But he said to fight, said Brian, brow creasing. I suck at fighting, and he’s got to know that.
So what are you good at? prompted Barrett, rubbing his chin and thinking. What are our strengths and weaknesses? I can throw a few punches if I have to, but I’m no fighter either. Obviously nothing like Mike, and even his training isn’t accomplishing anything, he said, nodding at his middle brother.
What you did before, that really helped, said Brian. Your... pushing thing. But I’m more of a healer, and that’s not really helpful in a fight.
It is when somebody’s getting hurt, put in Mike. But this isn’t that kind of fight. And I think...
He was cut off rudely when his body was suddenly yanked toward the archangel by an unseen force. Apparently the break in the action was over, Michael pinning the smaller angel’s arms and wings behind him easily. He squirmed and tried to get a counter hold to work, but he was as helpless as a butterfly caught by the wings between the fingers of a child.
Barrett tried to push commands to release him at Michael, but they bounced off without any effect. Brian wracked his brain, trying to think of how he could help, growing more and more frantic with each passing second. His mind raced, grasping at anything he could think of, reaching into old memories, their new level of power, himself...
Suddenly the shifting, seemingly random images stopped on the stained glass windows of his studio, now ruined. He knew what he had to do, the sense of frustration and need to keep his beloved brother safe making him instinctively reach deep inside and pull. Brian reached up and drew his arm back, and when he brought it forward again, he held a flaming sword. White-blue fire danced along the thin metal edge, pale and delicate yet strong and deadly, with elegant scrollwork etching the flat of the blade.
Let him go, he said unflinchingly, his own hazel eyes meeting the brown ones of the archangel. His hand could have been more steady as he pointed the tip of the blade at Michael’s throat, but the intent was plain – he meant business and wasn’t afraid to take on one of the greatest angels in heaven to protect his brother.
Michael looked back in mild surprise, a smile curving the corners of his mouth. Well done. I will release him.
Suddenly Mike was hurtling toward his younger brother, and the sword. Before he could move his hand or send the blade back from wherever it had come, Brian watched with the slow motion horror of things happening too fast as his brother was impaled on it.
MIKE!!
The sword disappeared and he was left cradling his older brother, who was doubled up and squirming with pain, his face red. A string of mental expletives bubbled out of him as Barrett came over to help, pale with alarm. All of them felt the pain due to their connection, but it wasn’t as debilitating to Brian and Barrett.
Hold him, said Brian, trying to push his middle brother’s hands out of the way so he could see what he was doing. There was blood, but less than he expected, and with Barrett keeping Mike partially immobile, the youngest Mason focused on what he had to do. Light radiated from his hands and he brought up the now-familiar healing energy, the skill honed from the dozen or so times they’d gone off on rescue efforts. Mike stopped clutching at the injury almost instantly, then calmed as the pain evaporated, his own healing power doubling his brother’s efforts.
I could have... started Mike, but Brian shook his head.
It was my fault, and I had to help ease your pain as fast as I could. And it wasn’t a normal injury. I didn’t know if you could heal it.
Mike nodded a little. It had been surprisingly painful, a combination of metal grating against bone clumsily and the searing hot white-blue flame.
Not normal because of the weapon or...? Barrett looked between them, unsure what had just happened.
Some kind of flaming spirit sword pulled out of thin air on willpower alone, wielded by an angel... I’d say that’s not a normal injury, said Brian with a sigh. They all looked to Michael, who nodded.
Lesson learned, the archangel said, once again waiting for them to recover. Be careful how you use that.
Barrett sized him up, carefully guarding his thoughts. He was beginning to become more conscious of the little foreign touch on his mind, and wasn’t even sure when he’d become aware of the implications, but now that he recognized it, he was able to start countering it. Michael’s eyes met his, and an understanding passed between them, each giving the other a tiny nod.
The eldest brother was now thinking of how to play to his strengths, since up to this point, the most he’d been able to accomplish was talking Brian out of throttling himself. He was a planner, a leader and, under the right circumstances, could be a tactician that colored outside the lines. Now was the time to test himself.
He crossed his arms confidently and the scenery changed all around them, looking more like the cave where they’d met Charon. Michael seemed genuinely surprised, the other Masons caught off guard and off balance as they had suddenly gone from floating to standing on a stony floor.
“I like a more even playing field,” said Barrett, then with a few quick motions of his hands, Michael’s golden armor vanished, leaving him in his crimson and white robes alone. The archangel looked at him with a mixture of astonishment and admiration at the clever move, and did not try to recover his armor, curious what this new angel was up to. What he did do, however, was counterattack.
With both hands palm down, Michael gestured toward Barrett’s brothers and thrust them to the ground hard, pinning them on their backs without touching them. They squirmed and cried out and fought, but the invisible hold could not be broken. Barrett tried to counter with his own mind, but soon realized that he was no match against the level of power and experience that the archangel held. He knew he had to think radically sideways.
His mind raced. The calm, smirking face of Michael said that he could pin them there not just all day, but for all eternity. Or until Barrett came up with something. Whichever came first. The eldest Mason paced around, circling his brothers, trying to think of something to try. Pushing hadn’t worked. Taking away the armor had, but that was due to surprise. Brian’s blade had come out of desperation, and that seemed to make the great angel pleased with his creativity.
