by R. E. Vance
He just stood in the impossibly dense solid air, surrounded by a halo of light apparently completely shielding Michael from the pressure and the weight of being inside Grinner’s crushing sphere. I could see the strain. There was no doubt that he was burning through time—a wildfire of years, stripping away what he had left.
The strain on Michael’s face was palpable and for the first time in all the years of war and battle, all the encounters I’d had with angels of all hierarchies, I saw an angel sweat. I thought that wasn’t possible, that somehow they were created without sweat glands. But he did. Little beads of sweat formed on his forehead which, in turn, became streams that ran down his face. It was somehow so humbling and terrifying to see the archangel Michael sweat. It made him look so weak. So mortal. So human.
Michael could die. But still, he was putting up some kind of fight, because Grinner’s own face was strained as he concentrated on dealing with the archangel, all his attention on the sphere that he had conjured.
I had to do something. I had to help. “Quick, Asal, take me to the edge.” Asal faithfully did as I asked and when we were close, I dismounted. Cautiously I took a step forward and came up against the hardened air. I felt around. Any structure that recklessly compacted would have a weakness, a point where the compression was uneven. I’d seen it with stones compressed for asphalt, with structures compressed by the deep sea—I’d even seen it with my over-baked cookies. It had worked with the ceiling. The pressure had to be uneven and there was no way Grinner was concentrating on that. All I had to do was find the weak spot and exploit it.
My hands ran across the transparent surface, smooth and solid. It was perfect. I guessed when you employed the entirety of gravity it would be even and—
My hand ran across a slight ripple. A scratch thinner than a hair that disrupted the smooth surface. It was hardly anything, but it would have to do. I pulled out my hunting sword and struck down on the fracture. Nothing. I hit again and my blade reverberated against the surface like an aluminum baseball bat hitting a giant gong. No, no! This wasn’t working and I could see Michael starting to fail. His knees were shaking and the sweat was stained with particles of light. Damn it! No. I took my hunting sword and thrust it point first into the hairline crack and … it stuck.
Hot GoneGodDamn! It stuck. I pushed, but it didn’t budge. I doubled my efforts, crying out with all the strength I could summon, and although it moved forward a millimeter, it was still not enough. Then the minotaur with the now-destroyed horn came forth, dusting off bits of the building Grinner had thrown him into. “Master Human,” he snorted. “Let us … Together.”
“Asal, take a step back,” I said as I knelt to hold the blade steady and the one-horned minotaur readied himself to swing. He pulled back and rocketed forth his mighty war hammer, connecting perfectly with the end of the hilt. Once, twice, thrice, the bull struck. Four, five, six—it was working, but too slowly to be of use. “This is hopeless,” I said looking over at Grinner, who still focused his power on containing the archangel.
“No, not hopeless. Let Yara-Uno be of assistance,” said the Australian vampire.
In the hole that my blade created, Yara-Uno inserted the needle-sharp point of his fencing sword. He hung there, ineffectual and limp. I was about to pull it out and resume the attack with the sword when the minotaur put a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and he shook his head. Yara-Uno pulled out the needle and closed his eyes, lifting it in line with his nose. Then he began humming—not humming, so much as vibrating. The Earth beneath us shook and bits of rubble started lifting from the ground.
Without warning Yara-Uno opened his eyes, which were now two white disks, more headlights than eyes, and yelled, “I am Yara-Uno, the last of the great Ma-Yha-Who clan, and I summon the strength of all my ancestors and their ancestors before them. I summon my bloodline from the dawn of time and before. I summon all of them for one last strike!”
I swear to all that I know to be true, in whatever universe the GoneGods were, they felt this little guy’s cry. Yara-Uno thrust his needle’s tip into the hole and beyond, and with a whopping crackle, the atmosphere cracked.
And splintered.
With a burst of energy, the solid air shattered.
The minotaur must have sensed that the thing would fly apart because he shielded me and Yara-Uno from the blast as invisible shards of atmosphere pierced his back before turning into harmless, effervescent air. I could see the life leaving him—one more soul going nowhere—and as it did, I said the only words I knew to comfort him.
“You fought well. The angel is free.”
The beast smiled as his eyes glazed over. Then his face took on the expressionless indifference of death.
Michael, now free, did not hesitate. He leaped forward with unearthly speed and grabbed Grinner by the throat. I thought he was about to snap the Other’s neck or smash him against the ground. Punch him in the teeth, rip his head off. I could see that part of the archangel wished to do so, but another part of him, the part that made Michael Michael, hesitated. I could see him grimace from the battle that raged within him. Suddenly the archangel pulled Grinner’s face in close and whispered something in his ear. Then he let the maniac go.
Grinner nodded, looked around and then disappeared.
“What’s wrong with you?!” I screamed. “You had him, and you just let him go!”
“I swore an oath long ago that I should never harm a First Law. It was part of the covenant between the Highest Order of Angels and Nature,” Michael said, surveying the carnage. All around us were hurt Others. Yara-Uno, ever the leader, was organizing the less hurt to tend to the mortally wounded.
