I crashed back into my own body—my poor, broken, aching body. I could still hear the sounds of dying and slaughter around me, but it took a minute for all my senses to return. When my eyes focused, I saw Michael hovering over me. His eyes darted between my face and my chest, checking to make sure I was alive. He sighed—a sharp sound—and brushed his thumb across my cheek.
“Welcome back.”
I coughed hard, shaking and rubbing my bruised neck ruefully. “How did you…?”
Just as I pushed myself up to a sitting position, my hand brushed something cold and wet on the grass. I shrieked as I realized it was Mulciber’s bloody, severed arm and scooted away.
“Oh. Well, that explains it then.”
“You were unconscious. It was…the longest four minutes of my life,” Michael admitted, helping me to my feet. Four minutes. It felt like I had been with Andrew and my mother for at least half an hour. Then again, they did say it was a place suspended from time.
Mulciber—minus her right arm—was on her knees with Ithuriel and Zephon holding blades against both sides of her neck. To my relief, it looked like they’d healed themselves.
She sneered at me. “I should have snapped your neck.”
I punched her as hard as I could with my good hand, relishing the groan of pain that escaped her as a result.
“Yeah,” I said slowly, my voice ice cold. “You should have.”
“This isn’t over, Seer.”
Michael stared down at her with hard certainty in his eyes. “Yes, it is.”
He made one quick motion to the angels with his hand and then ushered me away. The sickening slice of her head being removed from her shoulders still reached my ears. Good riddance. Bit by bit, I could feel my strength returning. The instructions from my mother and Andrew rang in my ears. Time to end this war.
“Come on, we have to get you out of here,” Michael said.
“I know how to kill the false angel.”
He stopped. “What?”
“When I was unconscious, my mother and Andrew Bethsaida came to me. They told me we need to form a trinity in order to destroy it.”
He shook his head. “That’s impossible, we can’t form one without—”
“A conduit, I know. I am one. They told me there is a trace amount of Christ’s blood in me. It might be enough to help combine our powers.”
There was an unearthly roar in the distance and the ground trembled. Michael glanced in the direction where Gabriel was fighting the false angel and then back at me. “I don’t like this plan.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “It’s all we’ve got right now.”
He gave me a grim look, but nodded. “Alright. Just don’t die. I’d hate to have to miss you.”
“I wouldn’t want to be such a bother.”
Michael didn’t smile this time, and I didn’t blame him. He motioned for Ithuriel and Zephon, who had come up behind us after dispatching Mulciber.
“Follow me.”
Michael picked me up and launched into the air, soaring over the heads of angels and demons alike until we reached the clearing where his brothers were fighting. Despite the dismal surroundings, the flight was breathtaking. His wings parted the sky with powerful movements. I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck, resisting the urge to touch one of his wings out of pure curiosity.
He landed us a good ways from the creature, calling for Gabriel’s attention. The blond angel retreated quickly, commanding his soldiers to continue fighting in his stead. The false angel didn’t seem to care. It attacked anything angelic within its reach like some sort of rabid animal.
“Am I to assume we have a plan?” Gabriel asked.
“Not the best plan, but it’s better than nothing.”
He stared at Michael then. “That’s not very encouraging, brother.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” he muttered, but pressed on anyway. “Jordan proposed using herself as a conduit to combine our powers and destroy the false angel.”
Gabriel’s eyes widened. “She can do that?”
“Here’s the Cliffnotes version—I have a small trace of Christ’s blood in me, and it should give us the power we need to kill the false angel,” I said.
He frowned. “Should?”
I put one hand on my hip. “You got a better plan?”
He winced. “Point taken. How exactly are we going to pull this off?”
“I figure a three-pronged attack,” I said. “Gabriel, you trap the false angel in the strongest shield you can conjure and keep it still enough for us to make a move. Michael will drive his sword into its chest to injure it. Raphael will use his healing powers. I think that should release the dead souls that give it its power. If I’m right, that’ll cause all three elements to disengage.”
“It might work,” Gabriel said. “The only problem is that Raphael is fighting Belial, and I doubt he’s going to let him just walk away.”
