Seven Archangels: Annihilation

Jane Lebak

Chapter 20

Jesus returned to Mary's kitchen. "Remiel's about to awaken."

Mary pulled a batch of cookies from the oven, an anachronism in a house otherwise replicating the Nazareth one where she and Joseph had raised Jesus. "She didn't move the whole time you were gone."

Mary spatulaed the cookies onto a cooling rack and then handed two to Jesus. He grinned. "Thanks, Mom."

Joseph came from the outside holding a wooden box, and he and Jesus spent a couple of minutes looking over the recessed hinges and admiring how smoothly the wood passed against itself. "The grain on this is incredible." Joseph ran a finger over it. "I'll be back in the shop getting it stained if you want to come look at the rest of the wood."

"And I'll be back in a bit." Mary kissed Jesus on the cheek. "You take good care of Remiel."

"No worries." Jesus snitched an extra cookie from the rack. "Thanks for staying with her. She'd have known if she were alone."

Jesus went into the back room, like his own, and sat beside the mattress where he'd laid Remiel a couple of hours ago. When he touched her head, she blinked unsteadily.

"What am I doing here?" She sought out Jesus. "What did I do?"

Jesus took her hand. "Why do you assume you did something?"

"Because my whole heart feels embarrassed, and I'm blank on a chunk of time." She recoiled a bit. "What did I do?"

Her hands clenched his, and her eyes glistened.

He didn't look away. "You tried to annihilate your twin."

Gasping, she pulled back her hands, covering her face. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" She huddled over herself and brought her wings between herself and Jesus. He stroked the outermost feathers, but she pulled tighter. "Don't touch me. I'm wretched."

"You were in pain."

"Everyone's in pain."

He laid an arm over whatever of her she would allow him to grasp, and when she recoiled from even that much contact, he murmured to her, "Be still. I'm not leaving you."

"Did I realize how wrong it was?" She clutched at the skin of her arms. "I don't remember anything."

"I'm keeping the memory from you. Do you want it?"

She shuddered.

Jesus understood. "I do have one request, though."

She looked up, eyes molten gold. "Anything."

He waited a moment. "I want you to surrender to me the knowledge of how to unmake souls."

Remiel's gaze dropped. "So I can't try again."

"I want that information reserved to me. Uriel is going to render it back once Gabriel is fully mended, and now I'm going to ask you to return it too."

"Take it," she said, and although she felt no different, she knew that she no longer would be able to insert her fingers into the heartstrings of a being and release them from the hooks and eyelets. She chose not to probe the space, like the gap left by a baby tooth. "Please forgive me."

"There isn't any sin in you, Remiel'shêli." Jesus stroked her hair. "Your soul is as clean as I created it, only scarred."

"Couldn't you remove that too?" Remiel said. "Could you make me not just the sole remaining Watcher?"

Jesus folded his arms. "You don't want to be yourself?"

"Why would I?" Remiel's mouth twitched as she stared at her hands. "I'm kind of like the heel of the meatloaf that Satan didn't want to finish."

"You're hardly just the leftovers!" Jesus shook his head. "He worked hard to get you, and I know every sacrifice you made to stay true." He touched her chin and coaxed her to raise her eyes. "You're Remiel, one of the Seven. Your twin, no matter what he does, can't equal that. You're my own, and he denied me that. You're courageous and wild and amazing. Not moldy meatloaf." He sat back. "What more do you want?"

Remiel's mouth was quivering. "I want my brother."

They both stayed silent until Jesus said, "Only he could have given you that."

"I'm sorry. I know that's not fair to you." Remiel swallowed. "I love you. That should be everything I want. You're everything I need. I should let go of his memory."

"The Irin were meant to stay one unit." Jesus shifted to sit nearer. "The pain is natural."

"It's restlessness. It's longing." Remiel shook her head. "I'm half an angel."

"Half of two."

"Don't tell Gabriel, but two divided by two is zero in my case." She rubbed her temples. "I wish Camael hadn't fallen."

"So do I." Jesus looked at his lap. "I wish they'd all stayed."

She squeezed his hand, and he looked into her eyes. For a long time, he and she regarded just one another, and then Remiel said, "Don't get mad at me for this, but—"

"I'm not mad."

"—but I'm terrified. Looking at him, I see myself abandoning you." She bit her lip as she stared at the wall. "That's too horrible to contemplate. How could I hate my God? I love you. But— He's calling me. He keeps calling me. I want to stay with you, but I had to pretend to be him, to think like him, and it was so easy to do it, as if it were natural for me to hate everyone."

He said, "You wanted to leave. You wanted nothing more."

Remiel snorted. "It was Hell. Anyone would want to leave."

"He doesn't."

She grimaced. "I guess not. But I did stay down there, and—"

"You didn't," Jesus said. "When it got to be too much, you fled in the only way you could."

Remiel rubbed her forehead. "I already lost him. I don't want to lose me too."

"But here you are," Jesus said with a smile, "so it worked."

"I nearly killed Camael!"

"I stopped you." He put his hand on her knee. "Trust me that I won't let you fall. I will never allow you to fall. You chose me, and as far as I'm concerned, you have chosen me for all time."

Remiel's expression didn't change.

"You are mine, and I will defend you." He nodded. "He cannot take you by force or by sin. You're safe."

Her eyes enlarged to full moons.

"As for the connection between the two of you, removing that would mean your ceasing to be yourself, and his ceasing to be himself."

Remiel's spine straightened. "But—"

He raised his palm. "What I can give you is the ability to recognize when influence is being exerted and to send communication in both directions."

"What good is that?" Then realization dawned. "Oh!"

