A Merciless Year One

by Eva Brandt

  “Technically speaking, Zadkiel did. We’re all supposed to talk to one another and provide incentive for forgiveness.”

  His slow drawl spoke volumes of what he really thought about the idea. Zadkiel didn’t like it. “Indeed. What about you, Kasdaye? Anything you’d like to share? How have you been feeling? Any murderous urges lately?”

  I discreetly elbowed Azazel in the stomach. “Murderous urges?” I mouthed when he turned to look at me.

  Azazel grimaced. “Long story,” he replied, the same way.

  “Long story” was often my lovers’ go-to answer to a lot of my questions. Ironically, they were always honest about it. It was a long story, and half the time, I couldn’t grasp the full picture, not without digging into things that were none of my business.

  So I waited to see what Kasdaye would say. I was not disappointed. “It’s not so bad lately. I still sort of miss having people inside me, though.”

  What?

  “It’s entirely understandable,” Zadkiel said, nodding. “But you must remember your previous forms were the product of a curse and of Lucifer’s inability to help you. You can’t cling to that if you want to move forward.”

  Seriously? That was what he was going with? It wouldn’t help them at all, not when most of them weren’t completely sold on the idea of working with The Celestial Realm in the first place.

  “Lucifer did what he could,” Shamsiel said. “He didn’t abandon us.”

  “Didn’t he?” Zadkiel asked. “He left you at the school while he went off on his own, to find his answers. The Vessel of Hope was always more important to him. You know that, Shamsiel.”

  “You’re one to judge.” Another Watcher crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at the puppy. “I know for a fact that The Celestial Realm would have sacrificed battalions of angels if they’d thought it would help bring Alyssa Michaelis to their side. But your little schemes didn’t work, and now here we are.”

  Zadkiel finally shifted from his non-threatening form, back into his angelic one. “Yes, here we are, and we must work together. Some paths are closed to us, it’s true. We’ve lost friends, loved ones. But that doesn’t mean we can’t rebuild.”

  I knew I shouldn’t intervene. I had my own problems with Lucifer, and getting involved in others might not end well. But even so, I was itching to say something.

  “Archangel Zadkiel, I agree with you. But don’t you think everyone should be contributing to this class, not just the Watchers? I mean, I haven’t been here long, but I can see the tension stems from more than one source.”

  Up to a point, that was a lie and I wouldn’t have been able to say this with confidence if Metatron hadn’t spilled the beans. But he had, and I wasn’t beneath using the information for my benefit.

  Zadkiel took my comment in stride. “We’re dealing with that side of the issue in our own way, Delilah. I assure you, we’re paying attention to every side of the problem.”

  “It’s none of your business anyway, human,” a Watcher I didn’t know spat. “What makes you think you can just come here and get involved in our affairs?”

  The hostility took me aback. I didn’t think I’d done anything to warrant it, since the only people I’d actually fought with had been my lovers and the archangels. The others had given me a wide berth, so we hadn’t gotten the chance to clash.

  But I didn’t let the other Watcher’s behavior get to me. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe the thought that I was invited by superior beings? You’re not in any position to question my presence.”

  “I will do as I damn well please. I’m tired of pretending we’re all okay with having you here, when everyone can tell you don’t belong in The Celestial Realm.”

  Sariel got up, his silver wings glowing with a silent threat. “Armaros, shut the fuck up.”

  “Why don’t you make me?” Armaros asked, sneering.

  “Gladly.”

  “There’s no need for that,” Zadkiel said. “If you could please just—”

  Zadkiel was cut off mid-sentence when Sariel launched himself at Armaros. It was like a cue, or some kind of domino effect. The moment Sariel struck Armaros, chaos exploded in the courtyard. Shamsiel attacked Kasdaye, whereas a couple of others took Armaros’s side and went for Sariel. Yeqon and Azazel stuck to my side, protecting me, which turned out to be more difficult than expected, because of all the Watchers suddenly zeroing on them.