“We’ll take care of that,” Ithuriel said, glancing at his partner. Zephon nodded. They stepped back and leapt into the air, flying over to the vicious fight between Belial and Raphael.
Michael touched my shoulder. “Do you know how to form this trinity?”
I hesitated. “More or less. I need to release my energy and meld it with each of yours to form a connection. It probably involves some form of physical contact to get it started, just like our healing powers.”
I paused. “I always pictured my first foursome going a little differently.”
Gabriel and Michael both sighed in unison, which made me grin. “Not now, Jordan.”
“I’m here,” Raphael’s voice called out from behind us, making me turn. He was breathless and bleeding, but still in one piece. Michael scooped me up again and we launched into the air. The false angel was swatting angels aside like flies, covered in blood, dirt, and gore. The ground around him was littered with the dead and the dying.
After Michael set me down, I stood in the middle of the three angels, pressing one hand to Michael and Gabriel’s armored chests while Raphael laid one hand on my back. I closed my eyes and reached down inside myself for the power that lay dormant, cajoling it to rise up between us. It felt like a warm, radiant light in my chest: comforting, soothing, and yet the most powerful thing I’d ever experienced.
The archangel’s energy rushed in to meet with mine. They all mixed and blended and then hardened, as if three precious metals had been melted down and fortified into something unstoppable. At last, the connection solidified and our minds were on the same accord: vanquish.
The false angel spotted us and dove forward, reaching its monstrous hand for me, but Gabriel lifted his arm. An invisible force stopped it in mid-stride. The false angel let out a sickening roar of fury, struggling with all its might, but it couldn’t move. Michael stepped away and unsheathed his sword, walking towards the false angel. White fire licked up the blade as he neared the creature. A spot in Gabriel’s shield opened for him.
In the distance, Belial screamed “NO!” just as Michael plunged the sword into the false angel’s chest. No blood came out, only a blinding white light, almost like the one that had been in Michael’s body when Belial tried to overtake it.
Raphael stepped forward as Michael removed the sword, pressing his hand over the wound and closing his eyes in concentration. He murmured soft words in a Latin healing incantation. The false angel began to convulse in his invisible prison, its head flying back in a soundless scream. The light grew even brighter and shot into the sky like a beacon. All at once, the souls of the dead that the sliver had called to it flew from the wound in the false angel’s chest. I felt it in my bones that they were now at peace and crossing over to the other side to see the Father. It was a beautiful sight.
When the very last soul left, the false angel evaporated into ash, nothing more than a black stain and burnt red feathers. Around us, all of the demons and angels had gathered to watch in wonderment, their battles forgotten as the light slowly faded from view, leaving us in the quiet embrace of night.
Belial rushed to the spot where the false angel had once stood, whispering “No” over and over again. He fell to his knees, his face anguished. I couldn’t bear to see the look on Terrell’s face. I took an unconscious step towards him, but Michael laid a hand on my shoulder.
“Jordan…I have to…” he struggled with the words.
I shook my head. “Please…there has to be another way.”
“His soul left this world a long time ago,” he whispered. “I have to put the body to rest.”
I knew he was right. I knew it. But it still hurt.
Belial’s voice was low and mournful as he spoke, and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I recognized the words he recited. Ash Wednesday by T.S. Eliot. God help me.
Michael lifted his hand and pressed it over my eyes, closing them. Seconds later, I heard the sound of the sword slicing through the demon’s chest and the quiet thump of his body falling over. When I opened them again, Terrell lay fallen by the ashes of the false angel, his face strangely peaceful. I knelt and kissed his forehead, my voice hoarse.
“Forgive me.”
“So…what happens now?”
I sat on my own bed in my apartment with Raphael at my side, finishing up the final touches on my new set of bandages. He had healed my arm completely, mending the bones to their former strength, though he advised me not to do anything strenuous anytime soon.