Barrett’s frustration grew, as did the sense that he had to do something to protect his brothers. This smirking creature was going to toy with them forever until they showed him that they could tap into the new power that they’d been given.
“Well?” called Michael, his voice strangely thick and powerful now that it was in the physical air and not just in their heads. A hint of contempt hung there. “Are you going to do something, or just scuffle around like a stray dog?”
That was it.
Something tripped in Barrett’s mind, and it seemed to run off without him. Loyalty and ferocity swelled inside him, the hair on his neck standing up, eyes sharp and suddenly bright emerald green. He reached into the golden light he knew was inside his soul and pulled from it.
He lunged at the archangel, the transformation nearly instantaneous as he leapt, bowling Michael over as a huge gray hound, eerie green flames licking from his spine. Teeth bared, and standing atop the now-horizontal angel’s chest, he looked him in the eyes with such intensity that even Michael was frozen with uncertainty for a moment. His huge gray-black wings were sprawled underneath him, and he could see that it would only take one snap of the powerful jaws of this new hellhound to break his neck. Not that it would kill him, but the raw power breathing hotly in his face was unnerving.
“All right, brother,” said Michael soothingly. “You have proven yourself.”
Barrett stepped back slowly, keeping his eyes locked onto Michael’s, then calmed. He relaxed and shifted back to his usual angelic self, his brothers suddenly there to catch him, although they seemed almost reluctant to get too close. He smiled weakly.
“So... there’s that,” he said with a soft chuckle, relieved to see that his clothes had returned along with his usual shape. “I hope you guys know tha
t I’d never hurt you.”
Brian smiled softly back. “We know.” Mike nodded mutely, mind reeling, wondering if the test was finally over. He was starting to tire, and wanted nothing more than to just go home and have some tea.
“No,” said Michael, getting back up and looking straight at him. “You’re not done.”
“Not...” he started to say, exasperated, but then just sighed and went to shrug off the backpack. The backpack, however, was gone. “Hey,” he said, moving a wing and trying to see behind himself. “You guys, what happened to the pack...?”
His brothers blinked at him, and looked at his back. Sure enough, it was missing, and although they hadn’t wanted anything since they’d arrived there, the thought that their stuff was gone suddenly made them want sodas and snacks, like a hiker who realizes halfway down the trail that he or she has forgotten to bring drinking water and is instantly thirsty as a result.
“Wait... wait a second,” said Barrett, holding up a hand and concentrating. He reached out with his mind and pulled at a familiar-feeling object, the pack appearing in his hands. Then he looked up at Michael and returned the great angel’s golden armor with a little smirky smile and half a wink. Michael chuckled a little and adjusted the breastplate.
“So where was it?” Brian asked, looking through the pack to be sure everything was still there.
“Not sure,” Barrett replied. “I was looking for the bag, not where it was.”
Mike was fidgeting, clearly less than thrilled with the idea of yet more fighting and boundary-pushing, paying little attention to the return of the backpack. But, true to his training, he was ready for whatever was thrown his way and could go until he dropped if he had to. Michael recognized his state and had mercy on him for a number of reasons, not the least of which was respect for a fellow warrior.
“You have been through much today, so I will tell you something to make the last test easier,” the archangel said. “You three are uniquely connected, this you know. Three parts of a whole, drawn together. This is because you have sprung from one unique, ancient being. This being was on par with myself, and perhaps even more powerful on occasion.”
The Mason brothers blinked at him and this literally stunning news. But before any of them could speak up, Michael continued.
“Once there was a battle with three fronts. Three armies were coming together, and he saw that the only way to be in these three places at the same time was to separate himself into three lesser angels. This act sacrificed himself, but gave rise to you brothers.”
They looked at each other, the gooseflesh rising on their arms and feathers standing on end. There was a family resemblance, certainly – they all had hazel eyes, and brown hair, and a handsome face with a strong jaw, and were all within a few inches of each other in height – but the same person?
“But wouldn’t that make us triplets?” ventured Brian softly. “Shouldn’t we be identical?”
“No,” Michael answered. “Three unique angels were needed, each with his own qualities, drawing from the original source. But some things remain the same as his original form. Your transformation showed that to me, Barrett,” he said, nodding in the eldest brother’s direction. He turned to Mike, his gaze making the hair on the back of the SEAL’s neck stand up.
“What do you need me to do?” asked Mike quietly. He had the distinct sense that something was about to happen, even more drastic and strange than his big brother turning into a hellhound with green flames along his spine.
“Reach inside and see what you find.”
Michael motioned for him to have a seat, and the middle Mason sat on the cold stone floor, closing his eyes. He looked into the light inside himself, so similar to the upper reaches of heaven, golden and alive and almost sentient on its own. A tiny spark of the Source inside each of them. He reached, but had no idea what he was looking for. He could see that a sword was waiting for him there as well, a large broadsword, almost two-handed, with a gold hilt and pommel mounted with a huge garnet, red as a ripe pomegranate seed, red flames at the blade.
