, covering every conceivable area from problem solving to optics to fine motor to social skills ("No worries," Raphael joked. "You'd have failed that on the best day of your life anyhow,") and basic sensory input. Poker-faced, Uriel had a clipboard to mark everything as they went through. Gabriel ate cookies between tests until he got too tired to continue, at which point they made the room dark, laid him down again (once more the terrified disorientation) and told him to sleep.

Gabriel started to sit up, but Raphael stopped him. "Is something wrong?"

Mary murmured, "You don't want to be alone?"

Raphael closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Gabriel's. "No, I wouldn't either."

Uriel said, "We'll only be on the other side of that wall."

"No." Raphael kept his voice flat. "You'll only be on the other side of that wall. I'm going to be on this side of that wall right here."

Mary and Uriel went into the rest of the house, which felt frigid after the greenhouse effect in Gabriel's room.

Mary took a deep breath before saying, "How bad is the damage?"

Uriel projected that Mary had seen it for herself. "I need Raphael to go over this with me, but his senses aren't integrated. He can't see things and turn them over in his mind."

Mary said, "God told me it's all right that he's hungry."

Uriel sparkled with surprise, then a generalized projection Mary couldn't entirely decipher about Gabriel eating the whole time (it felt like an a-ha moment) and then an image appeared in Mary's head of herself heading right back to her kitchen.

Mary laughed. "You guessed it!" Then she paused. "Why would sensory integration affect his speech?"

Uriel shrugged, projecting no worries. When Gabriel wanted to, he'd speak.

Mary said, "He did want to."

Uriel's eyes widened.

"He tried to say thank you, but he couldn't."

Frowning, Uriel sat on a cushion and ran a hand along a beaded curtain. "I wish you hadn't told me that. But there's a lot of coordination that goes into speaking."

"More than for eating?"

Uriel winced. "You've got me stumped. Please don't tell me you said something he didn't understand."

Mary shook her head.

"Comprehension always leads production." Uriel clattered the beads against one another. "I hereby return to not worrying."

"As long as you're not worrying," Mary said, "why is he always cold?"

"He isn't really cold," Uriel said.

"Shivering," Mary said. "Teeth chattering. Response to warmth. What am I missing?"

"It's a spiritual cold." Uriel looked off as if considering a definition. "It's the counterpart of the spiritual heat the damned feel, even though they're not physically on fire. Remember the sound that two pieces of metal make scraping against one another? Doesn't it make your hair stand on end, so you flinch?" When Mary nodded, Uriel said, "He's feeling that constantly."

Mary looked puzzled.

"Something's a bad fit inside," Uriel said. "When the pieces all regrow to their right proportions and shapes, the fit will be better, but I'm guessing now that something needs to shift around, so two bead-edges are too tight against one another or scraping one another, and every time that happens, he shivers."

Mary said, "Can you release the string a little so it's not as tight?"

"Where would I do it?" Uriel dropped back limp on the cushions. "Everything has to heal before I can go back inside to figure out what's too tight. Once that happens, yes, I can shift things where they need to be. Until then, at least he's safe, even if he needs to be in a tropical paradise."

"That's not so bad." Mary stood. "I'm off to my kitchen to heat that up a bit with the paradise of an oven and cookies."

  Gabriel drifted but didn't feel entirely asleep. Although he lay still, his mind thrashed over what had happened...the gaps—in his memory, in his thoughts, in what he could perceive, in Creation where he wouldn't have been—  He didn't want to create one more gap by sleeping again.

He braved the vertigo by concentrating on the Vision as he sat up, and although the confusion struck again, he didn't experience the fear. It was okay if he was suddenly somewhere unknown in space and time, as long as God was there with him.

That would be everywhere, God told him.

Indeed, but it helped to have the reminder.

Gabriel saw Raphael sitting sideways on the rocking chair, back to one armrest and legs draped over the other as he read a stack of papers attached to a clipboard. Gabriel couldn't feel the images in his head as Raphael pored over the sheets, and he flinched.

Raphael looked up. "You okay?"

Well, no, not really. But no worse.

Raphael said, "You should go back to sleep," and then returned to looking at the papers.

Gabriel noticed two new thermoses on the bedside table. There was a note with them, which Gabriel flashed to his hands. This was what the note said:

Gabriel,

I ruivb rkv a cie od gioeu klf a iswqmpa zi euc. Beew wexxrp lqn I cuww qll wyc cneyf.

Uejs

Terrific. Gabriel swallowed against a sick dread before Raphael could detect it, and then when Raphael didn't pick it up he realized how much he'd expected Raphael to respond anyhow.

The handwriting was Mary's; the only reason he could recognize his own name was that she'd used the single pictogram of his seal.

He flashed the two thermoses to his lap. When he concentrated on the yellow sticky papers, he found he could make out the individual letters, but they wouldn't fit together into words. The shorter one he decided must say "tea" which meant the other probably said something like "soup" along with whatever variety it was.

Gabriel took the cup off the top of that one and tried to unscrew the cap, but it wouldn't turn. Mentally he felt into the plastic grooves; it wasn't jammed on tightly. How humiliating.

You're not quite yourself right now, God reassured him.

The smartest angel in creation would not be defeated by a thermos screw top, that was for sure.

No, somehow I knew that, God replied.

Gabriel sent his senses into the center of the bottle to where the soup sloshed around, and he formed a Guard the size of a fist. Then he second-guessed himself and made sure his fist fit into the cup. When it did, he flashed the ball of soup out of the thermos and into the cup.

It worked! Gabriel was looking at a creamy liquid with floating slices of mushrooms.

Congratulations, God said.

I'll take my victories where I can find them.