After Belial’s death, the demons had retreated back to hell and all the corpses disintegrated into ash as soon as they left. The angels went back to their various posts on Earth. Gabriel and Raphael escorted Terrell’s body back to his home and arranged it to look as if he’d died of more natural causes. Michael took the sliver of the True Cross to Heaven and then came back to take me home.
“Fortunately, the tornado chased away all the innocent bystanders, and thus there were no witnesses to the event. However, we have people on standby monitoring major video sites for any possible footage. We also have people in the New Jersey police department to help cover up the sudden ‘weather anomaly’ that will be reported by said witnesses.” Raphael stood and put his First Aid kit back in his trademark leather bag.
Michael leaned against the doorframe with one hand pressed to his mouth, looking more solemn than I had ever seen before. Gabriel hovered by the bathroom door, his arms crossed over his chest as he listened.
“Good. I’d hate to have made up some sort of explanation for all this. A movie shoot. A LARP gone wrong.”
Raphael sent a questioning look in my direction. “LARP?”
I smiled. “Never mind. What about the demons?”
Gabriel spoke up this time since it was a little more in his department. “It is too soon to tell, but I suspect their master won’t be very happy with their failure. We won’t hear from them in quite some time, until they come up with another scheme.”
“And Terrell…” I let the sentence hang because it was too painful to finish.
Gabriel cast a sympathetic look on me, walking over and sitting to my right. “His family has already been notified. I assume they will contact you with information about the funeral.”
I shook my head, my smile becoming bitter. “You don’t know his family.”
“Perhaps not, but…if it’s any consolation, his soul is indeed in Heaven.”
I looked up, shocked. “You…?”
“I checked for you.”
A wave of gratitude rolled over me. “Thanks, Gabe.”
“Of course.” He kissed my forehead, standing up.
“Raphael and I need to get going. We will be in contact with you soon.” He glanced at his brother and a look went between them that worried me. Neither of them bade the silent Michael goodbye. Something was going on. Something bad.
I waited until they disappeared out the front door before speaking. “What’s going on?”
Michael looked at me then, seeming to be drawn out of deep thought. “What?”
“Don’t pull that,” I said, my voice confident and bold though I felt confused and scared on the inside. “I can tell when you’re hiding something.”
He sighed. “Jordan—”
“Michael, I nearly died today. I saw Andrew and my mother today. I saw someone I care about die because I was too late to save him. Don’t keep anything else from me. Please,” I added softly, walking over to him. He stared down at me for an instant and averted his gaze to the floor.
I touched the side of his face, like he had done so many times to mine, and made him look at me. “What’s going on?”
“I’ve been reassigned.”
My hand fell away like a dead weight and all the air in the room evaporated. “What?”
He pushed away from the doorframe and walked into the kitchen, pressing his hands flat against the counter until he was hunched over it, closing his eyes. “My Father has ordered me to do cases on my own, away from you, because it’s too…dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?”
He sighed again, his voice heavy. “You know how.”
I touched my neck on reflex, getting a sudden sensory memory of his lips on my skin, traveling down my collarbone. Shit. He was right. I did know how. There was no doubt in my mind that if Gabriel hadn’t interrupted us we would have ended up in bed.
“You can’t contest this?”
“No, I can’t. Orders are orders. To refuse them would cause Him to disavow me from my rank as an archangel.”
My breathing started to hitch up, almost like I was having another panic attack. I wrapped my arms around my stomach to keep my hands from shaking. “So you’re just gonna leave? No more protection, no more help with the ghosts?”
Michael shook his head. “Gabriel will be your new guardian. He’ll look after you in my absence.”
“Oh. Well, I guess that’s fine then.” My voice went cold on its own. I turned my back on him, storming into my bedroom.
“Jordan, don’t do this, please.”
I slammed the door, locking it and pressing my forehead against the wood as if it would push all of my memories out of my head. I’d been a fool. Had I really thought that I could cross those lines with him and not be punished? Did I really think I could have him to myself? The Prince of Heaven’s Army wrapped around my pinky. Stupid, stupid little girl.
The doorknob jiggled and I heard him sigh. “Open the door.”
