Warring Angel

by Samantha L. Strong

“You smell so good,” blurted Chana. Her ears turned pink. “I mean, you smell familiar.”

  “Like lilacs?”

  “Well, yes, but…” Her lips pressed together and her eyebrows furrowed.

  Cistena held out a hand. When Chana’s palm met hers, Cistena said, “May the Source that made you comfort and aid you. Peace and love to you.”

  Chana gasped. “But you’re a demon!”

  “Oh, it’s more convenient to be a demon. The Archangels would never let me run a brothel if I were an angel. And black eyes go with more outfits, anyway.”

  “I really like you,” said Chana. “A lot.”

  Cistena turned to me. “I’m so glad you came, and so quickly. Harbinger has been in quite a state.”

  My eyes widened. “Harbinger? What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know exactly. She’s been brooding lately. Walking around here, mumbling to herself, disappearing into the library for hours—I built it out since Voctic’s death, you know, because his choice of literature was atrocious. There are more books than the writings of the Marquis de Sade, but try to tell him that.”

  “Who’s the Marquis de Sade?” asked Chana.

  “Never you mind.” If I had no idea how to explain prostitutes to a human-angel child who’d never lived a human life, I had doubly no idea how to explain the man whose name inspired the word sadism. My emotions were jumping everywhere—excitement, fascination, a sense of being home. I hadn’t expected to react this strongly to being in Voctic’s former brothel.

  “You know I’m just going to look up his Book of Life when we get back to Heaven.”

  I held in a laugh. That’ll save me a lot of fumbling over an explanation. “Maybe you should do that.”

  “Maybe I will!”

  Cistena said, “The last time, Harbinger disappeared for a week, but earlier today, she came to me and said, and I quote, ‘I have to talk to Enael. I have to help. Call me when she’s here.’ Then she disappeared to her room.”

  Cistena led us through the tables, weaving amongst her patrons and wait staff. Strange-looking Morphs with too many elbows, eye stalks, and bulbous noses wandered around carrying trays. But none seemed interested in my blue wings.

  “You’ve removed the restriction against angels, I see,” I said. “But can the humans see Chana?”

  “Yes, yes, of course. This is somewhere all can mingle. Angels, humans, demons, it doesn’t matter. I made it a place of welcome.” She jerked her head toward a couple groping one another against a wall. “But still, no coupling in the main hall.”

  They waved at her, chuckling, and went to join a card game of Pit at one of the nearby tables.

  “We do have standards around here now.”

  We came to the same door Voctic had taken me through decades ago when he’d first introduced me to Harbinger, the daughter we’d created when I’d been embodied. She was almost seventy now. Although I was a little surprised she was still alive, a small part of me thought perhaps she would live forever.

  The corridor was unchanged, with plush carpet, wood paneling, and paintings of lounging prostitutes. Chana peered around with an excitement I didn’t need to focus on to feel. “Wow, this is neat,” she said. “Really neat. Those humans out there were actually alive, weren’t they?”

  “Yes, and so is the one we’re about to meet.”

  “I want to hear more about Voctic,” Chana said. “Was this his mansion?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you two lovers?”

  I almost stumbled. “What? Why would you think that?”

  “Did he have a nickname for you?”

  Cistena put her fingers to her mouth to cover her laugh. “He called her ‘Little One.’”

  “Did you kill him?” continued Chana. “You loved him, didn’t you? So it had to be you.”

  “Chana!” I was flummoxed as to how she’d figured out half my life story from simply being here. “We’ll talk about it later.”

  We reached the end of the corridor and stopped in front of the door to Harbinger’s room.

  “I’ll leave you two.” Cistena’s eyes twinkled. “I need to get back to the main hall. We have a card tournament coming up this afternoon, and some of my wait-staff are unhappy about— Sorry, it doesn’t matter. I need to go. I hope you can help her, whatever she needs.”

  Cistena kissed me on both cheeks and pressed her palm to mine. She turned and did the same to Chana, whose gaze turned starry-eyed. After Cistena swept away, the scent of lilacs lingered and my little Cornerstone clutched my arm. “She’s great. So beautiful. And funny. I feel like I’ve known her my whole life.”

