“Camael, bring some dry firewood,” Gabriel went on. “You might need to hop over to Scotland itself for that.”
Camael bowed. “Yes, my lord.”
“And I’ll be back in ten minutes with food,” Gabriel said.
“Thank you, my lord.” Frank bowed to him.
“No problem at all.” Gabriel blipped out. He went to Edinburgh, blurring into human clothing so as not to draw too much attention to himself, and made his way through the nearest supermarket. In addition to the staples and two large cases of bottled water, Gabriel also bought some fish and some chicken, some fruit, and a box of potatoes, carrots, and turnips. When he’d paid for everything and wheeled the shopping cart into the parking lot, he looked around furtively and ducked behind the supermarket building. Stacking his purchases up on the ground, he rested a hand on the top of the pile and concentrated, moving them and himself back to the warm interior of Frank’s home.
Camael had returned, he saw, and was neatly stacking a large pile of firewood. “There are bags with more in the lean-to at the side of the stables where the sheep are,” Camael said. “I also got some charcoal. I hope that helps, Brother Frank.”
“You are very kind, young one,” Frank said. “I am very grateful. Thank you.”
Camael smiled. “It’s my pleasure.”
“I got food for you,” Gabriel said. “I grabbed a few other things too, some fish and chicken, fruit, veggies, that sort of thing. I’ll put them away for you, Frank.”
Frank’s expression was one of overwhelmed gratitude. “This is so kind of you all. Thank you, thank you all.”
“Do you require anything else?” Michael asked. “I can ask Raphael to stop by and make sure that you do not require medications or anything, if that would be helpful.”
Frank lowered his head and murmured a soft prayer of thanks. “You are so kind to me, holy one.”
“You are a good man,” Michael said. “If we can help, then we will.”
“I am all right, thank you.” Frank took Michael’s hands between his. “I will be well now that there is food and firewood.”
“And the sheep are safe under cover,” Asaf said, returning. “We fed and watered them, too.”
“Thank you,” Frank said.
“We will not trouble you longer,” Michael said. “I am glad you are safe and well, brother. God be with you.”
“God go with you, also.”
Michael gently pulled his hands back and stood, moving to Gabriel and the three other angels. “He is well,” Michael said in a soft voice. “We should not tarry here. Where do we go next, Gabriel?”
Gabriel considered it even as he blurred back into his armor. “How about we visit Sorella?”
“As you say. Lead us onward.”
Gabriel vanished. When he emerged in the world, not far from the tent that Sorella lived in, he winced; unlike the cold and wet climate of St. Kilda, the Congo was hot. And humid. It didn’t take him long to feel as if he were drowning in his own sweat.
As Michael, Camael, Asaf, and Vel joined him, Gabriel saw that he wasn’t the only one to feel the heat. Within minutes, all of them were perspiring heavily and shifting in their armor.
“I feel like I’m being roasted alive,” Gabriel muttered as he picked his way toward Sorella’s home.
“I imagine this is how a sardine feels,” Vel agreed.
Gabriel laughed at that. “Aye, and all we need to complete that experience is to be covered in olive oil.”
Vel and Asaf laughed, and Michael quirked a smile at Gabriel. Camael remained silent, his gaze on the camp they were walking through, the squalor of the tents and makeshift homes, the children running about in ragged clothing, the adults regarding the five angels with suspicion on their faces.
“They live in terrible conditions,” Camael said.
“Aye, but there’s always hope,” Gabriel said. “And happiness. Look at those children there,” he pointed toward a large group of laughing and shrieking children and teenagers involved in a game of football with a soccer ball that had seen better days. “It ain’t always doom and gloom.”
“We could make their lives better,” Camael protested. “Clean up the filth and make sure they keep this place clean. It’s worse than a city dump! We could give them money and better tents!”
“To what end?” Michael asked. “The warlords who live here would simply come with their guns and weapons and take from these good people. They would kill them or rape them, steal their children to serve in their militias. We help in less obvious ways, certainly, but we cannot do too much.”
“I do not like it,” Camael said.
