A Merciless Year One

by Eva Brandt

  The body inside the cremation chamber wasn’t really me, not anymore. It had just been a vessel, and now, it was gone. But I was still real and I could feel. I could be angry, afraid, and upset. I could experience arousal and have a sexual relationship with someone.

  Ariel had said humans had trouble adapting to a new existence in The Celestial Realm, but to me, it had been a gift, one I would not spurn.

  It took a good couple of hours for the cremation process to reach its natural conclusion. Once the fire was extinguished, an employee showed up again and retrieved the bone pieces that were left behind.

  I decided I had no more interest in what would happen next and turned toward Metatron. “Do we have anything left to do here?”

  “I don’t know. Do we?”

  My lovers had been right. Metatron did like to play games a little too much. I looked at my parents one more time, and then forced myself to nod. “As far as I’m concerned, we can go.”

  I wanted to touch them again, but that would’ve felt too much like saying ‘goodbye’. Even if I was leaving behind my physical body, I wouldn’t abandon them. I’d earn my wings and come back to watch them. That was my goal.

  Metatron seemed to believe me, because a few seconds later, we were back in his office. We hadn’t been gone long, but still, it felt like my whole world view had shifted.

  “You dealt with that better than I expected,” Metatron said. “Well done.”

  I couldn’t read his tone, but I decided I was too tired to look for hidden intentions where there weren’t any. “Thank you. It wasn’t easy, but I did have help.”

  Metatron nodded. “You know, Delilah, when you first arrived here, I had serious doubts about you. It takes a lot for a human to be picked to be an angel and you simply weren’t suited to the role. But maybe the prerequisites have changed and I just wasn’t notified. I can’t question The Supreme Being’s wisdom in this.

  “In any case, I can give you one piece of advice, if you’ll hear me.”

  “Of course, Archangel Metatron,” I replied, surprised at his sudden change of heart.

  “Humans who turn into angels all need some kind of anchor, something to remind them what they’re fighting for. I had my brother. You’re not so lucky.

  “I know you’re having trouble handling the aftermath of your death. Don’t close your heart to possibilities because you’re afraid of facing the past.”

  “I didn’t expect you of all people to say that, Sir,” I replied.

  I didn’t mean for it to sound biting, but maybe it did, a little, because for the first time since I’d gotten here, Metatron grinned. His usually stoic expression twisted into something completely unfamiliar that almost made me want to take a step back.

  “On the contrary, that’s why we’re all here. The Watchers are prisoners at the academy, Delilah, but so are we. And as long as we don’t set aside the burdens in our heart, we’ll stay here, unable to serve in The Heavenly Host.”

  The admission shocked me so much I was rendered mute. In hindsight, it made a lot of sense. The Grim Reaper had already told me this was the logic behind the existence of the academy. But it had never occurred to me that the Watchers weren’t the only ones suffering.

  “If that’s the case, Sir, then why not reach an accord with the Watchers?”

  “We will, eventually. But all wounds need time to heal. Maybe you’re just the thing to help us with that.”

  With those final, cryptic words, Metatron ushered me off. I left his office, feeling more confused than ever before.

  Somehow, even if I’d gotten what I’d come for, I had a feeling the hardest part of my stay at the academy had only just begun.

  Healing

  Despite Metatron’s change in attitude, the other archangels didn’t receive the news of my schedule all that well. They accepted it because they didn’t have a choice, but they were obviously not happy about it.

  To make matters worse, my wings hadn’t grown any, which meant that someone else needed to pick me up and take me to classes. Ariel was too busy for that. Unsurprisingly, my lovers volunteered.

  Things were awkward between us after my less than ideal reaction to the time we’d had sex. The whole visit at the crematorium had sort of put things into perspective, but I still wasn’t sure where we actually stood.

  They decided to take the ‘ignore it and maybe it’ll go away approach’, so when they came to see me, they smiled at me with the same reserved warmth they’d displayed in the past.