He rubbed his hand over her hair. "The next time he sends you a suggestion, send him one in return. The war will end there."

She laughed out loud.

Jesus roughed her shoulder. "You're all right, Priceless One."

"Thank you." She looked suddenly cautious. "I have one more request, if I haven't already bothered you too much." When he nodded, she said, "I need to apologize to Gabriel for the way I behaved when I was Camael."

He nodded. She said, "I'd like—no, I need for you to come with me."

Jesus said, "He's not going to draw his sword on you, you know." He stood. "But yes, I'll go with you."

  Gabriel shifted to sitting upright with no vertigo.

"He's sounding out." Excitement rang in Raphael's voice as he examined Gabriel. "A bit hollow, but the tone is right."

Michael and Uriel exchanged a relieved glance. Gabriel pivoted toward Raphael, but before he could make it there, the Seraph smothered him in a hug.

"I don't ever want to have to do that again." Raphael buried his head in Gabriel's shoulder. "From now on, you stay in one piece."

Gabriel smiled, projecting that he'd do his best.

He looked around the cinderblock room, oddly emptier than he remembered from when he'd arrived to stop Remiel. The only thing on the floor was broken glass—what looked like pounds of it. All the windows were shattered. "Did a bomb go off in here?"

"In a way." Michael leaned back, hands thrust behind him. "You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice."

Uriel sat, heels tucked beneath, hands folded. "What we've been calling the string is the same part that would have to be disengaged during an exorcism, and as we've now come to learn," the Throne added dryly, "throwing things around during one of those is actually a reflex action."

Gabriel started. Michael winced as he said, "I think you shattered every pane of glass in a fifteen-mile radius."

Gabriel turned pink. "I'm sorry about that."

"I'm just glad you weren't anywhere near full strength." Uriel looked aside. "There were a couple of times I thought the roof was coming down on our heads."

Raphael said, "I thought it was fun." When Gabriel glared at him, he added, "I don't often get to see you really unleash yourself."

"I didn't have a choice," Gabriel said, sounding mortified.

"It was rather impressive," Uriel said, "but we ought to get you back to my place and check you over thoroughly."

Raphael pulled Gabriel to a stand, and he staggered before Michael caught him but didn't experience vertigo. At least, not until they transported him back to Uriel's—when he utterly lost track of where he was, pushing back from Raphael before he realized whom he was with and where.

Raphael looked surprised, Uriel just grim.

The room was hot—stifling. Gabriel was about to ask if they could lower the temperature when Raphael started the process. Gabriel settled himself on the edge of the bed as gingerly as he could, and this time he didn't lose his sense of place. "At least I can talk."

Uriel summoned a black duffle bag and held it up. "Remember this? We're about to find out what else you can do."

So while Gabriel ate cookies, Uriel pulled out the 24-piece puzzle, and he solved it one-handed while Uriel set up the stacking shapes (Gabriel did these with a wave of his hand while finishing the puzzle.) He was able to read, add, multiply (here he lost patience and did calculus until Uriel pronounced him mathematically enabled) and speak any language they tested.

Raphael sparkled more as the tests went on and Gabriel was able to do all the things he hadn't before. "Give me a challenge," Gabriel said, so Uriel produced a three-dimensional five-thousand piece puzzle, all black on all sides, and Gabriel set about reassembling it during the remainder of the tests as the long rows of check boxes on the clip board got filled.

Michael said, "When you have a moment, I need to debrief you."

Raphael said, "You're going to take off his shorts?"

Gabriel burst out laughing.

"Sense of humor," Uriel said. "Check."

Michael brightened "You added that in?"

"He does so have a sense of humor!" Raphael exclaimed, even as Gabriel turned back to the puzzle he'd already half-completed.

Michael turned to Uriel. "Why couldn't he do all this before?"

"I messed up." Eyes averted, Uriel seemed to fade. "Right before Raphael forced me to take a break, I found myself faced with two identical pieces that looked like they might fit in one spot. I was exhausted, and I just picked one." Uriel's gaze turned to Gabriel. "I'm sorry. I caused a lot of problems by doing that."

Gabriel shrugged. "I imagine it was like assembling this puzzle in the dark. During a tornado."

Raphael said, "You forgot to add while the house is on fire."

"Point taken." Uriel's hands knit. "But the misplaced pieces interrupted your sensory integration."

"It wasn't all bad," Gabriel said, placing the 3000th piece. "You gave Michael a chance to beat me at chess."

Michael crossed the room and beat Gabriel at chess again, rapping him on the head with the board while Raphael laughed out loud.

"All kidding aside," Michael said, "I need you to answer a few questions."

Uriel cleared away the duffle bag. Michael pulled his chair across the room, then sat, knees apart, leaning toward Gabriel. "Can you give me a recap of whatever you remember?"

Gabriel spread his hands to create a light prism the size of a shoe box. "As far as I can determine, this was where they held me."

Michael studied the landmarks on the three-dimensional map of Hell. "That correlates."

"This," and a second light appeared beside the one indicating his prison's location, "was Satan's private office."

Michael's eyes bugged. "Really!"

"I could feel it at my back. They'd anchored me with chains at my wrists and ankles, and the chains themselves were embedded in the Guard of his office."

Raphael hummed uneasily, but Gabriel looked only at Michael. "Once they started, it took maybe four minutes until I wasn't conscious of fighting any longer."

Michael frowned. "What about before they started?"

"I was unconscious when they brought me in. I awakened long enough to realize where I was, and then Beelzebub approached me." He glanced at Raphael. "He offered to set me free if I consented to a bond with him."

Raphael vibrated, and sparks glinted in his eyes.