  Still reeling from her questions about Voctic, I knocked on the door.

  “Come in!” The voice was thin with age but unmistakable. My daughter, Harbinger.

  I pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  She was pacing in front of the lit fireplace. Her face was wrinkled, her hair completely white, her skin as dark as mine had been when I was embodied as Ebena in Africa. She wore an elegant dress whose style was from half a century ago, jeweled blue and small-waisted. She’d developed deep laugh lines around her eyes, which pleased me—at least she’d led a happy life after what she’d been through at the beginning.

  “Oh, thank the Source you’re here!” She walked across the room with the slow, steady gait of an older woman. We embraced, though it was more stiff and formal than the hug I’d shared with Cistena.

  “Chana,” I said, “this is Harbinger. Harbinger, this is Chana, whom we’re training to become a Cornerstone. She’s a Dominion, a mix of angel and human. She’s the most promising of her kind.”

  “How exciting! Come in, come in,” said the now old woman. So strange to see how they age, especially when I’m not around to watch it happen. The last time I’d seen her, she was in the prime of her life.

  Standing in the doorway, Chana stared at Harbinger. Harbinger returned her intense look, and the two studied one another silently.

  I was about to interrupt, when Chana spoke. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” returned Harbinger. “Please, have a seat. Make yourselves comfortable.”

  She waved to the chairs in front of the crackling fireplace. Perhaps the unchanged room and outfit were comforts in this quickly changing world.

  As we sat down, Harbinger anxiously arranged her skirts and turned her attention to me. “Thank you so much for coming, Enael. I needed to talk to you. I know there’s a war coming. And it’s absolutely essential that I die so I can help.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Harbinger leaned forward to put a hand on Chana’s knee. “Child, would you go find Cistena, please? I was hoping she would have accompanied you in here.”

  “You want me to go back out there? By myself?” Chana jumped up, grinning.

  Perhaps I should have spent a little more time on human sexuality.

  “Tell her that my time has come, and I’d like to say farewell before I go.”

  Though I wasn’t sure I agreed, I said, “Don’t dally. You can read de Sade’s books later.” I needed to talk to Harbinger alone.

  Chana scurried out. “I’ll be right back. Don’t you worry.” The door clicked shut behind her.

  “You know, she’s only five,” I said.

  “She seems so much older. So… right,” said Harbinger. “She has a part to play. An important part.”

  “What kind of part?”

  “That I don’t know.” Harbinger smoothed a hand over her dress. “I want to talk to you alone, and then you can decide how much to tell her. You know her best. You know what she’s ready for.” Harbinger’s eyebrows drew together. She looked her age then, and tired. “Something has gone wrong, hasn’t it, with the plans for history?”

  “Yes, but the Seraphim will correct it, I’m sure.” I wasn’t sure, but it seemed the right thing to say. They’d try, at least.

  “I’ve been feeling it for a few months now, but today, something overcame me. I have to
go back to Heaven. I have to help. I have a part to play, too.”

  So that was why she wanted to die. Killing a human was the easy part, though it was done extremely rarely. I wasn’t yet convinced it needed to come to that. “How is it you can feel what’s happening? Even the Council didn’t know for sure until today. Asorat arrived at one of the important historical moments and declared war.” Such a simple statement, carrying the weight of thousands of lives.

  “That explains it.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I felt it because I pray every day.”

  “You… pray?”

  “I might not know who I was before I became Harbinger, but I know I’m an old soul. I might live in a brothel run by and for demons, but I listen to the Source. It doesn’t give me specifics, only gentle guidance. It told me something was off. It told me to find you. You’ll convince the Seraphim to let me help on Earth.”

  “The Source told you to find me? Why would the Seraphim listen to me?”

  “I don’t know, but that’s what It said. Chana and I will work together to try to stop the war. Don’t you feel it?”

