by Josh Raymer
“If I told you, it would influence the decision. But know this: God is always close by. He is never apart from you, even when it feels like you’re alone. Call out to him, and he will answer you. It might not be his audible voice like you’ve heard today, but my father always equips those he calls and answers their prayers.”
I can feel our time together coming to an end. Any moment, my consciousness will return to my body. Knowing this may be my last chance to speak with God’s son, I say the thing I’ve wanted to tell Jesus since I was a little boy listening as Mom read me Bible stories before bed. It’s a little corny, but I don’t even care.
Thank you for what you did on the cross.
“It was an agonizing choice,” Jesus admits. “But I’d do it all over again for you.”
With Jesus’s words still ringing in my ears, I zoom up and out of God’s throne room, the twinkling light of a million souls stretching out like shooting stars.
Chapter 13
13. Never Too Late for a Change of Heart
Augustus and Bron are waiting for me when my consciousness returns to my body. As I lift my chin from my chest, they’re both staring at me with an expression that mixes concern and bemusement. After my experience in the throne room, it’s nice to see flesh and blood people, not souls with bodies made of light.
“I saw them,” I tell Augustus, my voice quavering. “My parents.”
“I saw Marianne,” he tells me in response.
“How was it?” I ask him.
“It was good,” he says. “So, so good.”
Then he’s crying, and I am too. We wrap each other up in an embrace and just sob, the pooled-up emotions that we’ve been silently drowning in for decades pouring out. I feel the tension release in Augustus’s rock-solid shoulders.
For a long moment, Heaven isn’t at war. Angels aren’t trying to kill us. My hometown isn’t being ravaged by demons, and my friends and family aren’t putting their lives at risk to stop it. We’re just two men dropping our guard and giving ourselves permission to let go of the pain we’ve been carrying.
When we finally pull apart, Augustus’s eyes are puffy and red.
“God, we look like shit now,” he says with a laugh.
“I’ve always been an ugly crier,” I tell him.
“Apparently, it runs in the family,” he says.
I felt lighter before, when I acknowledged my need for control and started to release myself from it. Now I feel almost weightless. It’s like I’ve shrugged off a couple of hundred-pound bags from my shoulders whose weight I’d grown numb to.
Trying to control everything since Dad died. Living with the doubt of what happened to my parents since they both left us. In the past few days, carrying around the gigantic “why me” question tied to my nephilim destiny.
God just helped me toss those bags to the side. I know my parents are OK. I can see how much my desire for control has been limiting me. I still have questions about what Jesus told me—and the impossible decision I’ll face—but at least I now know my selection wasn’t random, nor was it done to punish Augustus.
“So you saw your parents?” Augustus asks me.
“I did,” I say as I wipe the tears off my cheeks. “They were so happy.”
“Marianne was the same way,” Augustus tells me. “As beautiful as the day I met her. I didn’t see her at first. But like Bron said, something drew me in her direction. It was like driving down a road I hadn’t been on in years. It felt natural. It felt right. I walked right up to her and knew in an instant it was her.”
“She was celebrating, wasn’t she?” I ask him. “So full of joy she could burst.”
“Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
“And how do you feel, Augustus?”
This question comes not from me but from Bron. Augustus turns around to stare at the bronze giant, then looks back at me with a shocked but bemused look.
He doesn’t dismiss Bron’s question, though. Like me, I think Augustus is starting to appreciate the giant’s surprising grasp of human emotions. Maybe it’s doing him some good to spend so much time with us and our messy feelings.
“I feel the best I’ve felt since the day she died,” he tells Bron. “The guilt I was carrying was so corrosive; I’m surprised it didn’t burn right through me. I’ve still got some processing to do, but that moment meant everything to me.”
He turns to face Bron, his expression earnest. “Thank you for taking me.”
“You’re welcome, my friend,” Bron says stoically.
“Alright,” Augustus says, shaking his arms out, “let’s talk more about our feelings after we stop these angels from killing each other. Sound good?”
I nod and reply, “Works for me. Did you see Moses and get what we need?”
“We did. Thankfully, Moses was more receptive to us than the archangels were. He’s still plugged in, too. Knows that the throne room might be in danger.”
“Moses told us the locations of the three zones on Earth, and we know what must be done to turn them into angel traps,” Bron adds. “Our challenge now is to mobilize forces in those areas to complete the necessary rituals.”
“Thankfully, one of the three zones is in the United States, so Colin and his crew can handle it,” Augustus continues. “It’s near Lawrence, Kansas. I know a couple guys who operate there, but I wouldn’t trust them with a job like this.”
I’ve already spotted a couple of flaws in the plan to use Colin for this job.
“Jersey is pretty far away from Kansas,” I tell them. “And even if it wasn’t, Colin and his team aren’t going to leave Sherwood unprotected to travel out there.”
“They won’t have to,” Augustus tells me. “We’re going to send an angel down to teleport our three teams to their respective zones. It’ll be much safer and much faster than driving out there. Colin and them will be gone for an hour, tops, and they only need two men for the job. Forrest and Grace can stay behind.”
