Seven Archangels: Annihilation (33 page)

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—"