  Weapons manifested out of nowhere, feathers and energy flying. I staggered back, terrified and wondering how in the world things had escalated so quickly.

  Up until now, I hadn’t seen any of the angels fight. I’d caught a few glimpses of it in my vision from the Grim Reaper and, up to a point, maybe earlier in Sodom. But that had been nothing to the utterly overwhelming chaos of this experience.

  It wasn’t even that they were using lethal force against one another, because they weren’t. The attacks, while vicious, were designed to maim, not kill. But maybe that made it all even more unnerving.

  At one point, my presence became irrelevant, because even the Watchers coming toward us seemed intent on hurting Azazel and Yeqon, not me. Anger and helplessness rushed through me. My body shook, torn between the intellectual knowledge that if I intervened, I’d just get in the way, and the outrage I felt at being unable to do anything to help the people I cared about.

  What was the point of me being a guardian angel if, when the moment came for me to act, I wasn’t good for anything?

  “Stop,” I murmured, much too weakly for my liking. “Please. Don’t do this.”

  Distant memories flashed through my head. I bit the inside of my cheek and tasted blood and ashes in my mouth.

  “Stop.”

  My spine was burning again, vibrating with a power I couldn’t control. In front of me, Armaros punched Sariel in the face. Something snapped, and just like that, a burning white flame erupted out of my body.

  It swept over the whole area like a hurricane, striking the fighting Watchers. It was merciless, overwhelming everyone—including my lovers. Several of the angels tried to erect hasty shields, but the protection magic cracked like an egg, unable to contain my out of control power.

  In the end, it was Zadkiel who put a stop to it. He was so pale he looked almost translucent, but he managed to reach me, grabbed my wrist and squeezed. “Ms. St. John! Delilah! Snap out of it!”

  It might not have worked, but his words cleared the fog from my brain, allowing me to see my lovers again. Instantly, my anger died and my power faded, recoiling back into me. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

  As the energy I’d unleashed settled back underneath my skin, everyone kept staring at me. I stared back, not knowing what else to say.

  “Well, that explains while you’re here, I guess,” Kasdaye finally joked.

  Nobody laughed. A sense of ominous doom filled me, and all of a sudden, I felt like I was suffocating again.

  I couldn’t be here anymore. I couldn’t face the Watchers, nor could I embrace forgiveness, not today.

  Turning on my heel, I fled the courtyard. Behind me, I could hear the echoes of my lovers’ shouts. I ignored them and kept going. Maybe if I didn’t think about them, I’d be able to figure out what the hell I was doing and what was happening to me.

  Distrust

  I’d never realized how easy it was to get lost at Watcher Academy until I was… well, lost. Frustrated with myself and my foul luck, I stumbled through the darkness, leaning against the wall to make sure I didn’t trip on something.

  When I’d run from the courtyard, I hadn’t really been thinking. I hadn’t paid any attention to where I was going. All I’d wanted was to put some distance between me and the crowd.

  I’d succeeded in that, but in the process, I’d stumbled into the dark part of the Core, and now, I had no way to get out.

  Unlike in Sunrefni and Redrum’s cave, my small wings didn’t shed any light here. I could see a little, but I wasn’t sure why, because the corridor I was in rem
inded me a little of a black hole. It seemed to absorb light, as if existing just for the purpose of defying the archangels who lived at Watcher Academy.

  Ariel had said this place served as a training field, but so far, I’d seen nothing that could have been used for such a purpose. On the bright side, getting lost had helped me forget my panic, turning it into a mix of fatigue and exasperation.

  This was my life now, constantly trying to make my way through the dark, with next to no guidance. I’d made my choice and I’d sworn I’d look toward the future. I couldn’t freak out and run whenever something didn’t go my way.

  If I could only return to the white part of the academy, I’d go back to the class and apologize to Zadkiel. I didn’t think the Watchers would necessarily blame me for my actions. Kasdaye hadn’t. It was a bad idea to generalize, but I doubted they’d be scared of me, just because I’d lost control of my new powers one time.