And Michael let him go! Rage overcame me and now it was my turn to poke a finger at the archangel’s chest. “The old oaths don’t matter anymore!” I growled. “Not since they left.”
The archangel dismissed me. He was an angel of the highest order and a little thing like his god abandoning him wasn’t going to stop him from being who he was. I guess I understood. It was all he had left. It was all any of us really ever had. “I upheld my vow and will live with the consequences of doing so. What I have done is to grant us time to prepare and give you an opportunity to run.”
“Run?! I will never—”
But before I could finish the sentence the great angel dropped to one knee and, breathing heavily, vomited a mixture of food and light. From where I stood, I could see the angel had several broken ribs. I felt my own chest: my insides felt so crunched together from my time in the sphere. I was sure there was some internal bleeding. I calmed down—the next steps could wait. He was right. We needed time to heal, to regroup.
I sat by the angel, happy to be resting, and said in a soft voice, “What did you say to him?”
“I asked him a question,” Michael said and as he did, he regained a bit of his majesty.
“What, like a riddle?” I asked.
“In a way … I asked him to solve a mystery for me.”
“A mystery.” I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. I mean, really, really laughing. I think I must have broken two more ribs as I keeled over and brayed. At first, Michael looked at me, confused. Then he joined in. Soldier to soldier, he understood. You laugh now because you might not get a chance tomorrow.
We must have been quite the sight—a human and an archangel sharing a joke no one else got. Eventually our laughter died down and I asked, “You sent that maniac away with a ‘mystery,’ whatever that means, and what happens when he solves it? Do you tell him a joke?”
Michael went solemn. “When he solves it, Human Jean, he will return and there is nothing I or anyOther can do,” the archangel said.
Hellelujah! Way to kill the mood.
Chapter 5
Choices, Choices
When I was a kid, the circus came to town. Everyone gathered to watch the parade of clowns and jugglers, animals and trainers, daredevils and ringleaders march down the street. I was fascinated by all those exotic creature
s marching down the road. Man oh man, I loved every minute of it. I was only ten at the time. Now, my mind went back to that day as we walked down the streets of Paradise Lot. We must have looked like a macabre version of that circus, a funeral procession of horns and hooves, humans and Others, misery and pain.
As we walked, Asal informed me that I was the second human to be carried by him. The first was Kvasir, the human responsible for brokering peace between the Aesir of Asgard and the Vanir. And the reward for his good deeds? He was tricked and killed by dwarves, his blood brewed into the Mead of Poetry.
“You know, Human Jean, if you too were to meet a similar fate, then that would mean that my carrying you now foreshadows your death. How poetic!” Asal was way too excited by the prospect of my death.
Yara-Uno looked over at me as we made our way down the street and in a downtrodden voice said, “I did not win this night.”
“Hey, you’re still breathing. That means you didn’t lose, either,” I said.
Yara-Uno shook his head. “I failed to avenge the Unicorn.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said. “Maybe revenge isn’t what the Unicorn would have wanted. Maybe he was after something else altogether. He came to Paradise Lot to make things better for everyone. Maybe that’s how you can honor him.”
“As the one who was by his side as he died, tell me the truth. Is that truly what he would have wanted?”
“Yes,” I said, thinking back to the brief moments I had spent with Joseph. He was all about peace. About feeling good and taking care of others. “Yes,” I repeated.
Yara-Uno considered my words. “Then I shall honor the Unicorn as he wished to be honored. I shall make this place better for everyone.” Looking over at me, he said in a triumphant voice, “And Yara-Uno never loses.”
Our procession of doom and gloom eventually ended at St. Mercy’s Hospital, where Miral divided the wounded that needed treatment from the dying that needed comfort.
Miral was Paradise Lot’s true angel that night and for as long as I live, I will forever be grateful to her for all she did.
↔
The fairy receptionist took me to my own room, courtesy of Michael, who insisted that we have a private place to speak. The receptionist gave me some painkillers—finally!—and a towel, reminding me that I was still covered with now-dried sewage. “Try to flush the solid pieces down the toilet,” she said, pointing at the shower.
Fine by me. I peeled off CaCa’s cast, though my ankle immediately ached with the desire to get back into its warm embrace. I stripped off my clothes, setting my collarless jacket, with Hermes’s parting gift of wax safe inside it, on the counter, and hopped in the shower. The warm water felt good. As it cascaded over me, I had time to clear my head and think.
This Grinner guy wasn’t going down easily, if at all. Half of Paradise Lot attacked him with swords and magic, and they barely got any licks in.
“No more time,” I said to tiles on the bathroom wall. “Burning time isn’t going to kill him.” Trouble was, if a whole army burning time didn’t hurt him, then what would? It was then I made a resolution that I wouldn’t let another Other waste a minute of time on Grinner. Whatever the solution was going to be, it would have to be done without magic.
I was still in the shower when Miral burst in. “How long have you been dreaming of her?”
“Hey!” I screamed, “I’m naked!”
“Oh please, I’ve seen your kind naked before. Now answer me—how long?”
“Shouldn’t you be taking care of the wounded?” I said, wrapping a towel around myself while trying to turn off the water.