“Nor do I, but this is how it is,” Michael said. “Come. Where is Sorella, Gabriel?”
“Just over here.” Gabriel led the way to her tent. “Hello, Sorella.”
Sorella looked up. She had been watching the children playing and now she smiled as she squinted up at him. “Mr. Gabriel. Good to see you.”
“And you. This is Michael,” Gabriel introduced him to her, “and Camael, Vel, and Asaf.”
“Hello,” Sorella said to them. “So what brings you here today? You look like you’re drowning, Mr. Gabriel.”
Gabriel laughed. “It’s pretty hot here, aye. We just came to see how you were is all. Everything all right?”
“I had a daughter two months ago, Mr. Gabriel. A beautiful little girl. Would you like to meet her?”
“I’d be honored,” Gabriel said as Sorella moved into her tent and came back with a swaddling-wrapped infant. The baby was asleep, and Gabriel couldn’t stop himself from making a little cooing noise as he took her from Sorella. “She’s beautiful,” he said, gently touching the infant’s cheek.
“Thank you.”
“What’s her name?”
“Nicia,” Sorella said.
Gabriel hummed and the baby opened her eyes, gazing at him with a serious expression. “Hello, Nicia,” Gabriel said softly. “Blessings on you, little one.”
He was rewarded with the widest smile he could ever remember seeing. The baby giggled and cooed at him, tugging one arm free of her swaddling and gripping his finger.
“She is beautiful,” Michael said as he stood close by Gabriel, smiling.
“Thank you, m’lord.” Sorella bobbed a curtsey to him.
“Will she be safe here?” Asaf asked.
Sorella shrugged. “What will be, will be, m’lord.”
“It’s not the safest place if what Gabriel said is true,” Asaf went on. “Warlords? Child stealers?”
Sorella’s expression became flinty. “That happens all over the place, angel. Not just here in the Congo.” She took her daughter back from Gabriel’s arms. “Thank you for visiting, Mr. Gabriel. You and Mr. Michael are always welcome. How’s Mr. Raziel?”
“He’s good,” Gabriel said as he gently touched the baby’s cheek one last time.
“Say hello from me?”
“Aye, of course.” Gabriel shot a quick look over his shoulder at the other three angels, who were looking distinctly uncomfortable. Asaf’s expression was one of extreme disapproval. Gabriel turned back to Sorella. “I’m sorry for their attitudes. You’re happy, your baby’s happy, that’s what matters.”
Sorella nodded. “I know. Just, a lot of folk say these things. They got no real idea.”
“No,” Michael agreed, “they do not. Would you permit me to give your daughter a blessing before we leave?”
“I’d be honored, Mr. Michael,” Sorella said.
Michael laid his hand gently on top of the baby’s head. He murmured a few words in Aramaic, and the little girl giggled happily as he smoothed his thumb over her forehead. Then he removed his hand and gave Sorella a shallow bow. “We shall leave now. I do not want to bring unwanted attention to you, and I fear if we remain, that will happen.”
“Thank you,” Sorella said. “You and Mr. Gabriel are welcome any time. Like Mr. Raziel. But… next time, don’t wear the armor.”
Gabrie
l laughed. “We won’t. We’ll see you again soon, Sorella and Nicia.”
She waved to him, and he turned and walked to the other three angels, who stood in the dirt and dust. “Follow me,” he ordered. He did not look back to see if they obeyed. If they did not, then they would be punished. They were seasoned-enough soldiers to follow orders without questioning them.
He smiled as Michael fell into step beside him, and they walked to a large brick building that had at one time been a Red Cross station and was now surrounded by barbed wire and covered with graffiti.
“These people demean themselves,” Vel said as they walked.
“And they demean each other,” Asaf said.
“This whole country demeans itself,” Camael declared.
“A purge would do it good. Get rid of the warlords, clean this place up.” Vel shook his head as Gabriel turned to fix him with an icy glare. “Sorry, sir.”
“Be silent,” Gabriel growled.
“I wish to speak with those three about their attitude when we return to Yerevan,” Michael said to Gabriel. His voice was just loud enough for the younger angels to hear.
