Seven Archangels: Annihilation (14 page)

"Raphael should do this."

Jesus said, "I chose you for a reason."

His fingers traced the lavender feathers on Uriel's outermost wings. Uriel stretched a little, then settled back against him. "When should I start?"

"Let him begin to awaken on his own. He's so soft inside right now that you'd tear the eyelets if you tried."

Uriel said, "Until then?"

"Keep hunting for what's missing."

With clenched fists, Uriel prayed, trying to force back fear while holding tightly to the Father, resting against his Son, and enfolded by the Spirit.

- + -

Michael returned to Uriel's living room to find Uriel in prayer, Raphael in the other room pacing with Gabriel in the sling, and Mary setting food on the table in the kitchen.

"Did I forget to tell you angels don't eat?"

"Uriel reminded me before. Have a cookie."

Michael made himself solid enough to eat it.

Raphael returned to the kitchen. "What did the executive council decide?"

Michael took the mug of hot chocolate Mary handed him. "It took a couple of votes, but we reached consensus to send a written warning to Satan that we'd retaliate if he made another attempt on anyone. Until that time, we wouldn't take action against them."

Raphael's eyes widened. "No invasion? Raguel actually voted for that?"

"Israfel was the toughest sell," Michael said. "She nearly burned the place down."

Raphael's wings closed around Gabriel.

Saraquael's arrival spared Michael from asking how Raphael would have voted. The Dominion shook some snow from his hair, told Mary he didn't need any hot chocolate, repeated his protest, then agreed to just one cup. His cheeks were pink and his brown hair windblown.

"You found her?" Michael asked while Raphael tried to demur that he didn't want a cookie.

Saraquael nodded, although a cloud drifted over his eyes. "They had sent her out to patrol the Earth. Her orders were to find lone archangels. Members of the Seven or heads of choirs."

Michael huffed.

Saraquael said, "I can spread the word that no one is to head out alone. Meanwhile, she'll search the room where they worked in order to find anything missing."

Uriel had joined them. "That's of paramount importance right now."

Michael looked at Saraquael, who said, "She told me there was nothing left behind, but she'll check again."

Michael couldn't help but glance at Gabriel.

Wings tight around the Cherub, Raphael paled.

"Parts of us weren't meant to exist in isolation," Saraquael murmured. "How long do you think they can last?"

Raphael walked away.

"They can grow back as long as something is left," Uriel said, "but you can't grow an entirely new piece."

"So we're segmented?"

Uriel nodded.

Saraquael sent a nonverbal question: Do you think you can do it?

Uriel picked up the cup of vegetable soup Mary was trying to foist on someone and gestured toward it.
It will be like trying to put the tomato back together.

Saraquael left. Michael felt his last message—that he was going to write that letter now—but he avoided saying he was leaving before his emotions flooded out and hit Raphael.

Mary looked up. "You guys kept mentioning Rahab. I assume you're not talking about the harlot of Jericho. Is he a demon? I've never met him."

Michael and Uriel exchanged a look. "Rahab," Michael said, and then he looked down.

Uriel only glanced aside.

Mary said, "It's okay if you don't want to tell me. I was just curious."

"Ezekiel 28," Uriel whispered.

"Rahab did fall," Michael said, "but that's not why he keeps coming up in conversation. Before the winnowing, when God was creating the Earth and everything else, he gave some of us assignments so we could participate."

Uriel interjected that God had been perfectly capable of doing the whole thing himself, but the angels were enjoying the process so much that God stretched it out and let them participate too.

Mary said, "Like the way I used to let Jesus stand on a chair and help me bake bread."

Uriel's eyes sparkled violet.

Michael said, "Some of us were told to gather handfuls of dirt from around the globe when it was time to create Adam. Things like that. Rahab was asked to separate the upper and lower waters at the time of Creation. And Rahab, for whatever reason, refused to do it."

Mary's eyes widened. "But this was before the fall?"

Michael nodded. "I didn't see it happen. But after he refused, God destroyed him."

Mary stood in shock.

"Someone interceded," Michael said.