  “Ready for your new class?” Yeqon asked.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” I thought about it a little more, and then added. “Well, no, that’s a lie. I’d probably be a little more ready if I waited a while longer. But I don’t think staying here twiddling my thumbs is going to help, so I’m going to try anyway.”

  Sariel nodded seriously. “That’s understandable. But don’t force yourself. That’s no good either.”

  “I’ll remember that,” I replied. “But I’ve had a bit of an epiphany. I think I understand now that I’m not alone.”

  I shot them a hesitant smile and they stared at me, shocked. Realizing what I was doing, I suppressed a flinch. I was blowing hot and cold, undoubtedly giving them a lot of mixed signals. And really, no matter how much I wanted to, I didn’t think I could give them an answer about a possible relationship between us.

  Seeing my parents had put my heart at ease, and I’d decided to start anew as an angel. But did that mean I could completely let go of all of my misgivings about the Watchers? I wasn’t sure.

  Awkward silence fell between us, and it was one I hated. It was a funny thing that we’d interacted easier before my epiphany. Maybe I should be going back to calling them names and snarling at them. That had seemed to work.

  The ever-practical Sariel was the one to pull me out of my dilemma. “Before we go, I do want to give you a head’s up. Remember how Uriel was a little… intense about his treatment of us? Raphael is even worse. But don’t say anything, no matter what. Okay?”

  His tone held a degree of urgency that was unusual when coming from Sariel. “All right,” I said slowly, “but why?”

  “When we left The Academy of the Devil, there was… an incident. Because of that, and for many other reasons, he doesn’t trust us,” Azazel explained.

  “It’s like Metatron said,” Yeqon added. “While we were there, we were pretty close to Lucifer and we even knew his queen. Now that they’ve been deemed a tentative threat, that’s a bit complicated to deal with. Raphael doesn’t have a problem with Watchers in general, but he’s leery. We wouldn’t want you to draw the wrong kind of attention because of us.”

  “I’m not worried.” I shrugged, remembering what Metatron had said. “They’ll have to get over their issues too. Otherwise, they’ll hardly be efficient members of The Heavenly Host.”

  “True, but it’s better to not goad Raphael into a fight. Before we left, he was among the strongest of archangels. The only one stronger was Michael. So it’s best to not be confrontational with him.”

  I agreed, since despite Metatron’s reassurances, I didn’t want to make unnecessary trouble. “I’ll do my best.”

  The warning didn’t prepare me for the glare of death we were all shot when we entered Raphael’s classroom. Like Uriel, he taught his classes in the Core, but his chosen environment looked like a greenhouse. It was warm and welcoming, and it didn’t fit his expression at all.

  “Welcome to today’s lesson on Healing,” he said. “We’ll once again be going over Resurrection magic.”

  He said the words ‘once again’ like he’d spoken them a million times before. It was a distinct possibility, as everyone looked uncomfortable.

  “Do we have a volunteer for the process?”

  After what I’d seen in the Energy Projection class, I wasn’t looking forward to what it would involve. I wished I had been more surprised when Raphael turned his eyes on our small group. “Yeqon, what about you?”

&
nbsp; “Of course, Archangel Raphael,” Yeqon replied without missing a beat. “It would be my honor.”

  He joined Raphael at the front of the class. Raphael’s hand twitched and a blazing sword manifested out of the ether. “Watch closely. The better you understand the process of each death, the faster you will be able to provide assistance.”

  I was beginning to understand where this was going and I didn’t like it one bit. Instinctively, I moved forward, intending to intervene.

  Azazel grabbed my wrist in an unbreakable hold, keeping me rooted in my spot. “Don’t. Don’t say anything. Stay calm.”

  Did he even understand what he was asking? How could I stay calm, when someone dear to me was about to die in front of me again?

  “It’s okay,” Sariel whispered. “Yeqon is going to be fine. This will just be temporary. Close your eyes if you have to, but don’t interfere.”