"I've never before had the opportunity to actually choose 'death first.'" Gabriel paused. "Mephistopheles realized what was going on, threw him out, and then explained what they were going to do."

Michael looked puzzled. "Why would he do that?"

Gabriel seemed equally puzzled. "Why wouldn't he?"

"It's generally bad practice to talk to your prisoner about how you're going to kill him."

Gabriel shrugged. "He was desperate to share it with someone. You just know Beelzebub doesn't care, and Mephistopheles would forget the whole thing before he'd discuss it with Belior. I got the impression," he added softly, "that I was the first person to work on it with him."

Uriel projected something that Michael echoed by saying, "Please tell me you didn't help him refine his technique."

"But the making of an angel," Gabriel said, sitting forward and opening his hands, "the way God fit us all together and sustains us—"

Raphael put a hand on Gabriel, who turned and found his eyes wide. "There's theory, and there's practice. Theory has its place, but in practice, he was trying to kill you, so it might have benefited you not to help him."

Gabriel sighed. "He already knew how to do it. There was nothing I could do to stop him. I wanted to find out more, and he wanted someone to tell."

Michael was fighting a grin. "How did they actually do it? Not the specifics," he added when Uriel was about to speak. "The general procedure."

"Mephistopheles and Beelzebub put up the Guard," Gabriel said. "Satan used Camael as a focus and reached into me—" he felt Raphael wince, and he dropped a hand onto his, "—and that was pretty much it. I wasn't sure what to do, and I couldn't do more than protect myself." He turned to Raphael. "It's okay. I'm safe."

Raphael was shaking. "It's not okay! What they nearly did is frightening."

Gabriel said, "Anyhow, right at the end I realized there wasn't any way I was getting myself out of there alive, so I started dumping power into the chains around one wrist. I thought my only chance was to leave enough of me somewhere that you could find it afterward, and the only way to do that was to leave an object behind that they wouldn't necessarily search."

Raphael said, "Maybe that's where the beads came from."

Gabriel sat straighter. "Beads?"

Michael explained about finding bits of Gabriel's essence afterward to help him make up substance ("but not efficiently," Michael said while Raphael stayed very quiet.)

Gabriel glanced at Uriel, whose visage had darkened.

"Remiel searched the chamber and didn't find anything. She might not have checked the chain, though. She was looking for beads." Uriel's head jerked up. "Can you show me how the room was laid out?"

Gabriel remade the light box and set up images of himself chained at one wall, then Camael kneeling between him and Satan, and finally Mephistopheles and Beelzebub behind Satan. "That's pretty close."

"Can you make it exact?"

Gabriel flinched as he thought back to the darkness, the moment. Raphael behind him said, "Is this necessary?"

Gabriel rotated the image so he could see it from his own vantage point, then tilted Camael forward a bit (interesting—that position would have deflected Satan's power without Satan realizing what Camael had done) and then adjusted Mephistopheles' position to the left and moved Beelzebub more toward the center. Odd: he hadn't been able to see Beelzebub during the procedure—

Oh, dear God!

Beelzebub had stepped toward the center of the room to touch Mephistopheles. Maybe they'd woven their wings together, maybe just a brush. Maybe he'd grabbed Mephistopheles' hand as they put up a combined Guard. And how horrible to think about, because what could be more normal, more natural, than for a Seraph feeling fear and anticipation to reach out for his primary Cherub?

"Gabriel," Raphael said.

There was still something of them left inside there, underneath all that hate, beneath the rebellion—

"Gabriel." Raphael rubbed his shoulders. "It's over. Come back to us."

Gabriel shook his head as if to scatter the images, and he tried to swallow past the knot in his throat.

Uriel was studying the box. "Raphael said Remiel was 'spattered' with parts of Gabriel, but I didn't find any less substance in him now than before. In fact, given that Gabriel was healing in the meantime, there was far more."

Raphael's voice had steel. "I wasn't mistaken."

"I'm not saying you were."

Gabriel said, "So it must have been from before."

He detonated the light-Gabriel in the picture, drawing a cry from Raphael. Uriel scrambled nearer. "Now, single out the figure of Camael."

Gabriel faded the rest of the picture and made Camael stand up.

Raphael pointed over Gabriel's shoulder. "That's it! The front of the wings, shoulders, thighs, outside of the forearms, face. That's where she had it all."

Gabriel said, "This is just a model. I don't know what actually happened."

Michael shifted to look from the side. "Bring back the rest of the image and show me where Satan would have been impacted."

"He'd get the full force of it." Satan's figure changed color along its front. "We were practically on top of one another."

Kneeling up and leaning over Gabriel, Raphael squinted at the picture. "Beelzebub didn't get hit."

"Definitely not if Satan had his wings flared and Beelzebub didn't," Gabriel said. "That was an incredibly crowded room. Mephistopheles probably got hit too, but not as much as Camael and Satan." He opened his hands. "Why is this important? You can't go wring them out."

As he sat back, Raphael sent an impulse through Gabriel: He'd like to.

Michael said, "But I told you Remiel's report about Mephistopheles' new assignment." He turned to Gabriel. "Satan asked him to find a means of doing it from a distance."

Gabriel gasped. "I hurt him!"

Michael grinned. "I can't imagine how his substance would react to being doused in yours, but you've got nearly as much power as he does under ordinary circumstances."

Gabriel gave a dismissive wave. "We're not even close here—the difference between me and him is only slightly less vast than the difference between him and God." His eyes shifted. "The only one who truly scares him is Uriel."

Uriel smirked. "Boo."