"It was Ataf," Uriel said. "Rahab was a Cherub. Ataf and the rest of Rahab's Seraphim asked God to restore him. God did."

Mary said, "And then he fell anyhow." She looked down. "What a waste."

Michael said softly, "He became one of Satan's top demons, a member of the Maskim like Mephistopheles, Asmodeus and Beelzebub. We don't know exactly what happened, but Rahab tried to prevent Israel from escaping Egypt across the Red Sea, and when he didn't succeed, he disappeared. We haven't seen Rahab for three thousand years, but the reports we got from Hell were that Satan destroyed him by chaining him under the Lake of Fire."

Mary's eyes had a glazed look. "That's horrible."

Uriel stressed that they didn't know if the story was true.

Michael said, "But as Gabriel would have said, none of the evidence contradicts it."

They were quiet for a while. Uriel finally said, "God re-created Rahab the first time. I only have to fix Gabriel. It's an entirely different order of magnitude."

Michael looked at the reddish soup. "But how do you do it?"

"Jesus told me." Uriel moved closer to Michael, studied him, then went partially insubstantial. Michael felt a sudden lurch as his sense of balance told him up was sideways, then a tingling in his fingertips which suddenly seemed a mile away from the rest of his body. The tea cups rattled in their saucers, and Michael heard indistinctly the clattering of bead curtains against themselves even though he felt no wind. At the same time he detected Uriel's marvel toward God for making them this way, and the moment after that the world returned to normal.

Uriel wore a tremendous grin, and both eyes sparkled.

Mary clasped her hands. "That's terrific! If you can grab the parts on Michael, who's whole, then you can definitely move them around on Gabriel!"

Michael clapped Uriel on the shoulder. "And remind me not ever to annoy you."

Uriel sank onto a cushion without responding, but Michael could feel the relief in the air. Raphael even returned from the other room.

"Finally some good news?"

Uriel couldn't stop smiling.

Chapter Ten

Saraquael landed in his home to find Zadkiel playing with a cat while waiting for him. "How is he?"

Saraquael headed straight to the desk, then took his time selecting the right piece of cotton bond paper and the right fountain pen and the best color ink.

"That bad?" Zadkiel set the cat to the side, then again as it returned to her lap. After the third time she flashed to a stand, letting an irritated cat drop through where her lap ought to have been.

She lingered alongside the glass-covered book shelves filled with every sort of book, reference and literature, prose and poetry, ancient and modern, angelic and human. By the bay windows she leaned on the cedar chest and idly rubbed the head of a second cat.

Saraquael mustered up a "Let's get started," so they prayed over the letter, then armed themselves with a thesaurus and the perfect slice of paper. God's court poet, Saraquael chose to word it as tersely and formally as he could to imply grief through stiltedness. Zadkiel convinced him to omit the thinly-veiled threat. The letter stressed that Satan's action had been contrary to the primary law of creation, and he was summarily ordered to desist from that behavior.

"I still think we should allude to what we'll do if he tries again," Saraquael said.

"A full-blown attack would be in keeping with grief and rage," Zadkiel said. "Threatening to do it next time is not. Let's keep him wondering."

"We might as well, since we're wondering ourselves," Saraquael muttered.

Zadkiel flipped her eraser in the air and snatched it back mid-spin.

The Lord approved of the letter, so the two Dominions got it sealed with the Divine Seal, and prepared to deliver it.

Saraquael flicked a speck off the sleeve of his formal uniform.

Zadkiel, dressed entirely in black despite the pallor it gave her, sighed and projected,
Vanity.
Saraquael laughed.

They donned ceremonial swords and black armbands, then flashed to Hell.

Music and the tumult of dancing greeted them at the main entrance, along with a choking odor that God warned them they didn't want to identify. Zadkiel's eyes were already scanning the corners for ambushes—and there were many corners—when a low-order demon staggered forward with his sword drawn but wavering.

"Halt!" Zadkiel shouted.

The demon stopped, its weapon clanging to the stone.

Saraquael folded his arms. "I will speak to Satan."

After a moment, Mephistopheles appeared. "You summoned us?"

"Bring Satan," Saraquael said. "Immediately."