“Aye, same.” Gabriel shook his head. “If they thought here was bad, they’re gonna flip when we go to North Korea.”
Michael sighed. “We should go there next, then.”
“Get it over and done?”
“Yes, something like that.”
“All right.” Gabriel reached out with his power, encouraging the curious who were watching them to look elsewhere, and then he moved, feeling Michael and the others teleporting barely a second after him, following him to North Korea and the communal farm that was home to Jihu.
North Korea was not so hot nor so cold, and Gabriel was relieved. He was still sweating a little, and he mopped his face with the edge of his cloak.
“Excuse me, sir,” Vel said, his voice deferential, “why didn’t we tell these humans what was going on?”
“’Cause they don’t need to know yet. If something happens, then we’ll mention it. But for now, making sure they’re all right is the priority.”
“I don’t understand, sir,” Vel said.
Michael gazed at him seriously. “Do you understand why people would live in such a fashion as Sorella and her daughter?”
“No,” Vel said immediately.
“Humans are adaptable,” Michael said. “Where you see only squalor and fear, they are able to find hope and joy, happiness, and home. We are ancient and we evolve slower than they. Just because something is unpleasant to us does not make it so to them.”
Vel shook his head, his expression thoughtful. “But humans have so much potential to live better than that. Better than this.” He gestured to the commune. “There is a man up on that ridge with a large gun. He’s wearing a uniform. Yet he is thin, hungry, and cold. Why does he remain?”
“Ah,” Michael said. “This nation is… different. Here it is a rule of fear, a rule that is governed by an iron fist. Fear is a mighty tool, Vel.”
“But are any of these people happy?” Asaf asked.
“Aye,” Gabriel said. “Happiness is something that we all of us make for ourselves. Humans are better at it; they’ve been doing it longer. Watch and learn. Keep an open mind and don’t be quick to judge, yeah?”
Asaf hung his head. “Sorry, sir.”
“Aye, well. Learn as we go, yeah?”
Asaf nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Vel nodded as well. His expression was thoughtful. “This is much more informative than looking at forests.”
Gabriel chuckled at that. “I wager it is. Come along now and meet Jihu. I warn you, he’ll be nervous. So keep silent and let Michael do the talking here.”
“Yes, sir,” the three angels said, and they fell into step, trailing behind Gabriel and Michael as the two Archangels made their way through thigh-high grass to the home of Jihu the shaman.
Chapter Eight
EMERGING IN a clearing in a forest perhaps two miles from Dere Street, Raziel shook his head to clear the cobwebs that such a long and difficult teleportation had caused and looked around.
Uriel, Shateiel, and Agrat were taking large breaths, and Agrat looked pale. The three Venatores, however, were bent double, and Lily was making retching noises.
“Are you all right?” Raziel asked.
Uriel grunted. “I feel like I’ve been rolled around in a bag of rocks.”
Raziel laughed at that. “That’s a good way of describing it.” He turned to the Venatores. “How are you three?”
“Exhausted,” Angelique said. She was rubbing Lily’s back. “I’m not throwing up, though.”
Raziel reached out stealthily with his power and pulled a jug of water from nearby Vinovia to him. “Here.” He held it out and Angelique took it. Agrat rummaged in one of the trunks and found goblets, which she held out to Angelique to fill with water.
“Drink slowly,” Raziel advised as Lily took a goblet. “I don’t think we should make any moves today. We’ll make camp here tonight and then around four a.m. tomorrow, we’ll go out and make ourselves look as if we’re traveling up from Londinium.”
“All right. Shateiel, help me set up,” Uriel said.
Shateiel nodded and Raziel stretched, unfurling his wings. “I’ll take a look around,” he said.
“Be careful,” Uriel said.
Raziel snorted but didn’t dignify that with a verbal response. He brought his wings down in a powerful stroke and took off, shielding himself as he flew above the trees and toward Vinovia.