“Go away, Michael. I can’t do this right now.” I tried not to sound as upset as I actually was. There was a thunking noise and a brief vibration that meant he’d either hit the door with his fist or his forehead. I couldn’t really tell.
“I’m sorry. I am. I lost control. I should have been more careful of you.”
I closed my eyes, steadying myself. “Just go.”
Silence. Then, after a long moment, he spoke once more.
“Take care of yourself, Jordan.”
His footsteps echoed on the hardwood floors until they were faint and then nonexistent. The front door opened and closed, swallowing me in silence. The second he was gone, I collapsed to the floor and buried my face in my knees, hiding my tears from no one but myself.
Stupid, stupid little girl.
I worked a six-hour shift the next day, getting home from the bus at around seven o’clock. I’d made lousy tips because, for the life of me, I couldn’t muster a genuine smile. Good thing Lauren hadn’t been there. She would have pulled me into the bathroom and grilled me with questions about what happened. Not that I could tell her anything. It was against The Rules.
My keys jingled as I took them out of my pocket. As I reached for the lock, my shoe hit something on the welcome mat. I glanced downward, surprised to see a medium-sized cardboard box with a UPS label. Confused, I picked it up, unlocking the door and carrying it all inside. I took the box to the kitchen table and sat down, reading the label on top.
To my absolute shock, the box was addressed to me from Aunt Carmen. What the hell could she possibly have to send me? Notes about how much she hates me? The souls of little orphan children? I tore off the masking tape and pulled the lid apart, going completely still when I saw what lay inside, cramming nearly every corner of the box.
Letters.
Dozens of them.
And all of them were addressed to me.
On the very top, there was a bright blue sticky note with one word on it in my aunt’s handwriting.
Perdónome.
Forgive me.
My hands shook just the slightest bit as I set the note aside and dug into the piles and piles of letters with my name on them in an untidy script. I ripped the first one open and found it was a card for my 10th birthday. I sifted through all the envelopes, finding that each one came from a different address under the name Simon Patras, but they all were signed at the bottom of the cards with “A.B.” It could only be one person.
Andrew Bethsaida.
She had been keeping them from me all these years, never letting me know that for over a decade this man had been sending his love and support.
My eyes felt hot. My hatred for her seemed to be at war with my gratitude. This was truly the only humane thing I had ever seen Carmensita Durante do, even if it had been years too late. Maybe Michael had put the fear of God in her after all.
It wasn’t just letters, either. There were trinkets too: small stuffed animals with dusty fur, key chains with golden angels dangling from them, even a snow globe from Madrid. All at once, I understood. My mother had wanted him to take care of me in her absence, but since he couldn’t do that due to being hunted by the demons, he sent me presents. He tried to reach me, to let me know that someone out there cared. God bless him.
I sat down and went through them all, putting the envelopes in one neat pile and the cards in another with the trinkets and stuffed animals in the middle. Maybe it was a good thing Michael wasn’t around, because I couldn’t seem to stop crying, though I was smiling through my tears. Even in writing, I could feel how much he cared about me—someone he had never even met.
The letters for my sixth through tenth birthdays were all simple and colorful, but the ones after that began to get serious. He didn’t divulge his own whereabouts or the fact that he was a Seer. Most of them said that I need only know that he would look after me one day when I was ready.
“You may be asking yourself who I am or why I’ve been writing you, but just know that I want to make sure you are safe. That is what your mother would have wanted for you, and what I want for you as well. I know that right now things seem at their darkest, but there is an old saying: sometimes it’s darkest just before dawn. There is a dawn for you, and me, and for us all. So hang a night light by your bed and wait for the sunrise, angel.”
A.B.
A fresh wave of tears tumbled down my cheeks, but they weren’t sad tears so I didn’t mind. I wiped my eyes and took the letter to the fridge, clipping it on there with a magnet. I had fought in a war. I had nearly died three times in the past three months. I had been broken and beaten and bloodied. I had lost my mother, my lover, and the man who may have been my father figure if he had lived long enough. I had killed. I had suffered.
But for once in my life, I had love and no one could steal it from me.