Gabriel shrugged. "That's my take on it, at any rate. Still, the implication of the evidence is that I hurt him—and he didn't like that. Hence no new attacks. Not until Mephistopheles comes through."

"And Mephistopheles got hurt too," Michael said, "according to this scenario."

"But what damage could I have done?"

"It's still soaked into Remiel after three days," Raphael said. "She went mad after posing as Camael, but maybe the residue had something to do with it."

Gabriel deflated. "We don't need an insane Satan to contend with. He's tough enough when you can Guard him out and fight him."

"He might just be weakened," Michael said. "Remiel dances at the edge of sanity during normal times."

Uriel said, "And I would bet she thought about you constantly. That nurtured whatever of your substance remained on her."

"And Mephistopheles?" Gabriel steeled himself for the worst. "What progress has he made?"

"As far as Remiel knew," Michael said, "none. He'd actually accepted Camael's offer to help him, which is how she found out in the first place."

"That's odd." Gabriel glanced at Raphael. "Can you imagine my not diving into an assignment under the same circumstances?"

Raphael shook his head.

Gabriel's eyes brightened, and his wings raised.

"No, don't think it," Michael said.

"Too late," Raphael murmured.

"But if they could return—" Gabriel said. "If he's struggling with guilt or horror due to what he achieved—if this could shock him into realizing what kind of evil he's become, and then let him repent—"

"We don't know if they can," Raphael said. "You yourself said that. Until one of them tries to return, we won't know if they can't repent, or they won't. It's the question even our Cherubim can't answer, and you're not going to resolve it now."

A huff. "When you're right, you're right." Gabriel reached for more of the cookies. "What steps have we taken to protect others?"

Michael said, "A buddy system for traveling."

Mid-reach, Gabriel raised his eyebrows.

Michael looked down. "We couldn't come up with a safeguard, and the Angels on Earth buddied up naturally, so we said to keep doing it."

Gabriel said, "And you didn't mention an invasion, so I assume that didn't happen either."

Michael said, "Zadkiel convinced us not to."

Gabriel glanced out the window. "It wouldn't have helped, no."

"She actually convinced Raguel," Michael said. "Israfel was the hardest sell, but eventually even she consented."

Gabriel looked at Uriel. "Is there any way to secure a soul so it can't be undone?"

Uriel's eyes dropped.

"There's got to be a way." Gabriel took a deep breath. "Can you get me Ophaniel and Sidriel? This may be a race between our Cherubim and theirs."

"Not yet." Uriel looked at Michael. "You still need to rest. I dislike that the vertigo isn't gone at this point. You're not exhausted right now, but you're only running a little above empty."

Gabriel sighed. "It's not that taxing to think, Uriel."

"I'd debate that," Uriel said, "but against a Cherub I'd never win, so this is an order: rest."

Raphael touched Gabriel's shoulders, rubbing the tension loose. "I saw how much work just went into you. I'm serious about not wanting to do that again, ever."

Gabriel knew Michael would be no help, so he folded his arms. "Do I have to sleep, or is reading legal?"

Uriel said, "Reading is okay."

Raphael gave him a push. "Think of it this way: the sooner you get stronger, the sooner we'll get the bond running again."

"Oh," Uriel said, "I forgot to tell you that—you'd already bonded again when I went in to patch things up."

Both Raphael and Gabriel pivoted, and Raphael surged with Seraph fire.

"It's instinct." Uriel chuckled. "I thought you'd realized, the way you two were reading each other earlier."

Gabriel glanced at Raphael. "Sure, just move right on in."

Raphael vibrated, sending streamers of fire into the air.

"Hey!" Gabriel averted his gaze. "None of that, remember?"

"Actually," and both of them looked up when Uriel started to speak, "maybe you should try it now, under controlled circumstances, with help right here."

Raphael's fire flared; Gabriel still didn't relax.

"Just a little bit," Uriel said. "You don't want him to burn you out."

Gabriel looked at Raphael. "That means less power than an atomic bomb."

Raphael nodded. "Just a warm-up dose."

Gabriel closed his eyes and felt the fire in the air, but more than that, he felt it through his soul's connection to Raphael, like a private phone line between them. Raphael's excitement churned on the other side of the door, and taking just a little would be like standing under Niagara Falls attempting to fill a teacup.

Gabriel relaxed his heart and drew off a bit of the fire.

At first, nothing. Next, the sensation as if he'd bitten into a jalapeno, heat in his mouth and stomach, sparks in front of his eyes.

"You're doing good." Uriel's voice: steady, calm. "Try it again."

Again?

This time he opened the gates as wide as he could, pulling in all the energy he could take at once. It didn't flood him only because Raphael applied the brakes—but the heat, the bubbling, the nearly boiling-over state of Raphael's soul filled him with an urgency to act and a heightened awareness of his surroundings. A compulsive grin spread across his face.

"Don't overdo it." Despite his words, Raphael was sparkling. "You're not completely healed yet, so you're trying to make up substance by pulling in mine."

"Would it work?" Gabriel said, a bit breathless.

Raphael tilted his head. "Not efficiently."

Gabriel shielded his eyes from the colors in the room, and his own breathing sounded loud. Raphael cut off the fire, and he felt his heart make a clumsy grab for it as it diminished and faded.

"He's looking good." Checking into his heart, Uriel had gone misty. "But let that be it for now. See how it settles."

Gabriel leaned toward Michael, charged to work until they devised a safeguard for souls as well as a protection system for the forces in Creation. "Send me Ophaniel and Sidriel."

Michael winced. "You can't tell them how annihilation is performed."

Gabriel stared. "But—"

"God wants that knowledge reserved to himself."

"Half of Hell could have it by now!"

