Warring Angel

by Samantha L. Strong

  “Why are you telling me this now? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “For one thing, scholars have been studying it for thousands of years to no avail. But think what you like. Now, do you have an assignment for me?”

  I looked down at the page. “Yes. Let’s get to it, then.” I’d disappointed her, I was certain, but I could do nothing about it. I had to be vigilant, and making enemies of friends was a small price to pay.

  I met with Parsiel last.

  “You know this isn’t necessary,” he said.

  “Ah, but it is,” I said. “I would rather be safe than sorry. You know as well as I that we can’t afford to let Asorat win.”

  “But if the Aleph exists, it wouldn’t want him to win.”

  “Oh?” I’d come to that conclusion long ago, but his assertion was an interesting piece of the puzzle. “How do you figure?”

  He laughed a genuine laugh. “I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not the Aleph. I might not like you but you have pluck. Besides, if I were the Aleph, you’d know.”

  Now I was confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve been told I’m too… vocal… with my emotions,” he said. “Seraphim should contain themselves more than I do. I know this, but I can’t help it. I have opinions.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “I’m not hiding anything.”

  That I didn’t believe but I only smiled.

  “I told you why I don’t like you. Every word is true. However, you’ve also impressed me lately. You’re stepping into the role the Source created you for. I can respect that. I only wish it had come sooner.”

  “And how would I have done that, with the Council forcing me to actions I didn’t want to take?”

  “At some point, you need to take responsibility for your own behavior.” Now he was back to the stern Seraph I knew. “The most disappointing part of all this is that you have so much potential you’re squandering. I would have been happy to mentor you. I tried to leave you with that impression the day in the Nexus when we first met. Do you remember that?”

  I thought back, to a time when I was in awe of Seraphim, before everything I thought I knew about Heaven and Earth had been upended. “You mean when I was a demon, trying to find the strength to defeat Yasva? You came to me in the Nexus, and I was lying there crying because Kaspen had chosen her over me.”

  “Yes. I told you that you had strength for the trials ahead. And I meant it.”

  I was taken aback. I’d forgotten that even happened. He’d seemed different then, kind and gentle, much like Serinh. A façade, though, one that covered the real, impatient Parsiel underneath.

  “If only you’d come to me. If only you’d let me mentor you. Perhaps so many things would have been avoided. Such a mess and for what?” He let out a long sigh. “Do you have some information for me, or were you hoping we’d have a fun chat and braid each other’s hair?”

  “Yes.” I flipped open my book. I started speaking, but my mind was elsewhere. “Your piece of the plan is to speak to the Vice President of the United States.”

  With all of Parsiel’s talk of being unable to control his emotions, I had started to cross him off my list of candidates for the Aleph. But if he actually believed he’d done enough to draw me to him, perhaps I needed to continue considering him as a candidate.

  I filed that piece of information away for later pondering.

  In May 1943 in various cities on Earth, we began conducting conferences in closed-door meetings between angels and human leaders from the United States, the UK, Russia, and more. The Vycanums provided the fuel for us angels to appear and speak to them, reviewing and updating our plans with their input.

  The humans loved our strategy. The Muses introduced new technology on Earth earlier than planned, but the Engineers re-calculated some of the future events, which would only take place if we could win this war against Asorat.

  However, when the humans stepped out of the room, none of them remembered they’d spoken to us—but inside the room, the plans took shape. We didn’t even ask them to give it the code name the Trident Conference, but they did anyway. One of them had an interesting sense of humor.

  By the end, I was no closer to determining who the Aleph might be. Though I waited, hoping a small bit of information would leak and therefore uncover the Aleph’s identity—or, at least, its allies—Asorat did not catch wind of the information I’d planted.

  Without any solid leads, I stopped worrying about it. I needed to focus on our plan, and there was a whole army to coordinate, Engineers to organize, and Reapers to brief.

