An Arrow In Flight (Seven Archangels Book 1)

by Jane Lebak

  Saraquael settled on the ground beside the dead campfire. "Well, as long as I'm here, you have a message. The Lord says you've chosen a good family to travel with."

  And as long as he was here, Gabriel might as well figure out what he was doing with his next few days: "What about this shepherd, Saul?"

  "No word on that. The Lord's pleased with you this far, however, so I'm positive you'll make the right decision."

  Saraquael's eyes danced with glitter, but Gabriel realized right now Saraquael was trying to read his mood and come up with something to say—the same way Michael had at the campfire. Trying to read him. Trying to solve the unsolvable. Saraquael breathed over the fire pit, and the fire returned to life.

  Gabriel got up and paced, not turning to see if Saraquael would follow. "You don't have to stay with me, you know." He used his normal voice. "I'm not completely incompetent."

  Gabriel felt Saraquael turn his attention to God.

  Saraquael could—could just—

  Gabriel spun in time to catch the residual brightness in Saraquael's eyes.

  Saraquael looked inspired. "Why not keep a journal?"

  Gabriel reeled from the reflected glory. "What?"

  "To write all your thoughts about the time you spend here."

  Gabriel stepped back. "Why?"

  "You don't have to." Saraquael shrugged. "I thought it'd be worth suggesting, and God said you might want to try it."

  "That I should keep my waking thoughts cataloged for posterity's sake? I suppose that will facilitate Satan's attacks, when he does his nightly reading."

  "Satan won't ever get access to it, and it wouldn't serve posterity so much as you, for you to get your thoughts together. Don't get upset. It's not an order."

  Gabriel paused. "I'm not upset."

  "You look upset," Saraquael said. "I told God that if I were in your place I would turn out flurries of bad poetry, but you don't have the same sort of outlet. God said I could tell you. Keeping a journal wouldn't be a bad use of time. You write what you're feeling. Or thinking."

  Gabriel's lips tightened.

  "I could get you all the parchment and ink you want," Saraquael said, "and I'll give you a quill. I have six wings full of them."

  Gabriel shifted his weight. "Everyone in Judah won't wonder what I'm doing?"

  "No one has to know."

  Gabriel forced a smile, and although he realized it didn't reach his eyes, he hadn't been in this body long enough to know which muscles to force to fake a whole smile. "Thank you. It's a kind gesture, but it's not right for me."

  Just then Rebekah awoke, and Saraquael vanished.

  "Will you let me ride on the donkey again?" she begged.

  "You get up in a cheerful mood," Gabriel said.

  "Uh-huh! Can I?"

  "We'll see."

  "No—say yes!"

  Those tremendous eyes implored, like an angel's, and Gabriel responded without words, his eyes saying, I'd like you to ride, but your father might disapprove.

  Her face melted in sorrow.

  Gabriel's eyebrows arched into a resolution to try his best.

  The girl nodded and went to wake her mother.

  Only later, while walking the donkey on which rode both Rebekah and Joseph, did Gabriel realize that he had communicated with a child in the manner of angels.

  - + -

  My first entry:

  When God asks nicely, you do it. I don't know what good a journal brings anyone, least of all myself, because it's humiliating. God already knows every word I would write and the words I refrain from writing, but Saraquael swears by this strange habit of making fleeting thoughts permanent.

  I write on a sheet of parchment, after dark. I'll be able to join the sheets together and roll them into a scroll if I go through more than one page. I'm stretched out on my stomach with the fire before me so I can see the parchment and the individual words, and I've solved the problem of spying-eyes by writing in my native language. If any human tries to read over my shoulder, he'll be confused, to say the least.

  Apparently if necessary, Saraquael will take away my written pages and replace them with unwritten ones. Isn't that a lovely thought? It's like filling a ceremonial vat with a spoon, and he thinks I may do it more than once.