Uriel's gaze dropped.

"So what you're saying," Gabriel said, and Michael finished, "is that it's you against half of Hell." He nodded. "You have to out-think them."

"They've got a head-start." Gabriel folded his arms. "And I only know the procedure from the inside. We're going to lose souls if I can't get our Cherubim to help."

Raphael clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll do fine. You've got God as your lab partner."

Uriel stood. "But later, when you've had time to rest." Uriel and Michael said goodbye, then vanished.

The only one remaining, Raphael moved across the room. "I know you have to rest." His soul's melodic vibrations distorted into a fermata. "But I need to talk to you."

Gabriel reached through the bond, but Raphael distanced himself.

Then a burst of realization. "I forgot—a girl gave me this for you."

Raphael flashed a palm-sized white bear onto Gabriel's lap. "I saw her at the park, and she said she'd pray for you."

Gabriel held up the bear by the key ring. "I'll pray for her too. What's her name?"

"Elizabeth something."

"Oh, the girl with two guardians?"

Raphael looked over his shoulder. "There's nothing wrong with you."

Gabriel shrugged. "It was thoughtful of her to do that."

Raphael lapsed into uncomfortable silence, getting more energized as the moments passed. Gabriel tried to keep his attention on Raphael and not on the Seraph's fire. "Tell me. You wanted to tell me before, but you were too upset."

Raphael folded his arms and looked out the window. "I owe you the biggest apology of my life."

"If we're apologizing," Gabriel said, "I owe you one for being so distracted during hide-and-seek."

Raphael turned. "I'd totally forgotten."

Gabriel cocked his head. "You mean I wasted a good apology?"

Raphael chuckled as he glanced back out the window, but then he sobered. "The reason you were in such bad shape was that when I pulled you out, I held on too hard. I'd buried your heartstring inside my own soul, wrapped around mine, and it couldn't get free so Uriel could return it to the rest of you."

Gabriel nodded. "Go on. There's clearly more."

"Then God made me— He made me let you die." Raphael's head dropped. "And I did it."

Gabriel drew a sharp breath.

"After I told you it was okay to leave me...that was when Uriel found I had your heartstring." Raphael bit his lip. "But I told you to let go. I told you to die."

Gabriel frowned. "I'm unclear whether you're apologizing for saving my life or for obeying God."

"None of that should have happened!" Raphael shook. "I'd gotten a strangle-hold on your heartstring, and that would have killed you!"

"And if you hadn't grabbed so tight to begin with," Gabriel said, "Satan would have kept hold of me in that chamber, and that would have killed me."

Raphael's mouth twisted. "You just won't let a guy apologize."

Gabriel shrugged. "There's no sin in you. The only thing requiring an apology is sin."

"That's not true. Sometimes someone gets hurt by accident or neglect, and that requires an apology too."

Gabriel's brow furrowed. "I'm going to have to take your word for that." He tilted his head and reached through the bond to send his calming influence into Raphael's heart, trying as he did not to draw the fire back into himself. It had gotten easier to resist now that he was on a more even keel, although even brushing past it gave him something of a head rush.

Raphael's wings flared. "None of that. The idea is to keep your energy inside you. Think addition, not subtraction."

"And here I was thinking exponents and calculus."

Raphael smiled. "So?"

"If you insist, I completely forgive you for whatever harm you think you committed against me."

Raphael pursed his lips. "That sounds rather vague."

"What do you want?" He thought for a moment. "Ask God to settle it. If you're right, I'll forgive you, and if I'm right, you'll owe me one."

"One what?"

Gabriel studied the ceiling as he thought, then refocused on Raphael with enthusiasm. "You'll take me trick-or-treating in two weeks."

Head raised, Raphael said, "You could win a thousand bets, but I am not taking you trick-or-treating."

"Oh, come on—you know I need an adult to come with me." Gabriel sat forward. "No one else will do it."

"Then you're out of luck."

"I'm out of candy too." Gabriel stared out the window. "Everyone wants to stop by the library and get some, but no one wants to help me get any of it."

"We can hit seventeen grocery stores on November 1st and pick it up for half price," Raphael said, "but I will not ever, for the rest of eternity, take you trick-or-treating again."

Gabriel sighed. "Well, then I guess if you win, I want a root beer float."

Raphael looked relieved. "I can do that. But what if I'm right? What do I get?"

Gabriel said, a little uncertain, "You get to apologize?"

"I want to see you blow up something big, not just shatter windows."

Gabriel bubbled with Raphael's enthusiasm. "Is there a volcano on Io that you wanted to see blow?"

"I was thinking," and Raphael arched his eyebrows, "supernova."

Gabriel's heart raced with overflow fire. "Deal." Then he paused. "What if we bring this to Jesus and he tells us we're both nuts?"

Raphael said, "You blow up a root beer float while trick-or-treating?"

They were shaking hands to close the deal when Jesus arrived with Remiel.

Raphael shot her a look of disgust before seeing how she stood: wings limp, head bowed, hands clasped behind her. Gabriel had sat up, ready to calm Raphael, when the Seraph averted his gaze and vanished.

When Jesus put his hand on Remiel's shoulder, the Virtue shivered.

"Gabriel," she whispered, "I'm sorry."

"It's done now." Gabriel shifted to sit at the edge of the bed. "You weren't in your right mind."

"I was," she murmured.

Gabriel looked toward Jesus, very startled, but Jesus sent him the impression that he needed to wait her out.

She looked up. "How are you?"

"Repaired, apparently." He raised a hand to her. "I heard you were under the weather, though."

