by Lori Adams
Michael smiled warmly. “Thank you, Dimitri. I was always happy to work with you.” He glanced at Katarina and caught her staring absently out the window. She had that look again, the one that meant she was keeping secrets. “Both of you,” Michael added after a moment’s hesitation.
Katarina snapped out of her thoughts and smiled. “We should wait for Gabe, shouldn’t we? And maybe have a celebratory lunch before you go?” She sounded a bit too cheerful.
Milvi went to Michael and wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head on his chest.
“I’m gonna miss you, Michael,” she mumbled. Her heavy sadness almost made him laugh.
“I’m only moving to the barn, Mil. Not into the next realm.”
“Still. You’ll miss game nights. You’ll be gone all the time. I’ll miss you at school. In case you hadn’t noticed, I like being your cousin. I was really happy when I was selected to be a part of this family.” She leaned back as a thought struck her. “Hey, you’re gonna be around when I receive my first call, right? I’m almost ready, you know?”
“I’ll be around. And I wanna hear all about your first call.” Michael glanced down the hallway. “Where is Gabe anyway?”
“Out getting answers for you,” Raph said in a clipped tone. They locked eyes as Gabe walked through the front door.
“I’m here,” he said and then stopped to assess the situation. Milvi was radiating sadness, and Raph was more irritated than usual. “What’s going on?”
Uriel explained things while Gabe veered toward an empty chair and heaved his heavy backpack into it. He huffed, exasperated. “Well, why couldn’t someone inform me? I’ve been out researching answers all day. This is just a theory, here, but am I the only one who’s been doing what Michael asked?”
“No,” Milvi said with an attitude. “I’ve talked to Kanati and Chang`e about Sophia’s glowing weapons.”
“And?” Michael asked.
“Oh, they’re basically clueless. Never seen it before.” She plopped down on the sofa and swiped the carton of ice cream from Raph, who gave it up without resistance. All his attention was on Michael.
“Nobody knows what happened to Dante and Vaughn Raider after the dance,” Raph said, although he sounded bitter having to admit that he’d done as Michael wanted. “No word on why Wolfgang showed up either.”
“I’m looking into that,” Dimitri said. He settled into an overstuffed chair and crossed his legs. “I’ve asked around but so far, no messengers for The Council recall hearing about a death contract in the area.” He shook his head, baffled by it.
It was time Michael explained what he’d learned at the Borderlands. As far as he knew, there was no restriction for sharing official Intel.
“We learned through interrogating a lesser demon at the Borderlands that Dante and Vaughn have returned to Hell.”
“Without Taking a soul?” Raph demanded, sitting forward. “They show up here without a death contract, attend a few days of school, crash the dance, and then just disappear?” He shook his head in disbelief. Something wasn’t right.
“You notice anyone missing?” Michael challenged. He was getting tired of the constant conflict in Raph’s tone. “No. And neither have I. But I will tell you this: Sophia learned that Lord Brutus sent a spy here to stop her Awakening. Or turn her dark, or kill her if that failed. She doesn’t know who the demon spy is. It’s probably inhabiting someone in town, possibly one of her friends. It’s been sending Intel down to Hell. About her. And she believes Wolfgang was sent here to kill her.” He gave each of them a hard look. “I want you all to think back to anyone who’s behaved out of the ordinary. Anyone who might have a demon hiding inside them.”
Each bewildered face was met with the same; no one had a clue, and the news of a demon spy in town stopped them cold. Several minutes passed, each individual caught up in their own analysis of recent encounters. Then Michael turned to Gabe.
“You uncover anything?”
Gabe lifted his eyes and took a moment to pull his thoughts together. “No, actually. And it’s been rather frustrating. I can’t locate the source of Sophia’s power beyond herself. Technically, she shouldn’t have any more power than the average spirit walker. And there is no precedent for your shared heartbeats. I am making arrangements to gain an audience before a Light-Maiden. Hopefully, she’ll have some insight.”