  It was clear by now that this was what must have happened. My affinity to The Celestial Realm was growing, but up to a point, I was still human, unused to it and unable to process it. Metatron and Ariel had both warned me. I hadn’t realized what the consequences of my problem would be, but hopefully, now that I knew, I’d be able to handle it better.

  The sound of a skittering noise startled me from my thoughts. I froze, my heart starting to race as I tried to figure out where it had come from. “Hello?” I called out—and promptly felt stupid, like one of those dumb blondes who were always killed first in horror movies.

  Come to think of it, this situation was strikingly similar to something out of Saw or The Blair Witch Project. Could there be monsters hiding in this part of the academy? Nah. If there had been, my lovers would have known and warned me about it, just like they’d told me to not piss of Raphael.

  That certainty helped and when I heard the skittering sound again, I followed it. I ended up stopping in front of a closed door. I only realized what it was because I managed to find the door knob in the dark. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and hoped I wasn’t making a big mistake.

  There was no monster in the room. Light spilled inside through an open window, but it stopped about halfway to the door, as if there was a barrier there that kept it from reaching the corridor. There were a few items of furniture, shelves, a table, and an armchair. A massive crow sat on the table, pecking at what seemed to be an apple core.

  When the crow spotted me approaching, it abandoned its food and turned toward me. “Err? Hi?” I said hesitantly.

  Almost instantly, the crow shifted into the now familiar figure of Morrigan. I hadn’t seen the deity since I’d first been brought back and introduced to my role, and I’d almost forgotten she’d been involved in the issue at all.

  “Hello, Delilah,” she greeted me with a mellow voice. “Fancy seeing you here. Shouldn’t you be in class?”

  Judging by the way she was smiling at me, she knew perfectly well why I wasn’t in class. I didn’t call her out on it. “I had a bit of an incident in Forgiveness,” I said instead. “I think my powers ran out of control.”

  Morrigan nodded, the feathers in her gown twitching slightly as she moved. “That happens often, for mortals who transition to a different type of existence. I wouldn’t be too worried. You’ll be fine.”

  Her confidence reassured me, but I still hoped for some more practical advice. “Is there any way I can make sure this sort of thing doesn’t happen again? I don’t want to hurt people, even if it’s by accident.”

  “I can understand that,” Morrigan answered with a soft, mysterious smile. “Before I reply to your question, tell me something. Why?”

  “I’m sorry?” I asked, confused. “Why what?”

  “Why don’t you want to hurt people? They hurt you. You were pretty angry when we first met.”

  I plopped down on the armchair and thought about her words. She wasn’t wrong, and in all honesty, I couldn’t say I’d completely changed my mind. “I’m still angry,” I said. “I don’t think that’s ever going to change. I’m just trying to be productive about it. I’m not sure it’s working.”

  “Burying your feelings and forcing yourself to forget isn’t the right path either,” Morrigan said. “I know Metatron believes you need to leave your human side behind, but I’m not convinced that’s true. He’s not the best example for healthy living.”

  “The Watchers have already told me that. But you have to admit, I keep getting conflicting advice. At this point, I don’t know which way is up anymore.”

  Morrigan walked up to me and knelt in front of my armchair. Her warm hand landed on mine and she threaded our fingers together. “My dear child, whenever you doubt something, you have to remember why you’re actually here. No matter what we might have told the archangels, you’re meant for more than being a simple guardian angel. You have to become someone capable of keeping The Mortal Realm safe. I’m convinced you can do it, but for that to happen, you can’t forgo your humanity.”

  Her words forced me to face the uncertainties that had been plaguing me for longer than I’d have liked to admit. I bit my lower lip, trying to understand. “But isn’t that what I need to do, to truly bond with The Celestial Realm? If I keep being human, even if only at heart, won’t it drag me down in my quest to become a guardian angel?” I believed in my humanity too, but I was afraid that it would compromise my ultimate goal.

