I had been expecting great leaping flames, sinister cackling, and maybe Peter Stormare dressed in all white to greet me in the pits of hell, but that didn’t happen. The first indication that I was alive was that I could see the ceiling fan of my bedroom. Then, like a tidal wave, I felt pain. Everywhere. My bruised hand, my punctured chest, my sore arms—the agony hit my poor senses all at once. I closed my eyes and just lay there until the sensory overload receded.

I gathered my arms beneath me to sit up. It wasn’t easy but I managed to prop my back up against the headboard. Michael sat in a chair to my right with his head resting on the mattress, slumped over asleep. Then, I noticed that his hand, which had been resting near mine, was emitting heat. Michael was alive. Alive.

Then why the hell was I?

I reached out towards him just enough to brush my fingertips over the back of his hand. Michael grunted and rolled his head to the side, peeking up at me through a waterfall of brown hair. A sleepy smile tugged at his lips.

“You’re awake.”

I cleared my throat a few times until I could speak. “You’re alive.”

He stood and perched himself on the bed, brow furrowing with concern. “How do you feel?”

I shrugged one shoulder, immediately regretting it as my chest wound stung. “Like I’ve been choked, stabbed, and handcuffed.”

“It could have been a lot worse,” Michael murmured, tugging aside the bloodstained button up shirt to reveal the heavily bandaged part of my chest.

“I know. Why wasn’t it? I thought I died.”

“You did,” he said in that same soft voice. “But after Father saw what you did in order to restore my life, He decided to wipe your debt clean.”

“So…when I die…I’m not going to Hell?”

Michael finally smiled. “You’re not going to Hell.”

A rush of relief flooded through me from head to toe. I lay my head back, resisting the urge to cry. “Thank God.”

“You bet I did.”

It took a minute or so before I could regain composure. When my eyes were dry and my throat clear, I spoke up. “That reminds me. Does this mean you have all your memories back?”

The smile waned. “Yes. I remember everything about being an archangel, but…it’s sort of bittersweet.”

I tilted my head in question. “Why?”

“The Michael you knew is now just a small fraction of who I am. I will never be him again.” His voice held such regret in it that I reached out and touched his hand, trying to choose the right words to express how I felt. As annoying as his poltergeist self had been, I did like him deep down. I hadn’t even considered the fact that regaining his body and all of his memories would change his personality.

“Who you are and who you were are the men that I owe my life to. You can never disappoint me, Michael.” My words had the kind of truth I expected from someone like Gabriel. I wasn’t the smartest or most eloquent person. However, judging by the relieved expression on the angel’s face, I made my point well.

“Thank you. For everything. Your faith is something no one can replace.”

I waved the comment away. “Knock it off. Just because you got your body back doesn’t mean you get to sweet talk me.”

Michael laughed. As with Gabriel, the joyous feeling filled my chest and erased the aches and pains that had previously resided there. I caught myself wishing he would never leave and cursed my vulnerable state.

Just then, Gabriel walked through the door with a dark-haired Hispanic man I didn’t recognize. They were both wearing street clothes: Gabriel in a black sweater and dark blue jeans while the stranger wore a grey button-up shirt and black slacks.

I lifted an eyebrow. “I’m digging the casual look on you, Gabe. Be careful or one of these Albany girls might make off with you.”

The handsome angel blushed, to my delight. “I’ll be quite careful. Jordan, this is Raphael. He’s going to be treating you.”

“Raphael? As in archangel Raphael?”

Gabriel nodded. I squirmed in my seat. “Geez, I’m really getting the star treatment, aren’t I? Why are three of God’s archangels wasting time with a waitress?”

Raphael spoke with a surprisingly deep voice that had a hint of a Spanish accent in the background. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You made an important sacrifice. You are entitled to a bit of attention.”

That made me smile. “Fantastic. You wouldn’t mind bringing me something to eat, would you?”

“Certainly not. Michael, mind showing me around?”

“No problem.” Giving my hand a final squeeze, Michael stood and led Raphael out of the room in search of food. Gabriel sat beside me and began inspecting the many bandages adorning my body.

“What happened to Belial?”

Anger flickered across Gabriel’s face at the mention of the demon’s name. “We burned his body, but unfortunately the Spear of Longinus did not kill him permanently. Demons are very hard to destroy. Their souls are simply expelled from their bodies and return to Hell where their wretched leader gets them new ones.”

“Guess I’ll be needing a lot more crosses, then,” I said, trying not to wince as he checked my chest wound.

He nodded with a grim expression. “Many. Michael was immensely concerned with your condition. He even went before the Father and Son to plead on your behalf.”

My jaw dropped. “Plead what on my behalf?”

“I think she might want to hear this from me, Gabe.” I spotted Michael in the doorway with a glass of ice water and a Nutra-Grain bar. Raphael entered behind him, glancing between us with a worried look. I eyed Michael’s careful expression as he walked towards me with the food. He very pointedly did not look at me as he handed the items over.

“Hear what?”

“Based on the persistent nature of the demon Belial, I asked the Father to remain at your side until we have determined he no longer wants possession of your soul.”

I sputtered in mid-swallow of the water. “What?”

Michael cleared his throat. “It was the logical thing to do.”

“Logical? Michael, you’re an archangel. You can’t just hang around my stuffy little one-bedroom apartment!” I exclaimed, resisting the urge to throw the health bar at his head.

“I’m not moving in with you and I won’t be abandoning my post as Commander of God’s Army. I’ll just be continuing my job here on Earth alongside you.”

I gave Gabriel a pleading look. “There is no way The Big Guy agreed to this, right?”

Gabriel coughed into his hand. I noticed the upward twitch of his lips. The damn angel was trying not to laugh. “He found it to be an acceptable proposition. I’m quite sorry.”

I palmed my forehead, trying to wrap my head around this ridiculous idea. Well, at least this put an end to the problem of being alone. Lord knows I had never thought it would be ended by way of archangel.

Gabriel spoke up, interrupting the uncomfortable silence. “I can see the two of you will need time to adjust to this change. We will be back tomorrow to check your wounds, Jordan.”

The two left the room in a hurry. Smart angels. I took a deep breath, licked my dry lips, and tried to figure out where to start.

“I’m not sure if you noticed, but I’m not much of a people person, Michael. It won’t be easy with you hanging around me all the time.”

He took a seat at the foot of the bed. “Do you want to know why I volunteered to do this? Other than the whole ‘there’s a demon trying to get you’ thing?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” I hadn’t meant to sound so mean, honest, but I suddenly remembered Michael’s words before I died. They rang clearly in my head, almost mocking me: What if I need you? As silly as it sounded, I felt embarrassed and defensive. Did he still feel that way or was that just the other Michael?

“I may have only been with you a week, but I feel I can do more here than I thought. Yes, it’s true that you are smart and tough and independent, but you’ve been alone for so long. I owe you my life. This is the least I can do.”

I wanted to protest, but I remained silent because he was right. I’d been doing things on my own as soon as I got old enough to leave my aunt’s apartment in inner city New Jersey. She had been cruel because I reminded her too much of my mother. She already had two kids and a distant husband to worry about. Nearly all of the growing up I had done as a person, I did so alone.

That didn’t mean I could accept it. “But I barely know you.”

Michael spared me a soft smile. “Then I guess we’ll have to get reacquainted.”

He stuck out his hand. “Michael the archangel, Prince of Heaven’s Army.”

I finally sighed and took it. “Jordan Amador. Welcome to my world.”