Michael thought it was an excellent idea. A bit drastic and far-reaching but a perfect source for answers. If Gabe could gain an audience. Few in number and extremely rare, Light-Maidens were a conduit through which the Holy Son worked. They were the source of the Spark of Light gifted to every human soul. If anyone would know the cause of Michael and Sophia’s unique connection, it might be a Light-Maiden.
“How in the world are you gonna pull that off?” Raph demanded. He pushed to his feet and spoke to Gabe as though he was speaking to a lunatic. “Light-Maidens are the most elusive, most coveted, most private spiritual beings in any realm. Nobody talks to them. Most angels have never even seen one, including you. Hell, you’re more likely to see an archangel strolling around town than a Light-Maiden.” He was so full of sarcasm that Michael shoved him out of Gabe’s face.
“Hey, it’s an idea,” Michael snapped. “Which is more that you’ve got. Right? Or am I getting another call from the Halo Masters on your behalf? That’s all you’ve done, isn’t it. Put shit in their heads about me and Sophia?”
“What about you and Sophia?” Raph charged. “Tell us. We’re all dying to hear.”
Michael ground his teeth. By God, he was tempted to lay it all out. Tell them everything. But he’d promised Sophia he wouldn’t, not until they were married and no one could stop them. Which he was deciding was an excellent idea.
“I think we’re all wasting our time here,” Katarina said, stepping between them to keep the peace. “Sophia is a spirit walker now. Just as she should be. You are a Halo, Michael. And well on your way, by the sound of things. Why can’t you let this go?”
Michael stepped back, his hands up in surrender. “Okay, maybe I will. If you ask Celeste about Sophia. She’s your friend, right? Ask her why her daughter should have so much power. Ask her why the Halo Masters thought she’d asked me to guard Sophia.” It was a challenge that Katarina showed no sign of accepting. Michael scoffed. “You don’t really know Celeste, do you?”
“Of course I do!” she said with surprising arrogance. She bristled and then stalked back to the kitchen mumbling, “I’ve known Celeste longer than—” She cut herself off and made a hard noise in her throat. It was the first time that anyone had seen Katarina so aggravated that she couldn’t finish a sentence.
—
Michael walked across the meadow and inside the barn with hard, deliberate strides. He was too preoccupied with Katarina’s odd behavior to take pleasure in the serene atmosphere, the calming waters in the brook. Usually the soothing ambiance worked to ease his mood. Now he felt twisted inside. He debated taking Katarina’s advice and stop searching for answers about Sophia, or to follow his instincts. He loved Sophia so much that he couldn’t bear the idea that something might be wrong with her. He worried that too much power might cause her to burn out, her calling cut short by some strange spiritual fluke. It made sense only if he tilted his reasoning and let common sense run out.
He had to be overreacting. He must be suffering from some human emotion that had spiraled out of control. It just wasn’t rational, and yet he couldn’t help but worry that something was seriously wrong.
With that thought, Michael took the back stairs two at a time and then stopped abruptly just inside the doorway of the private chambers. It was a vast, open space with creamy walls that had been retracted during the day and allowed a sweeping view of the living room, dining room, library, and rich green countryside beyond the back balcony. From where he stood in the foyer, Michael could see for miles into the meadow. When the walls were slid back into place, the chambers took on a homey feel with individual rooms.
They were furnished with soft, comfortable furniture upholstered in earth tones with rounded edges of warm honey-colored wood. This nicely complemented the unique glass floor, under which shone thousands of smooth stones, rounded by the oceans’ currents. Pale greens, grays, blues, yellows, and pinks created a winding path through each room. Along the edge of the stony pathway were darker stones of bright blues and shimmering blacks that gave the impression of walking through a tranquil pond.
Michael hadn’t been up here in months but felt things had been made ready for him. The walls should not have been opened. He was certain no one but Master Sachiel knew he was coming, and yet he wasn’t alone.
He dropped his duffel bag and moved toward the kitchen. The main wall couldn’t be retracted, and he felt a presence on the opposite side. As he made his way closer, an elderly man stepped from behind the wall, startling both of them.