  “I…” Embarrassment swirled. I should have known at least some of this. When was the last time I’d spoken to the Source? When was the last time I’d meditated in the Nexus, instead of hiding away in the Garden feeling sorry for myself?

  Harbinger rose, skirts rustling as she moved to sit next to me. “You’re the Cornerstone. You must take care of yourself.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that this Cornerstone thing isn’t as easy as it might seem.” I laughed, even though it wasn’t a joke, but she only nodded. “Everyone seems to have an opinion about what I’m here for, but no one really knows why. Least of all me.”

  She took my hand, calling to mind the last time she’d done so. After Voctic had died, she spoke with a wisdom beyond her few years, and for a moment, I’d felt cocooned by the Source’s embrace. “It’s not their job to know your purpose. You’re the only one who can figure it out. You’re constrained by your circumstances—I can only imagine what you’ve been through to end up babysitting that sweet, rambunctious child—but your destiny is your own. Yours and the Source’s.”

  “But—”

  “It’s not easy, but nothing worth doing ever is. You need to start trusting yourself. Look at you. You’re an angel, but you have dark circles under your eyes. Your aspect is slipping. And when’s the last time you brushed your hair?”

  I touched my long, blond tresses, sniffling. A tear had leaked down my cheek. “Angels don’t need to brush their hair.”

  “Mmhmm. Well, someone could use a mirror, at least.”

  I pulled my hand from hers, immediately missing its warmth, and dabbed at the corner of my eyes. This time, I laughed genuinely about the circumstances we found ourselves in. “Who are you, Harbinger?”

  “Someone who is one tiny piece of a greater whole.” Her eyes sparkled. “Anyway, don’t you want to find out? If your child ever gets back here, we can.”

  My old mentor and Archangel Rehniah had told me many times how she loved a crackling fire. Only now, after centuries of turmoil, did I understand the comfort of its warmth. Am I really the only one who can figure out how to be the Cornerstone and defeat the Aleph? The idea was equal measures frightening and empowering.

  “I thought the Aleph was Serinh,” I said, “but I found out today she replaced Asorat on the Council after he Fell. At the beginning of the Great War, they announced that it was him, and Serinh seems sincere in believing that.”

  “I don’t know whether that’s true or not, but I never had much knowledge of Heaven’s history. I knew what Voctic managed to tell me, which was little because of the Aleph’s restrictions. It could be Serinh, but if someone who ascended to Seraph only a few centuries ago is a candidate, anyone is.”

  Before I could muster a response, the door swung open and Chana bounded through. “I found her! I didn’t stop to read any books, but some of the humans wanted to tell me stories about a war in Spain twenty years ago. It was really interesting, but I told them I had to go. I had one of those funny-looking creatures get her because she wasn’t in the hall any more. So I let them tell me more stories.”

  Cistena entered and rubbed a hand across Chana’s back. “You really are precious. So much energy. I’d need ten liters of angel water a day to keep up.” She jutted her chin at Harbinger. “Now, what’s this about leaving a dead body on my sofa?”

  Harbinger leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “The Source wouldn’t have created you with a purpose you couldn’t fulfill,” she whispered. “Trust yourself. Trust It. Trust those around whom you know are good.”

  “I’ll do as you ask,” I whispered back. If Harbinger was so certain that this was her path, who was I to argue?

  “Thank you.” Harbinger rose. “Now, now, Cistena, you’ve had to deal with worse things than one dead woman.”

  The two embraced and Chana sidled over to me. “I’m sorry I took so long. What did I miss?”

  “Oh, adult things.”

  “One of these days, you’re not going to be able to say that! After I live a life, I’ll be old enough to hear whatever you have to say, Little One.”

  “Hey now!” Something thrummed in my chest at being addressed by Voctic’s nickname for me. “You make it so easy to tease you. I’ll tell you later.”

  Besides, I didn’t keep anything from Chana. It was nice to have someone to confide in. Perhaps it was time to explain the burden an angelic Cornerstone carried.

  Both women were crying silent tears. Cistena dabbed at her eyes. “I’m going to miss you, old woman. Who’s going to keep our book collection organized now? Don’t forget about us here.”