Deeper he went, searching, almost feeling as though he were flying into another golden place inside himself which seemed to grow larger around him as he did. An emotion met him there, something primal and more simple somehow, yet fiercely loyal and deadly. The more he explored it, the more his physical body on the outside started to change, a stripe of fuzz appearing at his spine, his teeth sharpening, not that he was aware of it. He recognized it as the same thing that his brother had tapped into a few minutes previous... or a few hours... or years, perhaps. He was no longer sure.
But this wasn’t what he was looking for, he somehow knew. Something else was there, just beyond his reach. Something bigger and more powerful than the best military tank, more beautiful and strong than the most perfect diamond ever found. He paused, partly unable to believe that such a thing could ever be within himself, and partly because he was beginning to get a sense of what it was, and he was having trouble wrapping his mind around it.
But this was what he’d been looking for. What Michael had wanted him to find. Mike reached just a little more and touched it, connecting to the very thing he feared most. Except that he’d misunderstood what it had meant before, and now that he knew, he embraced it with a sense of awe and wonder.
His body began to shift, his brothers moving away to give him more space at the archangel’s urging. The cavern suddenly seemed far too small as he grew, feathered wings giving way to flesh and jewels, fingers to claws, teeth to wicked fangs inside powerful jaws. He could feel every inch of himself becoming different, yet still himself, his mind keenly the same, yet feeling more ancient at the same time. He felt very old, very large and very deadly.
Slowly the dragon opened his huge golden eyes and spread his massive flame-red wings, gaze locking confidently onto the now-tiny angels twenty feet below. Vapor rose from his nostrils with each breath, the fire inside illuminating him much like the angelic glow had, everywhere at once but sharper somehow in this form. His brothers looked terrified, the only thing keeping them from bolting the mental connection they still shared. He reassured them through it, and they seemed to calm a little, but still remained motionless.
I assume this is what you meant, he said to Michael, who looked quite pleased.
Yes, brother, he said, actually breaking into a smile.
You have this inside too, Mike sent to his brothers, Barrett nodding just a little. It’s deep, though.
“What’s... what does it feel like...?” asked Brian, voice barely above a whisper.
Amazing.
There was a softening in his eyes, almost something of a smile there, and he carefully lowered himself until he was laying on the floor, head down. His brothers slowly approached, and he remained still so as not to frighten them any more than they already were. Their soft, tiny, pink hands touched his scales and claws and snout, the heat and vapor from his nostrils having no effect on them, although he had the distinct impression that the slightest breath would instantly cook whatever else that would have the misfortune to get in the way of it.
Their gentle touches, combined with his increasing fatigue, made his eyelids feel heavier, and he could have dozed for a hundred years right there on the spot, time having little meaning any longer to any of them. But Michael strode forward and touched his shoulder.
“There is more, but this is enough for now. More than enough. Come back to yourself and we will move on.”
Nodding gently in understanding, the great red dragon closed his eyes and focused on trying to get the genie back in the bottle. He felt himself slipping backwards inside, back out of somewhere he didn’t know he’d been, and leaving the draconic side of himself behind until needed. Muscles and bones and tendons realigned with an eerie sliding and pressing that felt almost like a massage – not unpleasant at all. He supposed he would get used to that sensation at some point, much as he’d gotten used to having wings.
Then his brothers’ arms were a
round him and holding him close, even before he opened his hazel eyes again. He looked down at himself with a tired grin, pleased to see that his clothes hadn’t been destroyed or lost, and feeling like he’d just discovered he was the long lost heir to a huge fortune. Adrenaline alone was holding him up now, so Michael took them back to the upper reaches of heaven where they could float and rest.
They were above the level filled with busy angels again, with Michael leading them to another private area like the sparring place they’d been. But here they were not alone, as a great angel in sky blue robes with pearl white wings reclined. A low circular table was surrounded by comfortable cushions and pillows, and Michael motioned for the brothers to join the other archangel.
I am Raphael. Welcome, the gentle new voice said. Please do sit with me. Have some tea.
Brian’s eyes widened as a large pot of tea appeared on the table, along with several Japanese-style teacups without handles. He slid into the cushions, his brothers following and sinking into the softness. Mike looked like he was going to fall asleep right then and there.
Michael smiled a little, amusement in his eyes, and flew off without another word, Raphael sighing at him.
Forgive our brother’s rudeness. He can get... both distracted and focused at the same time, said the archangel with a wave of his hand. He usually has his eye on at least a dozen things. Cream?
Wh... yes, please, said Barrett, pouring himself some tea and then taking the proffered cream. The entire day seemed more like a week, and his head was still spinning from everything that had happened since they’d gotten up that morning. This was exactly what they needed – a nice quiet pot of tea and some rest.
The calming effect of the golden light surrounding them, combined with the soft cushions, light music in the background, and the simple comfort of a quiet pot of tea helped to quell their chaotic thoughts. For a long time they all sat in silence, sipping the best tea they’d ever had, in the presence of the great healer Raphael. Barrett had noticed and filed away the fact that these archangels kept calling them “brothers.” He began to wonder if it was a general term of endearment, or meant something more.
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