  Our attack, Operation Neptune, was coming, but we couldn’t keep it a secret forever. In the early months of 1944, Asorat’s forces rallied around Normandy, but they were scattered and spread out. They guessed an attack was coming, but they didn’t know when or how.

  All of Heaven waited expectantly as the humans prepared to invade Germany.

  CHAPTER 34

  Because of Zaponsla’s battle experience, I asked the Council “in my official capacity of Cornerstone” to ascend her to the rank of Archangel. We were running low on leaders, though we had plenty of volunteers swapping to Nephil rank now that the war was in full swing. The Council granted my request.

  During a simple ceremony, as Zaponsla stood with head tipped toward the beam, Serinh lifted her hands into the air and snatched at what appeared to be two silver threads. She melded the threads into the blue threads I could see traveling through the tips of Zaponsla’s wings into her back. Zaponsla’s feathers turned pastel blue and then silver.

  She was an Archangel.

  Being able to see energy threads was like nothing I’d ever heard of before. Was it because I was a Cornerstone? Or was it something else?

  Though most of my time was consumed with the war plans, I spent my free moments visiting Chana with Zaponsla and Harbinger. Serinh moved our unconscious friend to the Comfort Ward soon after the meeting with the Council, where Tenders fussed over her, fluffed her pillows, and fed her angel water when she grew pale and wan. She showed no signs of waking from her coma, and no one knew why she was in that state.

  The Muses, pleased to contribute to our war effort, built walls to divide the spacious Sanctuary rooms into smaller ones to accommodate the influx of patients. Whereas before, the Comfort Ward was only a quarter full, now it brimmed with wounded angels and humans, despite having four times the number of rooms it once did.

  I sat next to Chana’s bed in the tiny room, gazing down at her strong nose and curly hair. “I’m sorry this is happening, my dear.”

  Harbinger and Zaponsla stood on the other side, barely able to fit between the bed and the wall. Harbinger had insisted she didn’t need to take up a bed in the Sanctuary, though she spent long hours walking the Garden. I wondered what she was brooding about, but I didn’t press her.

  Zaponsla fluttered her silver wings, smacked the wall, and stilled them. “Do you think she’ll ever wake up?”

  “You know what the Tenders said,” murmured Harbinger. Yes, someday, hopefully soon. We’re doing all we can.

  Zaponsla pulled open Chana’s eye and I almost snickered. She would have made a terrible Tender—she was too cold and impersonal. She was always yanking poor, comatose Chana around as though she were a doll. It was a good thing she was truly asleep. “Her eyes fluttered!”

  I shook my head. “She’s been doing that. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just know.”

  She let Chana’s eyelid close and put a hand on her hip. “What aren’t you telling us?”

  I tucked my hair behind my ear. “Nothing.”

  “Enael!”

  I’d kept some things to myself because I didn’t want anyone to worry, but I couldn’t lie to them anymore. My bond with Zaponsla was too strong—even now her frustration and annoyance hit me squarely—and she must have felt my guilt, despite my attempts to hide it. I’d picked
up a trick or two from Voctic, but not enough to completely mute my feelings.

  “Come on, Enael. You have to tell me. Don’t make me command you.”

  Harbinger looked on silently, waiting with hands folded primly over her skirt. One of these days, I would ask what was wrong.

  “Fine, fine.” I waved a hand. Zaponsla wouldn’t command me, but she would, however, harangue me until I finally told her. “A couple days after she went into the coma, I started getting these, hmm, emotion spikes. Yesterday, she was angry—furious—but she stayed still, motionless. I was assaulted with all her feelings, enough that I left to get some distance. It didn’t help much, though, but at least I was able to calm myself in the Garden.”

  Harbinger spoke. “You’re still able to feel her emotions? That didn’t go away after she died?”

  “It’s been the same since she was young. I could feel it even before she embodied.”

  “And you say now she’s having spikes?” prompted Zaponsla.

  “A few days ago, it was lust. Last week, it was happiness. I almost expected her to burst into laughter. She didn’t, though. She kept laying there, still, and I couldn’t stop wondering what it meant.”