The town was asleep for the most part; there were a few lights on in two of the houses in the vicus, the civil settlement, and there were sleepy-eyed legionnaires patrolling the walls of the fort. All was as it should be, and Raziel noted that there was no sign of any bandits or demons. In fact, Vinovia seemed calm and tranquil, and he was indescribably relieved.
As he made his way over the town, he took in the layout. There was a large inn, a public bathhouse, and a public square. The houses were built around those, mostly constructed of wood, but some were made of stone. One house was a villa, set slightly apart from the others, and Raziel assumed that was the home of the prefect or governor of the area. Dere Street, one of the major roads that crossed all of Britannia, was deserted.
The only sounds were the sleepy chirps of birds in the trees and the occasional whinny of a horse. Raziel took in the mausolea, the road lined with headstones of the dead, and the fortifications that the legions stationed there had installed to protect both the fort and the vicus.
His survey took a little over an hour. It was not quite dawn, and Raziel decided that taking a day to rest and recover—particularly for the three shifters—was the best course of action. He returned to the clearing and was surprised to see that not only was a large, military-style pavilion set up, but there was also a comfortable-looking wagon and five horses picketed close by.
“You’ve been busy,” Raziel said as he joined Shateiel and Uriel. “And discreet—I didn’t hear a thing.”
“We figured being quiet was the best plan. Any demons around?” Uriel asked.
Raziel shook his head. “No. I couldn’t detect anything other than humans and their animals.”
“How’s the land look?” Uriel asked.
“Tranquil. You two should appreciate the military fortifications. The vicus looks quite pleasant, actually.”
“How many soldiers are stationed here, sir?” Shateiel asked, his mental voice respectful.
“I’d say there are two full legions. I could see their tents and huts, and there were half a dozen patrolling the walls of the fort.” Raziel sat down on the grass. “All in all, Joseph chose himself quite a nice spot to spend his declining years.”
Uriel sat down beside him, his chain mail clinking softly. “Shateiel offered to take first watch,” he said. “We should get some rest.”
“Okay.” Raziel stretched. “That was quite a trip, wasn’t it?”
“It was very long,” Shate
iel said ruefully.
Raziel chuckled. “True. It was difficult too. Usually when we travel, we aren’t carrying a heavy load as well.”
“Or going back in time a couple of thousand years.” Uriel got back onto his feet, gently tugging Raziel with him. “Come on, Razzy. You look tired. Lie down for a bit.”
“All right.” Raziel didn’t deny that he was tired. Lying flat for a few hours sounded like paradise.
“Shateiel, I’ll relieve you in four hours,” Uriel said, and Shateiel saluted smartly.
“We should let the kids sleep tomorrow,” Raziel said. “They might be Venatores and shifters, but that trip would have worn them out more than us. Is Lily all right?”
“She’ll be fine,” Uriel said. “Agrat said they just need a good night’s sleep and some food tomorrow, and then they’ll be okay.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear that.” Raziel yawned. “Gracious! Okay, time to lie down.”
“I should damn well think so,” Uriel growled. Shateiel grinned and saluted the two of them as Raziel made his way into the pavilion.
They’d done very well with setting it up, he saw. It was partitioned into three spaces—a common area with rugs, cushions, and chairs and a table, their trunks and boxes set to one side. Beyond that were two other areas, one for the Venatores, who were sleeping to judge by the sound of the snoring coming from behind the cotton sheet that served as a wall. The other side was more open, with mats, blankets, and furs laid out.
With a contented groan, Raziel sat down on one of the mats and began to unlace his caligae, wriggling his toes as he tugged the footwear off. He pulled off his toga and then his tunic, not caring that he was naked beneath, and lay back, making a loud, happy groan.
“Here.” Uriel threw a blanket over him, and Raziel spread it over himself.
“Thanks, babe,” Raziel said as Uriel began to strip off his armor. “You joining me?”
“Yeah. I need to rest a bit, too. I’m getting old.”
“We’re all getting old,” Agrat said. Raziel started a little; he hadn’t seen her when he’d entered the sleeping area. He turned his head and saw why—she was covered with blankets and furs, and only her face peeped out from beneath them.
The Crystal Lake Page 9