  Shouldn't we reserve writing for meditations and observations? But instead I'm watching a scrap of parchment and feeling my face get red because the fire is too hot—but if it weren't that then I would feel too cold, and I don't want to shiver tonight. What I do want is sleep. No one prepared me for that. It's easy to believe the human form bursts with energy if you've never spent more than twenty-four hours wearing it at one time. How convenient that Raguel says, "You must feel very strong," when all he's done is use it for a total of thirty hours in eternity. I find it ironic that those farthest removed from the experience are most able to see the good points.

  So what am I supposed to write? Saraquael wasn't a tremendous help about that, other than acquiring the above-mentioned materials, and yes, he did search his wings for just the right feather. He's been generous. But he didn't tell me what to put on the parchment with the quill once I had it.

  I'll continue tomorrow.

  Tishri 14

  When they reached Lebonah, Joachim brought him to the shepherd Saul ben Zadok.

  A hard man with a predator's stare, Saul examined Gabriel for quite some time.

  "You got hurt as a child," he said.

  "Pardon me?" asked Gabriel.

  "You move awkward. It's your hips, right?"

  "Well, I fell, somewhat." Gabriel's cheeks grew hot. "I didn't think it worth mentioning."

  Saul ran sun-dried fingers through his grey-wired beard. "Can you walk long distances? Are you able to run fast? Can you deal with animals?"

  Gabriel made sure to stand straighter. "I made the trip from Jerusalem with Joachim and his family."

  Saul still looked him over, eyeing the plain fabric of Gabriel's tunic and top coat, seeing the newness of his sandals. "He said you were good with the animals."

  Gabriel watched Saul with calmness, but a calm of such intensity that Saul paused to study him.

  "You're different."

  Not different enough, Gabriel said with his eyes, but Saul didn't read that.

  "You say your name is Gabriel? Welcome to my employ. Allow me to show you the place."

  Shepherd

  Kislev 2

  Shepherding worked well for him, no question. Lots of time alone with the night, only a few others to work with, and common meals. Plus, Gabriel could make use of these over-ratcheted senses to warn about weather, about wolves, and about problems with the sheep.

  "The wind's going to pick up," said Zachary, one of the shepherds.

  Gabriel looked at the sky, shaking his head. "The worst is past."

  "You're never wrong about that," said Jacob, the third shepherd, "but it just feels off."

  Gabriel said, "In the Law it says—"

  Zachary said, "Enough of the Law. We'll see what the wind does and whether the wind cares about the Law or the prophets."

  Jacob snickered. "We could always preach to the sheep."

  Gabriel bristled, but this had been going on for a while, trying to educate men who didn't recognize an education when they heard it.

  The sun set as the flock settled down. The shepherds called back the stragglers and made sure all were accounted for. Gabriel said, "Who's taking first watch?"

  A wolf howled.

  All three shepherds tensed, and then another howl came from the other side of the field.

  Gabriel picked up his staff. "Zachary, Jacob, get to the other side, and—"

  Zachary raced away from the sheep, tearing off into the darkness. Gabriel turned to Jacob. "Your staff," he said. "Get it. Now."

  The shepherd hesitated, picked up the staff, and then bolted when a third howl sounded.

  The sheep had begun panicking, and Gabriel called them, then stretched out with his heart and impos
ed calm. He had to keep them together. They might lose one. He might get attacked. But he couldn't leave them undefended.

  Another howl. He sent his senses into the woods to find the wolf minds and convince them not to strike. There was something…not wind, but as Zachary had said, something off. Something storm-like that wasn't a storm.

  Gabriel called the sheep again, walking around them, touching their faces and saying their names. He paced and reached to touch the minds in the woods, and what he found left him shivering.

  Gabriel crouched before one of the sheep and hoped his voice sounded steady. "You might as well come out now."

  Only a moment passed, but then a shadow separated from the dark woods, drifted toward him, and seated itself on a rock. "I had wondered how to confirm your identity," it said, sounding amused, "and here you've saved me the trouble."

  Satan. Here. Talking to him.

  Gabriel's human heart pounded, and he shivered despite the tinge of Seraphic fire cracking in the air like the campfire's sparks.

  "Don't be afraid," said the voice. "We were friends once, and now we can be again."