“Why not send me down to teleport them?” I object. “I can get down there and move all three teams before we can find an angel who’s willing to help us.”
“That’s true,” Augustus counters. “But there’s two things you aren’t considering. One, when the angels find out we’re moving people to the zones, they’ll come after us full force. I need you here for the fight. Two, when you see your friends and family, you won’t come back up here. You and I both know that.”
I stare at the ground, not able to meet Augustus’s eyes. He’s right, of course. If I got sent back right now, there’s no way I’d come back to Heaven to finish the fight up here. I just wouldn’t have the strength to leave—never mind the dying part.
I see Peter, Colin, and the others in my mind’s eye, and my heart longs to see them again, but I know they’ll have to wait. Augustus is thinking more rationally about this than I am. Now is the time to latch onto his plan and execute it swiftly.
“You’re right,” I admit. “So we need to find an angel who’s not only sympathetic to our cause but willing to leave his comrades’ side, go to Earth, and teleport three teams to zones where they can set up traps to ensnare him and said comrades.”
“Well, when you put it like that, it does sound pretty stupid,” Augustus says. “I’m open to other ideas. The upshot of mobilizing forces without the angels involved is that it won’t take as long up here as it does down there due to the time distortion. The downside is that we’re so up against it. Every second we lose is valuable.”
There’s a long stretch of silence as we all think through our options, none of which is very appealing. The best move right now seems to be to figure out the teams, relay the message, and get them in motion while we try to secure faster transport. If we don’t find a willing angel, then at least the wheels are already turning.
“I
could…” Bron says hesitantly, his hand stroking his chin.
“What, Bron?” Augustus asks. “You could what?”
“I could go,” he says more emphatically. “I could go to Earth and transport the teams. I haven’t been there since the days of Ezekiel, but I still know the place very well, having helped God design it. Yes, I believe I could fulfill this task for us.”
It’s not a bad option. Bron is right—he knows Earth, knows where the zones are, and has the ability to travel via wormholes like the angels. And if I’m being honest, he is not going to be much use up here when it comes to fighting the angels.
Still, there’s something reassuring about his presence. I know Augustus is familiar with Heaven’s layout, but Bron has been like a guide since I got here. Losing him, if only for a short time, would feel like trying to navigate with one eye closed.
When I look at Augustus, though, I know we’re in agreement: this is the best plan.
“You’re right,” I tell the bronze giant. “You should do it. We’ll save time and know that our friends are safe, that the angel we send won’t try to kill them instead.”
“I am glad you agree,” Bron tells me. “Our next step is determining which teams will conduct the rituals for each zone. Colin and Peter will handle the graveyard in Lawrence, Kansas. The other spots are in Rio de Janeiro and Jerusalem.”
My face crinkles up in surprise at this information, which Augustus sees.
“At the spot where Christ the Redeemer is staring, and Golgotha…” he begins.
“The site where Jesus was crucified,” I finish.
“Exactly,” he says. Turning to Bron, he adds, “For Rio, pick up Adriana and Francisco Machado in Manaus. Grab Aviv Cohen and Omer Levy for Jerusalem. They’re in Tel Aviv, but they know Golgotha. They protect it from demons.”
“They won’t hesitate when I show up asking them to come with me?” Bron asks.
It’s a fair question. Nobody has ever seen Bron on Earth, and trust is a precious commodity in our line of work. I’ve learned that lesson in just a few days.
“They will if you say the right thing,” Augustus answers assumingly. “They’ve all worked with me before, and we developed a code phrase to indicate people who can be trusted. Just tell them, ‘Orion’s belt is shining bright this evening.’”
I laugh and ask, “Where did that come from?”
“We shared a love of astronomy,” he answers, “and wanted to sound low-key.”
“If you said that to me, Augustus, I would immediately suspect you were involved in subterfuge or spy craft,” Bron says flatly. “I would not trust you at all.”
“Noted,” Augustus replies with a wry smile. “Nevertheless, use that phrase with them, and they’ll drop everything to come with you. All the stuff Moses told us they’re going to need for the ritual, they’ll either have it, or they can get it.”
“Drop them off where they need to be and then haul ass back up here to help us end this war,” I tell the bronze giant. He gives me a funny, quizzical look.
“Is it possible, Silas Ford, that you have grown fond of my presence?” he says.
“Don’t make it weird,” I reply with a laugh. “It’s helpful to have another brain around, especially one that knows this place so well.” He stares at me, unblinking, his mouth slightly upturned. “OK fine,” I admit. “Yes, we’re going to miss you.”
“I knew it,” he admits, a slight note of victory in his voice. “I will miss you as well, but I will return soon enough. The other step besides preparing the traps—killing the archangel Michael with his own weapon—should be your focus while I am gone. What will you two do to prepare for that moment?”
I haven’t thought too much about this part since it was first brought up. It seems so impossible that even thinking about where to begin hurts my brain. Like trying to scale Mount Everest with a candle and nothing on but a pair of socks.
“We have to even the odds,” Augustus declares.