  “I’ll stop in from time to time.” Harbinger folded her hands on her voluminous skirt.

  “I’m off,” said Cistena. “I’ve never been good at drawn out goodbyes. You be careful, my dear.”

  “I will.”

  They hugged once more and Cistena left.

  “I’m ready.” Harbinger fluffed a pillow and lay down on the couch. “I will miss my books, though.”

  I knelt down next to her. “This won’t hurt.”

  She closed her eyes. “Of course not. I trust you.”

  Chana danced behind me. “I’ve never seen a death like this before. Only ones with Nephil and Reapers and demons flying around, and everyone fighting over stuff.”

  “These are much easier. Sit. Be calm. She needs peace to make this transition.”

  Chana sat.

  I put my hand on Harbinger’s abdomen. In this place Voctic had created, where the angelic and demonic mingled, her flesh resisted. As my hand pushed through, she said, “That… doesn’t hurt. Keep going.”

  Chana jittered.

  “What did I say about peace?”

  She clasped her hands together and bit a thumbnail.

  My fingers moved inside Harbinger’s torso, slowly, so slowly, until something tickled, light and airy. I grabbed her soul and pulled gently, easing it out.

  Finally, with a sigh, Harbinger’s body released its hold.

  I pooled her soul on the floor, a dark brown mass. Chana leaned forward. In the midst of battle, souls are immediately taken to Heaven to allow them to regain their eternal form there, so she’d never seen this before.

  The soul lengthened and elongated, stretching and growing. The features flowed together until they resolved into something resembling a human. Her skin lightened, and her face seemed Harbinger’s—but not—yet so familiar.

  She gasped and opened her eyes.

  “Thank you, Enael.” A grin broke across her face. “Do you recognize me?”

  “You look like Harbinger, but also…”

  Her skin lightened some more, and her hair turned light brown. Her eyes faded into a bright blue, and her clothing morphed into a shirt, skirt, and chemise—no corset. Her cheeks darkened with rouge, and she put a hand on her hip. “How about now?” she said with an English acc
ent.

  My mouth fell open. “Miriam!”

  Harbinger was more than just my daughter. She was Daniel’s lover from two hundred years before, the first complication in the chain of events that led me to be standing in a place I’d never have believed I would have been back then.

  CHAPTER 10

  I was stunned. The last time I’d seen Miriam was in Maryland, when she went to the Comfort Ward after a decade of being fed on by Fearlings.

  “And you’re Enael, the Guardian that saved me from the demon possessing me. You took my soul while I was drowning in the river.” She spoke slowly, as if uncovering memories. “And you convinced my Guardian to chase away the creatures feeding off me while I was a ghost.”

  “How is this possible?” I asked. “How did you end up with Voctic? Why did you agree to be birthed by me as Harbinger?”

  “What?” shouted Chana. “You and your demon lover had a human child? That is so great!”

  “No, that’s not exactly…” I trailed off. I didn’t know where to start explaining what Voctic had been to me.

  Harbinger-Miriam smiled but it quickly faded. “I told you, I pray. The more lives I live, the more important it seems. One day, soon after my recovery in the Comfort Ward, I was talking to the Source in the Nexus. It asked me to help with Its plan to restore order in Heaven. It sent me to Voctic.”

  “The Source sent you off to Hell to Voctic’s brothel while I was embodied in Africa?”

  “Yes.”

  I definitely haven’t been meditating enough.

  “He was lonely and terribly melancholy. He told me what he could about the Aleph—” she held up a hand, “—and before you ask, I don’t know any more now than I did as Harbinger.” That was unfortunate. “I agreed to help him. The Source seemed to be inclining me in that direction, so I went along. And, well, you know the rest.”

  Chana was uncharacteristically still. “This story sounds so familiar for some reason. But tell me anyway?”

  I sat on the sofa next to Harbinger’s corpse and arranged my wings behind me. “I’ll tell you later.”

  Chana gave me an exaggerated frown.