Remiel met his eyes with eyes grown cloudy. Taking his hand, she moved to sit beside him. "Don't make me sad." She rested her head on his shoulder so he could finger her short hair. "Do you know—did they tell you I betrayed you?"

Gabriel looked at Jesus, who again indicated that he should wait.

"Camael—" and here she paused a moment, "said he'd sent me suggestions to get you down to Earth where you could be captured. They said I was too valuable to kill. That's how they captured you." She turned her face toward him. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

Raising his wings, Gabriel cupped her in the hollow. "You did nothing wrong." He took his hand from her grasp and clasped hers instead. "You went in after me to save me."

She shuddered.

"You're so brave."

She shook her head. "It had to be done. I couldn't let you die." She looked at her lap. "But I had to lie when I was there."

He nodded.

"You hate lies."

"If God sees nothing inappropriate with your conduct, I won't condemn you."

She half-closed her eyes.

"It must have been painful, pretending to be him."

She shuddered. "Looking like him, thinking like him, coming an inch short of cursing God but sounding as if I had—I wanted to run to you and set you free, but then I'd be caught too, and we'd both die."

Gabriel squeezed her hand. "We're both safe now."

She pulled her hands free of his grasp. "I told them you screamed."

Gabriel shifted uncomfortably. "I did scream."

"I nearly screamed, too. But I told them you renounced God to save yourself. They wanted to hear something, so I made it sound good. I lied, Gabriel." She bit her lip. "I wasn't even doing it to save you at that point. I was doing it to save myself."

Gabriel gave her hand a squeeze. "I'm glad you saved yourself."

She looked up, her eyes like sunrise. "Do you forgive me?"

Gabriel felt Jesus telling him it was all right. "I forgive everything. If you remember or find out something later that you haven't brought to me, it's covered as well."

Remiel smiled sheepishly. "Thanks for being a good sport."

Gabriel nodded, and Remiel left.

Jesus stayed.

The Cherub looked at him. "Is she going to be all right?"

"She will now." Jesus came to sit on the bed. "You need to rest. You're not healed yet, and you still have one thing to do."

Gabriel squared his shoulders. "I'm ready."

"It's not time. You'll need to be stronger when the time comes."

Gabriel nodded. "Tell your mom thanks for the cookies." He offered Jesus the plate.

"The thanks are to you for enjoying them." He chuckled as he took one. "She's having a ball cooking for you."

Gabriel smiled. "And thank you for everything, the way you sent the others to save me, the way everything worked out just right, even if there were a few snags." He looked at the half cookie in his hand. "If it hadn't been me, Raphael wouldn't have been able to pull the angel out. If it hadn't been Raphael pulling, the healing wouldn't have been as powerful, and the heartstrings wouldn't have been as protected. If it had been anyone else—"

Jesus sat closer. "But it wasn't anyone else. It was going to happen to someone, so I let them choose the one with the best chance of survival."

"Thank you," Gabriel said, meaning it. He finished the cookie, then added, "Michael looked overwhelmed."

"He's in unfamiliar territory right now."

"I hope he's leaning on Saraquael." When Jesus nodded, Gabriel smiled. "He never notices it, but Saraquael is the most competent angel in the host. Michael could mention, 'I lost my favorite safety pin somewhere on Earth,' and half an hour later Saraquael would return with it in a Ziploc baggie."

Jesus laughed out loud. "And then he'd ask if there was anything else Michael needed."

Gabriel chuckled. "And poor Uriel, thrust into center stage."

"Uriel did an excellent job."

"No question, although—" Gabriel hesitated. "On the receiving end, that was a workout. I know it's not logical, but I hated that Uriel's hands were manipulating my person, and I couldn't object because it was helping me."

"Regardless of logic," Jesus said, "the objection has its validity. Under ordinary circumstances, that kind of contact would have been highly inappropriate."

"It felt more uncomfortable than when Satan tried," Gabriel said. "I couldn't recoil from Uriel."

Jesus nodded. "You've noted in the past that the will can be defiant even if one submits in form, as Remiel did. Against Satan, even though he had you bound, you resisted. Your will was the weapon you used to protect yourself. Toughening it against Uriel would only have hindered Uriel, and ultimately harmed you."

Gabriel sat forward. "Are you indicating the will is what we're calling the heartstrings?"

Jesus nodded. "It's as close as you've come to describing it well."

Gabriel pivoted on the bed so he sat on his heels with his wings cupped, hands on his knees as he leaned toward Jesus. "And the beads, those are the personality components?"

"But you're missing a third part of the equation," Jesus said.

Gabriel rubbed his chin, then gasped. "Energy! There's will, talent and energy, and they all function together to formulate the living soul."

Jesus grinned as Gabriel hashed out three different scenarios describing the give-and-take between the parts, discarding each hypothesis partway through in favor of a more workable one. Jesus tossed questions back at the Cherub every few minutes, firing up Gabriel into talking more animatedly, conjuring light designs for models of the soul, throwing around ideas for experiments, and at one point sitting back to exhale slowly when he abruptly lost his own train of thought.

Jesus looked amused. "Too many ideas whirling around?"

"I'm sorry." Gabriel was breathless. "You've never discussed this with any of us before, have you?" He flung his arms around him. "I love you!"

Jesus laughed. "You're like a Seraph right now."

Gabriel sat back. "Tell me more. If the will is the string, why isn't it possible to compel the string to relinquish its hold on all the beads at once?"

"The segments are all subordinated to the will," Jesus said, "but the energy seals it together, and the 'eyelets' are mounted very strongly with a natural adhesion to the string. Since one's personhood derives its power from the will, it can't detach or annihilate itself."