“Oh!” the man gasped, clutching a mixing bowl and wooden spoon in his hands. He wasn’t a handsome man but he had a kindly face with bright gray eyes and long lines that used to be dimples but now ran down his old cheeks. “Didn’t hear you come in, sir.” He disappeared back into the kitchen, deposited the bowl on the counter, and then returned, wiping his hands on the white apron tied around his dark suit.
Michael stared without blinking. “And you are?”
“Jarvis, sir. Sent by Master Sachiel for your seven days.” He bowed his head at the mention of the Halo Master and then looked up. “I take care of the warriors who observe their seven days. See to their needs.” He shrugged and made a face of meh. “Whatever you need, Jarvis will do.” Again with the shrug and face. It was an expression that suggested he didn’t mind his job but wasn’t sure it was necessary to keep him breathing.
Michael walked over, introduced himself, and shook hands. Jarvis said he’d already heard of Michael and his early kill.
“First day out and you snagged a filthy bastard!” the old man said with sudden vigor. Michael leaned back as Jarvis shook his fist in the air, seeming to mimic the kill.
“Yeah, something like that.” A quick glance around the kitchen told Michael that Jarvis was making an elaborate lunch. The island running down the center of the room was a glorious crosscut section of polished redwood. It was littered with various ingredients, including bananas, rainbow bunches of grapes, shiny red apples, and yellow pears that had spilled over a fruit bowl. “Listen,” Michael began, “I’m not big on lunch or anything. In fact, I probably won’t be needing you at all. I’m kind of self-sufficient. No offense.”
Jarvis did take offense. His mouth clamped shut and he clasped his hands tightly in front of him. His back stiffened as he spoke. “I am Born of the Light, same as you, sir. A servant by nature with a job to do. Same as you. I will be your butler for the duration. If you are so skilled to make future death kills, I will be here. Same as you.” He flicked his chin up and stared down his nose at Michael.
“You’re a stubborn old man, aren’t you?” Michael teased. Jarvis shrugged his meh face. “I appreciate your calling, Jar, but I still don’t do lunch.” He grabbed an apple on the way out. When he’d rounded the corner, he turned back as an idea occurred to him. “You been around awhile, right?” Jarvis smirked. Michael chuckled. “Yeah, so, you’ve heard of a messenger named Caleb?”
Jarvis had a droll expression as he began cleaning up the mess. “You mean Caleb the ex-messenger? Caleb the Disavowed? That Caleb? We’ve all heard of him.”
“Well, I’ll be needing to meet with him. Can you find him? Bring him here?”
Jarvis looked aghast. “You can’t mean that! He’s been excommunicated. As in, no more communication with us. Why would a Halo warrior make time for a disgraced one?”
“That’s my business. If you’re here to serve me, that’s what I need. Immediately.” Michael waited while Jarvis considered. “Please?” he added with an affectionate smile.
Jarvis huffed a noise of disapproval. Making a show of things, he ripped off his apron and slammed it onto the counter. It didn’t have the same impact without the noise of a slamming pot or pan, so he knocked over the mixing bowl.
“Fine, sir! But don’t say you weren’t warned. If the Halo Masters find out—”
“They won’t,” Michael said bluntly with a threat in his tone. Jarvis stopped his fit and looked sharply at him. It was an order, a warning of secrecy that Michael was making perfectly clear without saying a word. Jarvis seemed to remember that he was there only to serve the elite forces, so he softened a bit and nodded. “I’ll be waiting,” Michael said quietly, and then left to unpack.
—
He didn’t have to wait long. Jarvis had been around a good while and knew where to find those who didn’t want to be found. Or at least he knew people who knew people who did. Within the hour, Caleb appeared on the glass flooring in Michael’s living room.
He was a disheveled, fidgety sort of guy with ragged brown hair that hadn’t seen a comb in ages. Always nervous with fear that his sins were catching up with him. A far cry from the sophisticated demeanor of Dimitri, his fellow messenger. Not only had Caleb failed at his original calling, but he was a fashion disaster as well. His clothes had peculiar horizontal wrinkles as though he’d slept upside down and everything shimmied to one end with gravity. His partially tucked-in dress shirt was missing several buttons, the hem of his pants was encrusted with bits of mud, and his dress shoes didn’t match.