"I assure you I have the authority to handle whatever you want."

Zadkiel rested her hand on her sword. Saraquael didn't do even that much.

They waited.

Mephistopheles waited.

After a full minute, the fallen Cherub said, "Must you really be so stubborn?"

Saraquael opened his hands. "We have our orders. I'm sure you can understand that."

Mephistopheles flashed away, reappearing beside Lucifer.

He stood at the shores of the Lake of Fire, neck craned back to stare at the cliffs surrounding it while keeping his back to the flame-engulfed water. Mephistopheles instinctively pulled his wings closer against the heat. Lucifer didn't bother diverting his attention from wherever he was looking.

"The enemy has sent emissaries, sir." Mephistopheles wondered if Lucifer would respond. "They requested a conference with you."

"Mephistopheles," Lucifer said, drawing out the name, "you have the authority to deal with them."

"I pointed exactly that out to them, but with their typical myopia they want only you." Maybe flattery was necessary. "While you've conferred great authority on me, sir, I'm sure they understand where the real power resides."

Lucifer grinned. "I'm certain they do. I was hoping you'd completed the work I assigned you."

Mephistopheles bowed. "Your faith in me is reassuring, but it's going to take a while."

Lucifer's eyes narrowed. "It's going to take even longer if you keep playing gate-man for the front desk. Shouldn't that be Belior's job?"

"The duty guard requested me." Mephistopheles forced a smile. "He knew Asmodeus couldn't handle two of them, and Beelzebub would have started a fight. The situation required someone with good judgment, and that meant me." Mephistopheles inclined his head. "I can hold two ideas in my mind simultaneously, so please be assured that I'm working on your challenge."

Only then did Mephistopheles realize how he'd bristled. Lucifer looked amused as he said, "Return with me to our guests."

Again at the entrance, Mephistopheles kept a half-pace back because Lucifer liked it that way. Michael's two standard-bearers stood side-by-side, identical in dress and expression. There was no question this was an emissary mission. Mephistopheles drank in the dark ghosts of their eyes, their instinctive repulsion as Lucifer drew closer.

Saraquael projected that they had come as ambassadors, then repeated, "We are here as ambassadors to present this document."

Mephistopheles fought a grin at the subtle insult, but Lucifer failed to react to it. He walked a few steps forward to take the letter but stopped short. Saraquael made the last step and handed off the sealed paper before returning to his partner.

Lucifer read the document expressionlessly, one finger brushing the seal at the bottom. Mephistopheles extended his senses but couldn't detect any emotions from either the pair of Dominions or from his lord.

Lucifer had no inflection. "Have you read this?"

"We have." (Again the double answer as they projected assent.)

More silence.

"What are you going to do in the event that we refuse to comply?"

The Dominions remained silent as shadows.

Lucifer cocked his head. "Make it worth my while."

Again, no response.

Lucifer idly waved a hand. "Dismissed."

The pair vanished.

Mephistopheles stepped nearer, hungering for a look at the paper that Lucifer had folded back along the creases. He hesitated, inched into Lucifer's line of sight. Five seconds. Ten seconds—

"Oh, here." Lucifer handed it off, and Mephistopheles snapped it open. "It's a declarative statement that we violated spiritual law, and an order not to do it again. No threat of impending action. A waste both of their paper and my time."

Mephistopheles gave it a second read-through. "Don't dismiss it so soon. There's no mention of Gabriel. None at all, precisely where you'd expect one."

Lucifer opened his hands.

"I'm analyzing for what's not there, and the other element missing is the actual word 'annihilation.' They said we violated spiritual law and then refused to name what we did."

Lucifer folded his arms. "Just get to the point. I enjoy your conclusions without having to wade through every bit of trivia you compiled to arrive at them."

"But it cuts down on the questions afterward," Mephistopheles said in a low voice.

Lucifer looked amused again, and Mephistopheles tried to de-bristle. "My conclusion is that they're in shock and have no idea how to respond. It's hard for us to know what to do next, and we were planning it. Consider them foundering about trying to cope without the input of the one who would have told them how to cope with it in the first place."