Gabriel was finishing the cup when Raphael said, "You really aren't going back to sleep?" Gabriel only looked at him patiently. "There's no need to be rude," Raphael replied. He opened the curtains, admitting a flood of sunlight into the room until Gabriel wished he could move to the window and let it slant over him.

Raphael tossed the clipboard into the air where it vanished just before clattering to the floor.

Gabriel frowned at him.

"Nothing you need to see," said the Seraph.

Gabriel glowered.

"So what if they're your test results?" Raphael came closer. "I'm not going to give them to you."

You're not protecting me—I can tell how damaged I am.

"Then you don't need to see a long row of check boxes." Raphael tilted his head. "There's nothing wrong with your Cherub nature, at any rate."

Gabriel sighed at him. Raphael raised his eyebrows.

A cold hand clenched Gabriel's heart then—what if he wasn't the most intelligent being in Creation any longer? That meant Mephistopheles—that would mean Satan had the number one Cherub on his side, and then how—

It's not worth worrying about, God told him.

Raphael pulled his chair closer and looked into Gabriel's eyes. "We'll figure out a way to get you back up to speed. At least you're still here. And that's what's important."

While Gabriel agreed, he'd rather have all of him here, not just most of him.

Raphael met his eyes, and then he looked aside: he'd instinctively tried to communicate with him through the bond that didn't exist any longer.

Abruptly awkward, Raphael said, "When they took you…what was it like?"

Again that cold hand, only now it was a second one around his throat. That tiny room, the blackness, the other Cherub cheerfully explaining the technique, Beelzebub's proposition—

Hands on his hands: he hadn't realized he'd begun shaking.

Raphael met his eyes, and Gabriel looked into them, longing for the depth he knew he ought to be able to plumb but which he found closed off to him, and in its place he found only a similar yearning on Raphael's part. They shouldn't need words. He extended his soul toward Raphael's.

Raphael turned away. "Uriel said not yet. You're still too weak."

Gabriel opened his hands.

"I don't know when, but I'm not taking the chance that I might hurt you again."

Again?

"If you'd died, it would have been my fault."

Gabriel arched his eyebrows. Surely Satan had something to do with it?

Raphael didn't reply.

This made no sense. From what Uriel and Mary had said, Raphael had saved him.

Flamelets appeared around Raphael, and his shoulders and wings tensed. Gabriel couldn't see the front of him, but his hands must have been clenched. His soul vibrated the room around Gabriel, and it would be so easy and so right to immerse himself in that power, absorb it and calm Raphael, invigorate himself and know fully what was the guilt or the admission Raphael was keeping hidden.

Uriel blew into the room. Before Raphael could even turn, the Throne forced him outside the Guard.

Stop! Uriel grabbed Gabriel's hands. "Don't even attempt to absorb that kind of fire right now! I can't say that strongly enough."

The residual flames of Raphael's spirit crackled in the air. Gabriel clenched his fists and set his jaw. He felt like a parched wanderer encountering an oasis as the thirst tightened at the top of his throat.

Uriel's hands touched Gabriel's cheeks, and the Cherub opened his eyes so he was staring into the indigo of Uriel's own. The Throne breathed deeply. Gabriel forced himself to breathe in rhythm, and then again. Those eyes, so deep—but the hunger, the empty space—the chill, the sparkling fire—the darkness, the isolation, the union—

Uriel drew him closer. Look to the Vision. The Vision. God, this is tough. The Vision. Breathe.

Uriel sang softly, "Light of ages, fire of the heart, delight of the soul."

Gabriel joined in. "Ancient splendor and warmth of love, you I know and meet in joy, the breath of me, the light of all, the substance and the soul."

The glinting Seraph energy faded out like fireflies. Gabriel ached, and his eyes burned. He couldn't swallow.

Uriel shimmered, hands trembling.

Gabriel gave Uriel's hands a squeeze, then tried to smile, but he couldn't quite.

Uriel swallowed. "You know why you shouldn't absorb his energy?"

Gabriel nodded. He understood, but that didn't mean it was easy.

Uriel nodded, eyes dark.

Gabriel squinted.

"I sent him to Sidriel," Uriel said.

Gabriel laughed in silence, imagining Sidriel's surprise and then excitement; but then he remembered Raphael trying to hide from him a terrible thing, and he knew that whatever it was, Raphael was sharing it with Sidriel and not with him.

Uriel looked out the window, and Gabriel tried to look as well. Clouds, trees, the darting shadow of a bird zipping past.

"It's only until you're stronger."

Gabriel's hands knotted.

"Sing with me again." Uriel made a mandolin, and together the pair sang and waited.

 

Copyright 2008, Jane Lebak

Cover

Copyright 2008, E. J. Mickels

E.J.Mickels II—aka 'Hisart'— a multi talented artist, has a BFAA in Drawing with Minors in Illustration and Graphic Design from the University of Akron. A veteran of the USAF, he has traveled through Europe and most of the USA.

E.J. ventured out as an Illustrator and has appeared in The Sword Review as well as Ray Gun Revival and in Dragons, Knights and Angels. He also wrote and keeps his own web-site-< www.Hisart.us >—which contains a small fraction of the art he has produced. He works in any medium and is just as comfortable setting at a PC with pen and tablet as he is with a chainsaw, airbrush or welder. He has done custom motorcycle and helmet work, as well as in the distant pas,t worked as a tattooist. He is also a writer, he participated in NaNoWriMo 2005, and maintains his own blog 'Sword and Pen' at < www.hisart777.blogspot.com >.

E.J. is currently the ArtWrangler at Double-Edged Publishing's Fear and Trembling magazine: < www.fearandtremblingmag.com >.