Thankfully, he’s put more thought into this part of the plan than I have. Hell, he might have been scheming on how to kill Michael for a long time. Based on how they treated us, I’m guessing there’s no love lost between those two.
“How do you plan to do that?” Bron asks.
“We’re going to track down some armory weapons,” he clarifies.
Hearing the words “armory weapons” triggers a memory that hits me like a thunderbolt. There I am, in my mind’s eye, striking down an angel with a golden stone unfurled from David’s sling. Whatever happens that leads to us having that weapon in the final battle, it begins right now.
“We’re going after David’s sling,” I tell the group. They both look at me sideways, confused. “I saw it in my vision with the time trees. I didn’t mention it earlier, but in the vision, I struck down an angel with a stone thrown from David’s sling. You’re on the exact right path, Augustus, even if you didn’t realize it.”
“Nice,” he says. “In this vision, did you see me?”
“I did,” I tell him. “You were wielding a spear.” Much like my realization, these words spark something in Augustus’s memories. He runs a hand through his hair, his face downturned, as a small laugh escapes his lips.
When he looks up at Bron, he says, “Joshua’s spear.”
“Almost certainly,” he answers.
“If we can get our hands on those two weapons, we’ll have a chance against the archangels,” Augustus concludes. “We can’t walk up and steal the flaming sword from Michael, but if we can engage him in battle, we might be able to grab it.”
Michael’s weapon is the flaming sword? Surely Augustus can’t be serious.
“The flaming sword,” I say. “You mean, the one…”
“That guarded the entrance to the Garden of Eden,” Bron finishes.
“One and the same,” Augustus chimes in. “Michael went down and retrieved it right before the Great Flood. Now it stands in his place during battle, directing troops on where to attack, like the pillar of fire that guided the Israelites in the desert.”
“But if he’s attacked, the sword will return to him,” Bron explains. “And if anyone tries to take it from the battlefield, they’ll be turned to dust.”
Given what we have to do to activate Lightfall, this fact seems problematic.
“So how are we supposed to take it from him?” I ask.
“You can take it from his hand,” Augustus says slowly. “It’s like Thor’s hammer. If you’re worthy enough to strip him of it, you’re worthy enough to hold it.”
Bron eyes Augustus with a bemused smile, an expression Augustus returns. Something isn’t being said here, but knowing the old man, I can guess.
“It sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” I say.
Augustus shrugs and raises his hands in front of him.
“What can I say?” he tells me. “If you wondered why Michael doesn’t like me, it might have something to do with the time I yanked his sword from his hands and held it up to his neck. To my surprise, he didn’t like that very much.”
“Is there anyone in Heaven you haven’t pissed off?” I ask with a laugh.
“Bron,” he says, looking at the giant, “have I ever made you mad?”
“Many, many times, Augustus,” he replies. “But it’s part of your charm.”
Camaraderie—that’s another thing I’ll miss about Bron while he’s down on Earth. Having someone else to change the energy or bounce ideas off of has been invaluable as we’ve gone about making this plan. Now we’re reaching a critical juncture, and we’ll be without one leg on our stool for who knows how long.
Heaven’s loss is Earth’s gain, but it’s time for him to go. Bron knows this, too. He looks to me, then Augustus, stoic but with the hint of a smile.
“You two keep each other safe,” he says. “I will return in due tim
e.”
“Good luck,” I tell him. “And while you’re down there, please tell Peter and the others that I’m alive and I’m going to return to them soon. Tell them that what I’m doing up here is important. Important enough that I’m here, not there.”
“I will,” he says. “They’ll understand, Silas.” With that, there’s a brilliant flash of white light that consumes Bron’s enormous figure, and then he’s gone.
I hope they do. I need them to understand.
The fight down there rages on. The fight up here is about to begin.
***
With the armory already raided, Augustus thinks our best bet to get ahold of the weapons I saw in my vision is to find the battlefield where the angels are fighting and scour the grounds to see if anything has been dropped by fallen soldiers.
He admits it’s not his best plan, and I agree, but we’re short on options here. If we try to enter the fray against warring angel armies—especially armies equipped with all-powerful weaponry—we’ll be dead before our feet hit the ground. We have to go in with a low profile, hope to avoid detection, and see what we can find.
If we attract any unwanted attention, the plan is to withdraw to Bron’s canyon, where Augustus says there are rune-protected zones I haven’t seen yet that can offer refuge from any pursuers. Once again, it seems like Augustus is speaking from experience. I can picture him fleeing there after grabbing a particular sword.
“So, where do you think the battle is happening now?” I ask him. “For both our sakes, I hope it’s not the hellscape we visited last time. I’m pretty sure if we search the grounds of that place, we’ll be treading the ninth circle of Hell.”
Augustus gives a short laugh, then replies, “No, they’ll have moved on by now. One thing I know about angelic warfare is that it moves quickly. It’s the exact opposite of trench warfare. They don’t dig in and hunker down. They hit hard, fly fast, and try to use misdirection to their advantage. That’s part of the reason you didn’t see any damage at the bastille: they were there probably ten minutes, tops.”