“I have stabilized those who needed it, and there are nurses and other doctors. And don’t change the subject!”
“How do you know about Bella?” I started, while I tried to shimmy my underwear under my towel.
“The Avatar of Gravity told me all,” Michael said as he walked in. “Of all the humans to be crucial for the restarting of the world, I would never have thought—you? As for the end of the world … That I would have whole-heartedly predicted.” Michael smirked. He was making a joke, or at least trying to. Michael had many strengths. Humor was not one of them.
“How long?” Miral repeated, pacing the room.
“Six years,” I said, managing to put on my pants. My shirt, however, was behind Miral. It would have to wait.
“And you never thought to tell me?” she asked.
“Tell you? Tell you! Why is everyone suddenly interested in my dreams? OK, yes, I’ve dreamt of her every night since I went AWOL. But I thought she was just a dream. My dream. A hallucination of someone barely holding it together. I thought I was crazy, but you know what, if being crazy meant seeing her, I just figured sanity was overrated. You know?”
“Human Jean-Luc, if you think that excuses—”
“I don’t care! Bella is alive,” I said, lifting my hand, “she’s alive,” the sound draining out of me as I said the words out loud. “That means that we can be together again.” My heart contracted with every word, like it was trying to push out every drop of blood. Bella is alive and we can be together again.
Miral stopped pacing and gave me a look that would melt a puppy’s heart. I swear, these angels and their expressions. But she said nothing, the words failing to leave her lips. We stared at each other for a long time before Michael finally broke the silence with words that came out uncharacteristically soft.
“I am afraid not. She is dead.”
“But in the Void. She’s alive in the Void.”
“No, it is not her that lives, but her soul. Once the soul leaves the body …” He sighed, shaking his head. “Death is a one-way valve. Once you cross the threshold, there is no way back.”
“But there has to be a way to bring her back.”
“No, Human Jean, there is none.”
“Then send me to her,” I said, “… please.”
Again the angels gave me that look of sympathy, only this time it was more like that of a mother trying to fix their child’s first real boo-boo. How do they do that?
“No, Jean,” Miral said, her voice infinitely soft. “When the gods left, they took with them the path for souls to follow. Whereas death to Others means the ceasing of existence, death to your kind now means that your soul wanders aimlessly until the nothing of Beyond erases it. I am sorry, but your death will not reunite you with her.”
“But …” I said, “there has to be a way.”
“Perhaps,” Miral said. “We would need time to consult other Others to find a way. But with the Avatar of Gravity desperate to have you, I fear that time is not on our side.”
“That is why we must hide the human,” Michael said to Miral, and I got the impression he was recalling a recent conversation of theirs. “While the Avatar is occupied, we must use this opportunity to run.”
“Oh yeah,” I said, looking up at the archangel, “why didn’t you kill him? I mean, your hands were around his neck.”
“I already told you—”
“ ‘I vowed never to harm a First Law,’ ” I said in a mocking baritone. “OK, fine—but what did you say to him to make him go away?”
My sarcasm was either missed or ignored, because Michael nodded with pride, walked over to the room’s window and pulled back the curtains, revealing the night sky. Even with the light of the room and the lights of Paradise Lot, I could still see stars floating above. Michael looked out at them and said, “After God and the gods left, many of the stars’ orbits changed. This galaxy does not follow the same paths as it once did.”
This, I already knew. Hell, everyone knew it, with whole new sciences popping up to explain what happened. AstroMetaPhysics they called it, and some of humanity and Other’s top minds were working on the reason why—and getting nowhere, I might add. I never much cared for the new science. What was the point? The oceans still had tides, the world still had seasons. So what if the stars didn’t follow the same orbits they once did? In truth, the only pra
ctical effect this change had on my life was that the Sunday paper’s Astrology Fortune Telling page no longer printed the typical “Fortune finds you,” or “Ask and the answer will be yes,” but rather essays on what the new GoneGod world had in store for me. And it was rarely good.
Michael sighed and continued. “I asked him to explain to me the Natural Law that would allow for such a difference. In other words, I bought us time.”
“For what?”
“To hide you.”
“Do you know how many Others died today because of that—that creature? I’m not hiding.”
Michael leaned over, looking straight down at me, and said, “Yes, you are. Do you understand how many more are at risk because of you? He will level this city to find you. The only way to save Paradise Lot is for you to not be here. That, or …” He drew a finger across his neck.
“There will be none of that,” Miral cut in. “We will do what we have always done. Protect humans. Protect that human.” She pointed at me.
Michael grunted, shrugging his shoulders. “Very well, then … it is settled. You run. You hide,” his voice drummed, giving me a look that, I swear, said, Like all cowardly humans do. But then again, I might have been over-sensitive.
I shook my head. “No.”
“He will come for you again.”
“Then keep sending him away with riddle after riddle. I bet you we could come up with thousands of them. What has four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon and three at night?”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Michael said calmly.
“Man. What is black and white and red all over?”
“I said—” Michael was speaking a bit more slowly now, pronouncing each word, “—it doesn’t work like that.”
“A newspaper … How about this one? Thirty white horses on a red hill: first they champ—”
“I said!”