  “What does it mean?”

  We gazed down at the sleeping woman together. I brushed a finger over her eyebrow. “I don’t know, but when she twitches, I don’t feel the emotions. That’s how I know they don’t matter.”

  Zaponsla turned her head. “Does she look strange to you?”

  I blinked. She did seem to be arching her back. “Maybe someone tucked a blanket underneath her.”

  We felt along her sides, but everything seemed to be in order. But now it was definitely getting worse. Her torso jutted up, and she looked like she was about to fall over, though she slept soundly.

  “Let’s turn her,” I said.

  Gently, we rolled her onto her side. The back of her gown billowed out, and I pulled it away to peer at her shoulders. “She’s growing wings!”

  Harbinger leaned forward. “What?”

  We propped her onto some pillows to keep her sideways. I called a knife to hand, not even caring any more that it looked like Voctic’s—it seemed a fitting homage—and cut away the back of her robe.

  Wings they were. Tiny crystalline feathers, like a newborn’s, sprouted and grew along with them, slower than when Kaspen and I had received our wings again in the Nexus, but fast enough we could see them expanding. We watched, Zaponsla with mouth open, me blinking in disbelief, Harbinger ever silent.

  “Should we call the Tenders?” Zaponsla said.

  “Let’s just wait. Maybe she’ll wake up after this.”

  Could this be because she successfully lived a human life and is now realizing her angelic side? Maybe it had nothing to do with the trauma she’d suffered, but was a natural part of whatever process she would go through as a Dominion. I wanted to believe that, but I was so afraid she’d been damaged by her time in the concentration camp that I didn’t dare hope.

  The wings finally reached full size, but Chana still showed no signs of waking.

  “Let’s lay her back down,” I said.

  We rolled her over again and arranged her wings around her carefully. She didn’t stir.

  “Now should we call the Tenders?” asked Zaponsla.

  “I think perhaps—”

  Chana’s eyes flew open and she made a horrendous sucking noise, gasping for air, though she didn’t need it in Heaven. Her wings turned from crystalline to iridescent, taking on the rainbow sheen of the Attendants.

  “Chana?” I said.

  “Enael! Listen to me! I know who the Aleph is, and I’m—”

  She gasped again, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she flopped back onto her wings, one arm flung to the side.

  “No!” Zaponsla’s wings kicked up a breeze as she beat them in frustration. Harbinger clutched Chana’s hand, stroking it, but she didn’t respond.

  “Chana!” I shook her. “Chana, wake up! Tell us what you know! What’s happening to you? Chana!”

  “What is this?” Zaponsla said. “How can she— Why?”

  Chana was well and truly asleep again. I rearranged her to be more comfortable on the bed, tucked her wings around her, and smoothed a hand over her hair. Bending down, I kissed her temple and then straightened. “That’s it. Enough sitting at her bedside. We’re going to the Archives.”

  “What’s in the Archives?” said Zaponsla.

  I smoothed a hand over Chana’s soft, blue blanket. “Answers.”

  CHAPTER 35

  The sky was busy with Nephilim flying here and there. The attack on Normandy was only a couple days away. I’d agreed to meet Parsiel and Heppeliam in the Praetorium after my regular visit to Chana, but getting answers seemed more important. All the final details were in place, and we were simply waiting for Operation Neptune to begin. In the meantime, I’d not yet had a chance to visit the Ancient Collection that Serinh had mentioned, and I couldn’t wait to find out what it contained.

  Harbinger was silent as we flew her between us to the Archives, but Zaponsla chattered on. “I can’t believe Chana would just wake up and tell us that she knows who the Aleph is and then not tell us. What kind of a cruel trick is that?”

  “She didn’t appear to be playing a trick,” I mused.

  “Well, of course not. But maybe the Source doesn’t want us to know. Or the Aleph itself. What if it’s done something to her? She’s fighting through its influence and she’s not able to talk to us because of what it did to her.”