  "Allow yourself to stand corrected."

  "Still a Cherub."

  "Entirely a Cherub."

  The silence continued for long enough that Gabriel decided to walk away from the sheep. His adversary perched a stone's throw away, and if he struck, at least the sheep should be safe.

  "So confirm its truth, the rumor I hear," Satan said, turning to watch him walk, "that God sliced you away from Heaven's mantle forever?"

  Gabriel made his voice smoother than honey. "Where did you hear that?" He consciously stopped his fingers from clutching at his tunic.

  "Everyone buzzed about your apostasy for weeks." Satan shrugged. "Some said you destroyed all of Gaul when you fell, so I was disappointed only to find a trench in the earth and the top knocked off a mountain."

  It was so cold tonight. "At least I destroyed only a mountain top. You managed to take down the Earth."

  "Well, I am a much greater spirit than you, as you certainly know, Cherub, although I doubt you're so weak that you can't take out more than a hill." Satan leaned forward. "From that I have to assume you weren’t thrown out of heaven so much as you fled. Am I correct?"

  Gabriel's so clearly forced smile did little to relax the rest of him. "You're flattering me."

  Perching on the rock with his knees up against his chest and his twelve wings pulled in, Satan seemed a vulture in the night. "The truth isn't flattery. You're the closest in power to me, so I fully expected to find a chunk of the earth obliterated, not just a stand of tall grass and some extremely happy rabbits." He grinned, and starlight glittered in his platinum hair. "To be honest, Gabriel, I'm thrilled to be having this conversation at all. Tell me, how did it happen?"

  The Cherub averted his eyes.

  "Come on and answer. You always proclaimed that nothing true is not worth talking about, and when you live with us, we're going to cherish all the particulars."

  "I won't live with you in Hell." Gabriel kept his eyes narrow, his tone even.

  "Not now, perhaps, but we both know this dismal Earth wearies the spirit. You'll get bored and come with me sooner or later."

  Some of the sheep had begin wandering. Gabriel looked up, but before he could do anything, Satan called them back. After a hesitation, they returned. Satan said, "This job is hardly a challenge. You just need to convince them to stay all in one place, and then it never occurs to them to leave. It's something like what He does." He turned back to Gabriel. "You're leaving me curious, and I can't stand that. What made you change your mind about Him?"

  Gabriel glanced into the woods. He shouldn't look away from an enemy that close, not when he couldn't feel his every movement, but he didn't want Satan reading him either.

  "We all have to realize something sometime, and it's easier if you do it sooner rather than later," Satan said. "You have no hope."

  Gabriel looked back, glowering.

  Satan leaned forward, and for a moment Gabriel caught the icy green of his eyes. "Trust me, because I've seen this before in every possible iteration. The ones who suffer the most are the ones who don't accept where they are."

  Gabriel met those eyes levelly. "You don't know where I am."

  "I don't need to have witnessed a suicide in order to recognize a corpse." Satan frowned. "Give me that much credit."

  "It's not like that."

  "You're smart, but you're avoiding the evidence. Reality itself leads me to only one conclusion."

  Gabriel tightened his overtunic around his shoulders.

  Satan sighed. "I wish you believed me."

  "You wish that of everybody."

  "Yes." A momentary honesty: Gabriel looked down to hide his compulsive grin. Satan continued, "But you're freezing, and there's no need to continue this conversation in the cold. Please accept my hospitality for an evening."

  "I have a job to do."

  "I can dispatch some of my fellows to oversee your duties until you return." Satan opened his hands. "Asmodeus would do it. He begged to be the one to approach you. On his knees, hands clasped, promised me anything I wanted. I refused him. Do you know why?" Hunger transformed Satan's face. "You're a Cherub in need of a Seraph to bond to. He wants you. I want you more."

  Gabriel shuddered.

  "Give yourself time," Satan said. "I know your kind, and you'll get crazy without that fire to invigorate you. When it gets bad enough that you start shaking, call. Either of us will be able to meet the need."

  Gabriel battled nausea. "No, thank you."

