Demonic Designs (To Absolve the Fallen) (56 page)

“Maybe it isn’t for us to decide what is fair,” Alex commented.
 
“I don’t think it’s fair that I’m on this plane when I would rather be at home.”

“Home?” Metatron mused.
 
“Would you like to be at home?
 
Kingstone, I mean.
 
If Jeremiah will stop this feud, I would be more than happy to return you to your parents, who, I’m sure, miss you very much.”

“You’re a prophet killer.
 
I find it hard to believe anything you say.”

Metatron sighed, as if he were very tired.
 
He looked out a window of the plane.
 
“I do what I have to do.
 
It isn’t that prophets are my target, but killing them makes things inconvenient for Jeremiah.
 
It causes him to reassess his position.
 
I wish there were another way.”

“Jeremiah is seeking redemption.
 
Maybe, you should, too,” Alex suggested.

“With all due respect,” Metatron scoffed, “I don’t think I’ll be taking advice from you.”

“I can understand that,” Alex replied, coolly.
 
“But it’s not me who is advising you.”

Metatron looked back at him, surprised.
 
“You are a very intriguing little boy, but your mouth might get you into trouble.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Alex admitted sadly.

“No,” Metatron laughed, “but it could be the last.”

“I was wrong,” Alex said quietly into his lap, thinking back to his last conversation with Matt.

“What?” Metatron purred at him.

“Nothing.”

Metatron, perplexed, returned to looking out the window.

***

“Well,” Abbie said to the prophets who were gathered around the conference table, “we shouldn’t tell Jeremiah.
 
He would not approve.”

“But you do?” Matt asked, hopefully.

“I guess we don’t have any other choice,” Abbie decided.
 
“Jeremiah must live, and Alex must live.
 
But what you and Lao Shi suggest may not be possible.”

Dylan, who was still a little sore from the previous battle, moaned.
 
“I’m going to get a chance to die yet.”

Abbie smiled at him.
 
“You don’t have to go.”

“I’m not sure it will work without me,” Dylan replied.
 
“Besides, I don’t know Alex, but I’m not going to let Jeremiah die if I can do anything about it.”

“Then it’s settled,” Abbie declared with finality.
 
“Matt, Lao Shi, Dylan, and I will go to Vienna.
 
I will try to get the support that I can, but you must realize that we will not be able to realistically hold our own against more than three or four demons—even with Jeremiah’s help.”

“Wait,” Elizabeth protested.
 
“I’m going, too.”

“Liz,” Matt stated, “we need you here.”

She shook her head fiercely.
 
“Uh-uh.
 
You aren’t leaving me behind again.
 
You’re going to need all the help you can get.
 
Leave Marla and Higgins here; they’ll be able to keep things in line until we get back.”

“You’re more optimistic than I am,” Dylan told her.
 
“I have a hard time believing that we are going to come back.
 
The last time
I
had a run in with demons, we were very nearly killed.
 
And there were only three of them—none of those were Metatron.”

“Well,” Abbie concluded, “we all have a lot of work to do and a lot of praying to do.
 
We should get to it.”

           
Raphael exhibited more control than he would have previously thought possible when Metatron took Alex onto the jet.
 
Every second felt like days as he wrestled with his conscience.
 
Should he save the boy, or stay out of it as he’d been commanded?
 
Faith of an angel had to be unshakable; it was the very essence of a celestial being.
 
Nevertheless, Raphael desired nothing more than to banish the errant Voice of God permanently for the audacity of kidnapping Alex, and he wanted to punish Jeremiah for being so foolish.

           
Though he guarded the abandoned farm house in Kingstone, he simultaneously stood inside the jet, listening to the conversation between Metatron and Alex.
 
How he wanted to remove Alex and the pilot from the jet and burst the whole thing into flames.

           
A soft voice tugged his thoughts away from such destruction.
 
“Is it prudent to torture yourself, thus?
 
I can feel your anger.”

           
He knew the angel speaking to him instantly.
 
Neither of them could be seen, heard, or felt by those inside the jet, but each was quite aware of the other’s presence.

           
“You need not concern yourself with me, Anapiel.
 
I’ll be fine.”

           
He felt her concern keenly, but he forced a cool demeanor.

           
“I’m afraid that those of us with the responsibility of watching and protecting prophets may understand a side of the Father that other angels never will.”

           
Raphael laughed.
 
“That is an interesting observation.
 
However, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that your prophet has caused all of these problems.”

           
“Has he?” she replied.
 
“Enoch is clearly mistaken, and he fell hard when responsibility was heaped upon his shoulders only to be suddenly removed.”

           
“By you.”

           
“I was the tool,” she conceded.
 
“But it was always the decision of the Father, and it is unfair to imply otherwise.
 
What we witness now is the plan of the Father as well.”

           
“That much is obvious,” he growled.
 
“And I will not be lectured.”

           
“You don’t speak to a lesser creature, Raphael.
 
It would be unwise for you to dismiss my wisdom out of hand.
 
I have been where you are, watching in horror as the Father’s plans threatened to undo someone I cared very deeply for.
 
But, by the grace of God, my faith was stronger than my fear, and the lapse was only momentary.
 
We do straddle that line between compassion and fear from time to time, don’t we?”

           
“Yes,” Raphael admitted, realizing how close he was to that line before Anapiel’s arrival.
 
“Yes, we do.”

           
“Alex will be fine, Raphael.
 
The Father watches over him even now.”

           
“I can feel that now,” the archangel agreed, suddenly aware of the sensation she spoke of.
 
“Thank you.
 
Let us leave and have faith in the plan.”