  “I don’t think that’s it, either. The Aleph didn’t have an opportunity to influence her.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “She seems to be undergoing a transformation of some sort,” I said. “Like a caterpillar emerging as a butterfly.”

  “You’re just saying that because she’s growing wings.”

  “Maybe.” But I didn’t know how else to explain it. She was going through a metamorphosis, and when she finally woke up, she would be something we’d never dreamed of.

  If only I knew what that was. If only I knew if it would help us.

  “I think she’s right,” said Harbinger.

  “Do you know what’s happening?” said Zaponsla. “You’ve been awfully quiet lately.”

  “Yes, well, I have things on my mind. And no, I don’t know what’s happening.”

  We landed in front of the Archives, nearly running into a group of Engineers with armloads of Books.

  One said, “Watch where you’re—”

  Another elbowed him. “That’s Enael. Show your respect.”

  His eyes widened. “My apologies. I just thought you were just a Nephil.”

  “I am just a Nephil.” Despite my request to ascend Zaponsla, I’d not wanted to cause a fuss over myself. I was happy to keep cobalt wings, and no one on the Council had suggested otherwise.

  The Engineer’s group started walking away, but he lingered. “I need you to know that I’m with you. I pledge myself to the Cornerstone.”

  My mouth fell open, but before I could answer, he hurried after the others.

  “What was that about?” I asked.

  Zaponsla was looking up into the sky, studying the beam of light off in the distance. “No idea.”

  “Did you… ?”

  She looked at her fingernails.

  “Zaponsla!”

  “Haven’t you been wondering why the Seraphim are listening to you more lately?”

  I hadn’t—not really—assuming that my carpe diem attitude was working on convincing them I would save Heaven.

  “I may have told some of my squad leaders that I pledged myself to you,” she said. Embarrassment with a hint of defiance flowed through our bond. “They may have told some others.”

  “Who told some others, who told some others.” Harbinger’s smile was subdued but at least it was a smile. I was starting to worry she’d never smile again. “The angelic rumor mill is as bad as the human one.”

/>   Zaponsla pulled us inside the Praetorium’s doors and lowered her voice. “It might have started with a slip of the tongue, but it’s important you have this support.”

  I could see her point, but an Engineer pledging himself into my service as I wandered around Heaven was exceedingly uncomfortable. “I don’t like this.”

  “It’s too late for that,” said Harbinger. “What’s done is done. And it is important that these beings believe in you. You can’t expect to defeat the Aleph without them.”

  “Why not?” Now I was being ridiculous, but I was having trouble wrapping my mind around everything.

  Harbinger put a hand on my shoulder. “How many dozens of humans have you guarded? You know very well why. No one does anything of importance alone. Do they?”

  “I…” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yes. I know. Thank you. For believing in me.”

  Harbinger bowed her head, and Zaponsla pulled me into an embrace. “We’re here for you.”

  “And for what it’s worth,” said Harbinger, “I also pledge myself to the Cornerstone.”

  That, somehow, was more embarrassing than being accosted by some random angel. “Yes, well,” I cleared my throat. “Let’s get going. We’re here for a purpose and we have little time left.”

  The yellow-winged Keeper at the desk stood as we approached. “How may I serve, Cornerstone?”

  The title now held weight it hadn’t mere minutes before. Did that mean this was one of my new followers? Zaponsla’s secret smile told me it did.

  “Quickly,” I said, “we need access to the Ancient Collection.”

  “I thought we were here for Chana’s wings,” whispered Zaponsla.

  “We were never here for Chana’s wings. We’re here for the Aleph.”

  The Keeper, though standing only two paces away, made no comment on our conversation. She scribbled in her book, then scribbled again, and finally said, “Come along with me.”

  A door behind the receiving desk opened as we approached. I’d never been into the Archives this way—I thought perhaps it led somewhere mundane, like a room where Keepers stored their receiving desk books or took breaks. Indeed, the room she led us through had a row of neatly lined up, yellow-bound books. But then she threw open another door and started down a staircase.