“You’ll have to get yourself cleaned up,” Michael said, walking in from the bedroom. Caleb turned at the sound and pulled out a pack of smokes.
“Michael Patronus,” he mumbled around the cigarette he’d perched between his lips. Cupping his hand to a match, he lit the end and took a long, hard pull. He squinted in thought and then blew out smoke. “Been a while.”
Michael strolled around him, scrutinizing things. “You look like shit,” he said bluntly. “Worse than the last time. What was it? A year ago?”
Caleb shrugged. “Didn’t know Halos were tracking the disavowed these days. Inflation got demon business down?” Michael didn’t find him funny, so Caleb shrugged again. “Congrats, by the way.”
“I didn’t ask you here to talk about that,” Michael started, but Caleb jumped in, thinking he was being funny again.
“You didn’t ask at all. Ol’ Mount Rushmore told me I was summoned by a Halo.” Michael didn’t get the reference, so Caleb pointed his cigarette toward the kitchen. “Stone face. The guy sure hates me. Then again, most people do.” He shrugged as though he was used to the hostility of others. “So what, you found a way to get me back in?”
“What? Oh, no. Sorry if that’s what—”
“Naw, I didn’t think so.” He exhaled another cloud of smoke that annoyed Michael, and then strolled around the room. “Nice place? Yours?”
Michael blew a soft puff of air from across the room, and Caleb’s cigarette went out. “You know they’ll never let you back in, right?” Michael said, falling in step with him. They moved along the shimmering glass floor and out onto the balcony.
“Assholes,” Caleb muttered.
Michael scoffed. “You had a gambling problem, Caleb. What’d you expect?”
“Look, man, it wasn’t a problem. I mean, yeah, I dabbled a bit. To fit in like they taught us.”
“You put your family in serious financial debt. You neglected your guardians. And then one lost a soul. What’d you expect?”
Caleb tried to light up again but Michael doused it. “You gonna keep doing that?” he grumbled.
Michael said, “Yeah. It stinks. And so do you. When did you shower last?”
Caleb stuffed the cig into his pocket. “Look, Michael, I wouldn’t have lost that soul. It’s just that bitch Seer gave me some bad info. She was, you know, helping me at the tracks. But she got weird on me, gave me a few bad horses. It got messed up.”
“I know.”
“Yeah, so go ahead and judge me. They all do.”
“You know that’s not my place. I�
�ve never judged you and I didn’t bring you here to start now. I need a favor.”
Caleb’s eyebrows shot up. He stepped back and gave Michael a hard look. “What’s the world coming to when a Halo needs a favor from a disavowed?”
Michael grew uncomfortable and braced his hands on the stone balustrade. He stared out at the gentle landscape, considering, again, the consequences of his request. This was the moment. He would tell an outsider his plans. There was no going back.
Caleb followed Michael’s attention but hardly noticed the idyllic countryside. He’d grown accustomed to the gritty streets of New York and felt that the beauty before him was beyond his appreciation. He turned and looked at Michael.
“Hey, man, it’s cool. Whatever you need. I think I owe you one, right? I heard you asked Dimitri to speak to The Council on my behalf when all that shit went down. I know you wanted them to give me a second chance.” He laid a hand on Michael’s shoulder, then jerked it back, remembering he was no longer a buddy guardian but a Halo.
“Who told you?” Michael asked.
“Aw, I don’t remember. It was months after the fact. I was living on the streets by then. You hear lots of weird shit on the streets. Demons. Reapers. Disavowed. Fallen. They’re all trading rumors. Selling info. Crap you wouldn’t believe.” He fiddled with the pack of cigs in his pocket, itching to light up again. “So what’s up? What do you need? Intel? ’Cause I got connections. Probably could find the next Fallen Angel before he hits the ground.” He chuckled at the lame joke.
Michael faced him with a grave expression. The joke hit too close to home. “Caleb, I need you…to perform a wedding.” His voice was low and calm against the nerves raging inside him. His heart was hammering.