  I didn’t close my eyes. Maybe it would have been better to do as Sariel had suggested, but I couldn’t do it. Somehow, I felt it would have been offensive and detracted from the purpose of this lesson.

  It had to have a purpose. I refused to believe the people here resorted to such cruelty for no reason.

  Yeqon took a deep breath and something about his body seemed to shift. That was Raphael’s cue. Lifting his sword, he struck.

  To give Raphael credit, he made the process painless. The blade sliced straight through Yeqon’s neck, decapitating him on the spot.

  He likely hadn’t felt a thing. The incident in Uriel’s class had been more painful. Even so, as Yeqon’s body slumped forward, headless, my head started to spin. I began seeing spots in front of my eyes.

  Don’t look away. This has to mean something.

  In a somewhat surprising feat of dexterity, Raphael caught both the dead body and the head.

  “Now, for the hard part. As you know, the body of an angel can be reconstructed an infinite amount of times. But that comes with a caveat, and certain types of magic can get in the way. Someone who is, for example, both angel and demon, could endanger the existence of even the strongest of archangels.” He wasn’t even trying to pretend this was a hypothetical scenario. This had obviously happened, and Raphael wasn’t happy about it.

  He set Yeqon—both parts of him—down and continued to speak. “As Watchers, you had very little to do with healing. But you won’t be Watchers forever. Some of you may return to being Cherubim, Virtues, or even Archangels. Which means you’ll need to know these things.”

  By my side, Azazel was getting tenser with every passing second. Sariel clenched his hands into fists, but said nothing.

  “Is that understood?” Raphael asked.

  “Yes, Archangel Raphael,” everyone—including me and my lovers—replied.

  Why was this taking so long? Why kill Yeqon first, then stop to hold a speech? Even if there were reasons for this lesson, I couldn’t justify the delay.

  “Good,” Raphael continued. “Now, I’m aware you’re all uncomfortable and angry. But guess what? When in battle, you’ll likely be furious.

  “Fury is your enemy. Seeing a fellow angel fall is very disruptive for us, as Lucifer has so eloquently proven in the past. It’s only with strenuous training that we can overcome it. Remember, healing requires complete faith and the knowledge and understanding that the person in front of you can and will return.

  “If you allow yourself to succumb to anger, you’ll lose your chance and your ability to help the person you most care for. You might be able to heal a minor injury, but not bring him back. Now, I invite you to try to help your friend. And remember, the longer he remains this way, the harder things will be for him later.”

  I wanted to cry. Azazel and Sariel had obviously been aware of all this. This wasn’t a new development and it must have happened before.

  “Stay here,” Sariel told me.

  Feeling numb, I nodded. Sariel and Azazel stepped forward and knelt next to Yeqon’s decapitated body.

  With gentle hands, they placed the head where it was supposed to be. Sariel pulled two feathers from his wings and set them down on the already cauterized wound. Azazel took Yeqon’s limp hands and threaded their fingers together. Then, his and Sariel’s wings started to glow. I trusted them, but even so, I found myself shaking.

  I was right to be nervous. Threads of silvery magic slithered into Yeqon. Power slid into his veins and the feathers on Yeqon’s neck lit up. But it was all for nothing.

  Something wasn’t working right. Even lacking experience, I could see it. It was as if Sariel and Azazel’s desire to bring Yeqon back was encountering some kind of hidden obstacle.

  I’d have thought that maybe Raphael was sabotaging them, but when I looked a little more closely, I realized the problem came from Sariel and Azazel. Their power was almost short-circuiting. It wasn’t connecting properly with Yeqon’s core. Yeqon’s light was there, waiting for them, but they couldn’t reach him. His feathers were already beginning to lose all color.

  By now, Sariel and Azazel were shaking with effort. Their bodies were flickering and their wings vibrating. But it just wasn’t working, no matter how hard they tried.

  Their frustration, anguish, and helplessness made them even angrier. At this rate, things were going to get worse, not better.