About to shoot back another question, Gabriel grew quiet.

"Go on." Jesus folded his arms. "I've been waiting for you to get to this point."

Gabriel gave him a dark look, then focused on his hands and sat back properly. "When Rahab was destroyed, there was nothing left." He sounded like a deer on hearing the first rifle crack during hunting season. "But with me, parts would have been—actually were—drifting around, even that disembodied will. Would I have retained any awareness?"

Jesus said, "I would never permit such an atrocity to happen to one of my own."

"But if I could be near you in that state—"

"Gabri'li," Jesus said, "I would not want you to suffer. There would be no fragmentation, no awareness of former state or present. As for the soul parts and the will, without being united and sealed by your energy, or by someone else actively nurturing them, they would dissolve in about a day and a half, which was what was happening to you when I forced Raphael to let you go."

Gabriel bit his lip. "I wouldn't have wanted to have that conversation with him."

Jesus said softly, "I didn't want to, either."

"But you can't pass the buck." Gabriel's brow furrowed. "How did you get him to agree?"

"It was going to be a shouting match no matter how I did it," Jesus said. "But you understand Seraphim. Quick to fly off the handle, quick to apologize afterward. The chief object of the conversation was to get him to release you and not rebel."

Gabriel frowned. "Surely if you'd explained—"

"Then he'd have kept hold of your will because he'd still be working to insure you survived. He couldn't hold onto you and let you go at the same time."

Gabriel's gaze dropped.

Jesus said, "I felt bad for him too. But there was no other way."

Gabriel deflated. "If it had come down to it, if he refused to obey, I'd hope you would have let me die rather than let him rebel."

Jesus said, "If it had come right down to it, if he would not under any circumstances have obeyed a command to let you go, I would have done exactly that."

Gabriel let off a sigh.

Jesus rested a hand on his shoulder. "You've got a list of people a mile long who want to see you." He stood. "Have one more visitor, and then you need to rest."

Gabriel shook his head. "Not someone who's going to apologize to me. That's my only request."

Jesus said, "Granted. One visitor who is not about to apologize to you. Israfel—?"

Israfel appeared. Smiling uneasily, she looked at Gabriel, then turned to Jesus.

"He wanted to speak to someone who wouldn't apologize for anything. Go ahead and talk to him—with no apologies."

Gabriel had only just enough time to realize he didn't like how that sounded before Jesus was gone.

Israfel sounded uncertain. "They said you're doing okay."

Gabriel nodded.

"I'm glad." Except she didn't look glad, only uncomfortable.

Gabriel couldn't figure out what the next part of the conversation should be. Wishing for Raphael's flair, he said, "Apparently I'm able to bond again. If you want—"

"Since you mention it," she said, "I don't."

Gabriel's heart bottomed out.

Israfel pulled up a chair and straddled it, crossing her arms on the back and resting her chin on her wrists. "Raphael said the one thing you regretted was me."

Heat surged through Gabriel. "What possessed him to say that?"

"Uriel needed a regret to put tension on the string. Kind of like a plumb line. I got to save your life by being left out in the cold."

Gabriel stopped trying to meet her eyes and instead looked out the window.

"Your attitude didn't bother me until Raphael said you regretted ignoring me all the time," Israfel said. "Afterward, I was really irritated. We used to talk or go places or do things. You'd stop by on my assignments to criticize the way I did them, and I'd tag along on yours to give it right back. It was a lot of fun." She folded her arms. "You used to show up when we were sitting around singing and just join in. But not anymore."

Raphael's voice in his mind: Gabriel?

Not now. I'm getting my head handed to me.

Then I won't bother telling you she's on her way.

Gabriel checked on Israfel, but she still wasn't looking at him, only glaring at the floor.

"You've forgotten we were bonded. Everyone else has forgotten we're bonded. You were going to die and it was 'Poor Raphael,' 'How horrible for Raphael,' 'What's Raphael going to do?' and I found reminding them you were a primary of mine also, only how would I know any longer?"

Gabriel managed, "I'm sorry."

She fixed a stare at him. "I'm tired of you being sorry! In your brain it was always 'eternity is a long time—I'll get around to her someday,' except that someday nearly never came. And you know what I realized?" When Gabriel looked at her blankly, Israfel said, "I realized I didn't feel scared about going forward without you. You'd bet if Ophaniel or Zophiel died I'd be crazed, but you—it just made me wistful."

Gabriel closed his eyes.

Israfel said, "I talked it over with both of them, and they agree. I'm the chief of the order of Seraphim—I don't have to stand around waiting for someone to notice me."

Gabriel shook his head.

"Well?"

"I've been a lousy friend."

"You're absolutely right you've been a lousy friend!" Flames appeared around her eyes and vibrating wings. "Do you blame me for being sick of it?"

Gabriel swallowed. "No."

It was easier to avoid her fire than Raphael's. Gabriel knew he could pull those flames from the air, curl into her heart and bond her whether she wanted or not, and therefore he made certain to keep his soul contained.

"I don't know what else you want me to say. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Life just kept getting in the way." The pitch of her voice had raised. "Everything else around you was more important, and you knew I'd always be around if you wanted. Well, I'm not any longer."

And she vanished.

Gabriel reached for Raphael's mind. Remember when you said I wouldn't pass the social tests on the best day of my life? He sighed. This must be the best day of my life.

Raphael sent back wordless reassurance, then a question. Gabriel told him no, leave Israfel alone.

When she didn't return, Gabriel stretched out on his stomach, but the tension in his neck and wings wouldn't go. Part of him wanted to remain on guard. It didn't make sense because he was safe, but it felt wrong to be alone.