  "That's two of us you've disappointed in one night." Satan stood. "But my offer stands: whenever you choose to leave, you've got a place with us. Just one visit. It's not as if I'm asking you to decide immediately about being my co-regent." He allowed that to hang in the air. "I'll visit again tomorrow."

  For a long time after the figure departed, Gabriel couldn't disperse the tension. Ridiculous stress hormones, lingering long after the danger had passed. Although he couldn't tell for sure. Even afterward, when he longed to slump backward and close his eyes, he did neither for fear that demon minions watched invisibly.

  He wanted to call for Michael but didn't. He finally stood to walk among the sheep, and he knew tonight he'd have to stand every watch.

  - + -

  I have to write now. I'm holding God to His promise on this. He guaranteed no one would ever read what I’m writing, and that's what I want. No one, friend or enemy. I'm not even happy with Him reading it, but whom is that truly an indictment of?

  What was I thinking? Why didn't I call for Michael? The instant Satan showed up, I should have told him to leave and then called Michael and had him make Satan leave. But—

  He thinks I fell! He thinks I rebelled, or at least he's trying to make sure that's what I did. He called me a corpse. He's telling me just to accept where I am because he's seen it before. Is he trying to be helpful? Why did I listen to him?

  It's too cold to think tonight. I'm not in my right mind. I was scared and the others had just deserted, and I didn't make good decisions. I want Raphael here to bounce this off of. Raphael would have fought him for me. I'd have asked Raphael to do it. I think I would have.

  But Satan's found me, and now he'll keep finding me. They're going to have a constant vigil around me, and Satan's not going to care one whit about having them take shifts. He may take all the shifts and stay himself. I've got a guardian angel right now, only it's a dark one.

  No, stop, be logical. So he's watching. What is he going to see? He can't read my mind. Yes, it's galling that everyone's chattering about me, but I knew that would happen. Guardian angels are constantly comparing notes, and naturally they don't care if a demon or two overhears. Yes, he called me a corpse, but he's a Seraph and they're prone to exaggeration. Plus, he has a lot to gain if he brings me to his side. He'd like nothing better. That much at least he was honest about. I think he meant the co-regent thing, too. I coul
d tell he was genuinely baffled and all but vibrating inside to be sitting there talking to me like this, in this state.

  Plus, now that I think about it, he was asking questions in an attempt to get me to specify exactly what's happened, what the timetable is, whether I think I can return, and what my crime was in the first place. I've just got to keep myself from talking to him, and I managed to do that tonight, somewhat. At least about important matters.

  So even though he's found me, what's the worst that can happen? If he kills this body, I'll wake up in Heaven. Some worst-case-scenario that would be: being forced into Heaven. Or being forced to find another job.

  All the same, I wish he hadn't found me. I wish he hadn't been sitting up there like an older brother trying to usher me through a difficult rite of passage.

  Kislev 3

  "Good evening!" Satan's voice came the next night—almost at sunrise.

  "That's debatable." Gabriel squinted at him. A steady drizzle had pattered over the field all night, so he stood near the fire simultaneously trying to keep it going and keep his blood from freezing like slush. The other two shepherds had returned, abashed, but neither had offered to take an extra watch just because they'd abandoned Gabriel the night before. "I believe it's closer to 'good morning'."

  "Please forgive me. Circumstances detained me."

  The sheep had settled down to sleep off the rest of the night, not caring so much about the rain. In the tent, Zachary snored while Jacob mumbled a dream conversation.

  Satan said, "They say you use your real name."

  "Why not, Satan?"

  Satan's eyes glittered. "That's so funny! I always thought you needed to develop a sense of humor."

  Gabriel sighed.

  "Yes, of course." Satan folded his arms. "Raphael would protest that you do in fact have a sense of humor." He tilted his head. "Speaking of Raphael, how is he these days? I'm surprised he isn't helping."

  Gabriel made sure not to react. "He's doing fine where he is."

  "He's not exactly loyal if he's not here," Satan said.

  "I never asked for his loyalty."