  I couldn’t let them suffer this way. No matter what they’d told me, I had to do something about it. I had no idea how healing magic worked, but they did. I just had to remind them of that.

  Nervous, but determined, I made my way to their side and joined them on the floor. I took Azazel’s free hand and pressed my other palm to Sariel’s chest.

  “It’s okay,” I told them. “Yeqon is going to be fine. Remember?”

  Sariel had been the one to tell me that, before this whole nightmare had started properly. Maybe he’d just been trying to encourage me at the time, but I did believe him. And I had faith in him and the others too.

  I might not know much about The Celestial Realm, but I did know this. Sariel, Azazel, and Yeqon had cared enough about me to worry about my mental state, when I’d been struggling with my recent death. I hadn’t thought they could understand, but they did. As torn as I might still be about my connection to them, I knew that connection existed and that they deserved better than this.

  Words weren’t enough to fix everything that was broken here, but I had more than words at my disposal. My spine tingled, my incipient wings itching and burning once again. Compared to their power, what little I could offer was insignificant, but the lines of strain on my lovers’ faces vanished anyway.

  The threads of their scattering magic became smoother. Yeqon’s feathers regained their vibrancy. His skin knitted back together and the wound vanished. He opened his eyes once again and jerked up, so suddenly his forehead hit Azazel’s.

  Shocked, Azazel fell back. Sariel lost his balance, and in the process dragged me down too.

  I couldn’t have said how it happened, but somehow, we all ended up lying in a pile, on top of one another, on the floor, in front of Raphael and the other Watchers.

  “Well, this is an unexpected development,” one of the Watchers whispered. “Can’t say I’m complaining, though.”

  “It’s a nice change, certainly.”

  “Silence!” Raphael shouted. Leaning over us, he asked, “Are you all right?”

  What could we say to that? That we were fine? Technically speaking we were, but that didn’t mean the episode had left us unscathed.

  Before we could find a way to reply, the door to the classroom/greenhouse burst open. Sandalphon flew inside in a rush of rustled feathers and agitated magic. “Raphael! Bad news! We need you at once.”

  My experience with Sandalphon, while limited, had taught me he was a little more emotional than his twin brother. But today, all composure had been thrown out the window. Something had to be very wrong if an archangel—any of them—was displaying this kind of behavior.

  Raphael must have realized this too, because he waved his wing,
dismissing the class. “Return to your towers. We’ll speak again later.”

  I was grateful for the reprieve, since it meant my lovers and I would be able to steal a few moments alone to recover from this ordeal. I should have known better than to expect anyone to have mercy on us.

  “Not you,” Sandalphon barked in our general direction. “You’re joining us.”

  I wanted to protest. Yeqon was in no condition to go anywhere except directly to bed. The healing process had taken a lot out of Sariel and Azazel. But that was a detail the archangels just didn’t care about.

  “Sir, it’s too dangerous for Delilah to be exposed to such things,” Sariel protested as all of us got up.

  “She’ll have to learn eventually and we don’t have time for delays.”

  I was more worried about them than about me, so in a way, I was grateful to be taken along. I held my tongue, though, knowing I wouldn’t be able to do much to help with whatever the problem was.

  A rush of power erupted over us, coming from Sandalphon’s wings. It felt different than the other times I’d been transported like this, by anyone, and I shuddered, leaning against Azazel.

  The sensation of being enveloped in his warmth reassured me, but it didn’t last. As soon as we reached our destination, I realized my problem had never been Sandalphon’s power. It was the mark this unexpected disaster had left on him.

  We landed in the middle of a field covered in bodies. There were odd markings on the ground, burnt into the grass and still glowing with remnants of power. The dried out husks of what had been people were set up in a circle, all extending their hands toward the middle, as if reaching out to something.

  “This is resurrection magic,” Raphael whispered. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do we,” Sandalphon replied. “Only very powerful beings have access to this kind of skill, and as far as I know, we haven’t shared it with anyone.”