  Morrigan hummed thoughtfully. “It will make it harder, but it will also make you more powerful. Do you know what the real difference between angels and demons is, Delilah?”

  The apparent non-sequitur took me by surprise. “The source of their powers?” I suggested.

  “That’s one of the differences, but not the main one. The power source is a consequence of the root cause. The real difference is in the nature of celestial and demonic souls.

  “The truth of The Celestial Realm is that, no matter how many classes in Forgiveness you might attend, it’s all a lie. Angels are among the most brutal species in the universe. They don’t really care about humans. The only reason they exist is to serve the dictates of The Supreme Being. For them, wiping away a continent is like stepping on an anthill. They don’t care.”

  I wanted to protest, but I’d seen enough of the archangels at Watcher Academy to know she was probably right. “But not all of them are like that, are they?”

  “There are exceptions, it’s true. Some archangels in particular show more emotion than others, for their own reasons. And then, there’s the Guardian Angel Corps. They spend more time with mortals, so it’s assumed that they will borrow mortal weaknesses and attachments. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter, because most of them will follow the rules too, even if it hurts.”

  “Is that why you said you wanted me to be a Guardian Angel?”

  “Yes and no,” Morrigan answered. “It’s still strenuous to be a Guardian Angel, but not as bad as being a Virtue, a Cherub, or any other class of celestial being. Anyway, we’ve veered off point here. I still have to explain demon souls. Demons are defiant, passionate, and emotional. They embrace life in ways angels do not. That is the real reason Lucifer and his Watchers fell. It might have been in part, because of pride, but it was their desire to truly experience living that guided their steps.”

  I thought about the moments I’d shared with Sariel, Azazel, and Yeqon. They’d told me something similar. They’d confessed how much trouble they had while here at Watcher Academy, and admitted that I was the only reason why they’d been able to adapt at all.

  “What does that mean for me?”

  “It means you should be very careful who you trust, Delilah,” Morrigan said. “The people here have been told to follow certain dictates, but it’s impossible to say what they’ll do if those dictates change. Right now, The Supreme Being agrees that you’re necessary to accomplish balance. But he sees far more than I do, and I have no way of knowing what moves he’ll make first. He could change his mind tomorrow and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it
.”

  Well, that didn’t sound ominous at all.

  “If it’s all the same to you, Morrigan, I don’t want to think about the possibility of God turning against me.”

  “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice but to take into account all possibilities.”

  I sighed, but once again, thought that she was right. “There’s nothing I can do to control that. I’ll be careful. That’s the only thing I can promise. In the meantime… Do you suppose you can give me any advice? On… them?”

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out what I meant. “Your lovers?” Morrigan got up and laughed lightly. “Why do you need advice, my child? You’re doing an excellent job on your own.”

  “Am I? They’re thousands of years older than me. They’ve experienced so much. How can I possibly compare to them? I want to think that I’m doing the right thing in accepting them, but I’m still afraid.”

  “Let me tell you a little secret, Delilah. There’s one constant in the life of ninety-nine percent of all individuals. They’re all afraid of something. Even The Supreme Being is afraid, though he might never confess his own fears. There’s no shame in it. Fear is the most natural thing in the world and just shows you understand how important something is to you. Fear isn’t the enemy.”

  “It’s not?”

  Morrigan shook her head. “Of course not. What is it that you mortals say? Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. That couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  I didn’t know what shocked me most, the fact that Morrigan was quoting Frank Herbert, or the way her eyes started to glow as she spoke. “The true enemy, Delilah, is ignorance. Not knowing. Many awful things might come from fear, but that fear would never exist if people only understood. And that is why you, my child, must always remember and understand humans. Because otherwise you might begin to fear them, like so many angels do.

  “Your relationship with your Watchers stems from emotions that are both human and demonic. Embrace it. Understand it. Know it. There is power there, and it will help you.”