He shifted to the Vision. You're with me?

Absolutely.

I hurt her, didn't I? He rested his head on his arms and closed his eyes. Help me make it right.

This also meant he was about to lose a bet with Raphael, because he hadn't sinned against Israfel, but he knew simultaneously that he'd needed to apologize to her and that it hadn't been enough.

Though tired, his body refused to sleep. After five minutes of mental thrashing, he curled on his side, drew up his wings around his body and over his head, and stared into the lightless cocoon he'd made of himself.

Things to think about:

1. How to protect an angel against annihilation

2. Israfel

     A) making amends

          1) gift? letter? something?

     B) going forward

          1) new ground rules

          2) substitute the bond

3. Remiel - personal healing

     A) how to deal with her when she realized she'd hurt him

4. Prevention of future attacks

     A) replace anemic buddy system

     B) network system

     C) early warning system, information distribution

Prioritization: protection seemed to be the number one priority, although potentially prevention ought to take precedence. Of course, if he could render an angel immune to the attack, prevention would have been accomplished anyhow. Therefore the obvious schema—

Fire again in the room, more subdued. Gabriel opened his wings and found Israfel again, seated by the window.

"Apology accepted," she spat.

"Wait." Gabriel scrambled upright. "Stay and let me talk."

She folded her arms.

"You're entirely right." He tried not to look into her face. "I say that at risk of angering you again. We should have had this conversation centuries ago. Thank you for not pretending any longer."

Although he could feel her glare on him, her fire was down; she must have gone to Ophaniel and dumped power like crazy.

"The question is," Gabriel said, braving a look at her, "what do we do next?"

She opened her hands.

"How can I make it right?"

Her eyes tightened even as the fire surged. "You can't make it right."

Gabriel slumped. "You're not giving me much to go on."

"I don't have to give you anything to go on."

"You don't." He traced one finger over the edge of a blanket. "But we're going to be working together for a long time now that I'm not dead. If you walk off now, we can avoid one another for years—"

"Which you do just fine."

Touché. "But eventually we'll have to deal with one another, and it's no good if you're angry and I'm unsure how you'll work with me. It's in our best interests to at least work out some ground rules."

Israfel crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair.

Gabriel's head swam, but he sat up on the bed. "I respect your decision not to re-bond. I'll talk to Sidriel about a way to form a tertiary bond—"

"I don't want any level bond."

"If you'll let me speak, we have to form a tertiary if you don't want a primary, otherwise at some point one or the other of us is going to reach out at the wrong time and we'll have a primary once more because our souls were made for that level. Either we fill the slot with something else, or else you're going to be stuck with me again."

Israfel's frown eased a bit. "All right. Thank you."

Gabriel averted his eyes. "The next thing is, I know I can't make amends, but I at least want to offer you this: there's nothing wrong with you. I get my head in the clouds and get consumed by ideas, and I only end up with Raphael because he drags me away. If he didn't do that, I'd never see him either, so it's not that you're unworthy or a bother."

No protest from Israfel.

"I didn't want to hurt you," Gabriel said, "and I'm sorry I already have, because you didn't deserve that."

She sounded tentative. "Do you think we can re-make a tertiary?"

"I'll have to work on it. Deliberately under-bonding has never been done before, but that doesn't mean it's impossible."

She nodded.

He felt God prompting him, but he froze inside. A peek at Israfel showed her so— He couldn’t describe it.

Talk, God told him, and he knew he had no words, so he said, "But—"

There was hesitancy in her eyes.

"Maybe," he said.

"You're not going to do better," she said.

"What if," he said, "we work on the tertiary problem, but—" His head hurt. "What if I made time for you in the meanwhile? And then when we have a way to make a tertiary, you decide what level to re-bond."

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't pity me."

He opened his hands, but he looked only at his lap. "You're right that we used to spend time talking and going places, although I dispute that I only ever tagged along on your missions to criticize you."

After a moment of silence she said, "It happened so gradually. But we used to have fun, and—" He looked up in time to see her eyes go from sky blue to hard like a dagger's silver. "What do you have in mind?"

"We set up a schedule," he said, "iron-clad so I don't go wandering off into research. And you come get me if I forget."

She recoiled. "That's patronizing."

He squinted. "To me or to you?"

"I guess to both of us, but mostly to me. I have to be scheduled into your life?"

Gabriel blinked. "There's nothing wrong with a schedule. Schedules exist to make sure important things get done."

Smirking, she tilted her head. "Do you schedule prayer too?"

His ears felt hot. "Yes."

She stared, open-mouthed.

"I pray at other times too." He had the distinct impression she was laughing at him. "But I've scheduled the minimum acceptable amount."

Dead silence reigned for a minute. Moderately dizzy now, Gabriel reached for God, who sent back reassurance.

Israfel said, "You are one-hundred-percent a Cherub."

Gabriel quirked a smile. Thank you for noticing.

"If it's good enough for God," she said, "I'll take it too. So you were thinking one hour a week, pushed off to the 167th hour when your alarm went off and you realized you were about to blow the deadline?"

"Actually," Gabriel said, "if I wait until the 167th hour, it would be more efficient at that point to spend two hours together and take care of the next week's obligation as well."

In the next second, Gabriel wished he hadn't said that.

But Israfel laughed out loud, and her fire sparkled, and Gabriel let out a long breath.

"I think that's okay," she said. "Then we'll decide later."

Feeling distanced and hazy, Gabriel let Israfel touch her wingtips to his. When she flashed away, he collapsed gratefully onto the bed.

I hope there's nothing more right now, he prayed.

Sleep, God said, and Gabriel obeyed.

 

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 >.