Triune

by Willow Polson

  Both, said Raphael, lowering his cup. All of our kind are brothers and sisters, all around the world. As you have guessed, different places and different cultures manifest their intermediaries in different ways.

  You mean like... in India, somebody would wake up one morning and be a deva or a genie or whatever they have there? asked Brian, drinking as he spoke.

  Just so. Which is why some there have wings, and some do not, said Raphael with a nod down toward the busy sea of angelic beings. And other areas of this place are more like an earthly garden. Some prefer a tropical island. You are welcome to explore if you wish, but perhaps another time. Rest with me, now.

  It was almost a command, but not quite, and the brothers went back to quietly sipping their tea and thinking, the overwhelming events of the past few hours slowly coalescing in their minds. They had a lot of new traits to work with, a new level of power, and new understanding as to where they’d come from and why, but certainly not all the answers. Those would come in time, they knew, some through exploration and self-discovery, and some with the help of the greater angels showing them the way. But probably, they guessed, through a lot of trial-and-error and life experience.

  So... why a dragon? Mike asked finally, unable to contain the question any longer. Raphael poured himself a little more tea, and refreshed their cups as well, smiling softly.

  It is part of your nature. Your original nature. For sometimes the seraphim take dragon forms.

  Brian’s eyes widened and he nearly choked on his tea, even though it was technically impossible for him to choke.

  Ser... excuse me...?

  Raphael smiled. Yes. That is who and what you were once. One of the great seraphim at the side of God. Or the Creator, the Source, if you prefer. I am pleased to see you again, even as you are now, broken into three. I am even more pleased to see that you can still be just as powerful, perhaps even moreso if each of you can manifest the dragon form. The parts may be more than the sum, in this case. Interesting.

  They fell into silence again, the brothers adding this piece of the puzzle to the others, taking it in and digesting it even as they did the tea.

  What kind is this? asked Barrett, holding up his cup, hoping to get some for the house once they returned home.

  Raphael’s eyes twinkled a little. No earthly tea. Some might call it manna.

  Reflexively, all three of them looked into their cups. It looked like tea, smelled like tea, and tasted like tea, except it was the best they’d ever had in their lives. Suddenly Brian started to giggle.

  Manna tea. Like manatee, get it?

  He broke into a grin, and his brothers couldn’t help themselves. Whatever confusion and tension remained rolled off in their laughter at the terrible pun. Raphael’s eyes twinkled over the edge of his cup. They were all feeling better with each sip and every passing minute, and they realized what it was the angel was saying.

  So this is... said Barrett, pausing while he figured out how to phrase it. Special to us? As in, angels and what we need in the way of food? Because... uh... The last thing he wanted to discuss just then was normal human bodily functions. Mercifully, Raphael nodded, understanding where the train of thought was going.

  Your bodies are different now, and have different needs. Inside of you is a piece of the Source, from which you can draw of course, and in fact you could survive perfectly well on that alone, with no need of food, or drink, or even air. But is that really living? Not for ones such as yourselves, who come from a human experience and life. We enjoy the experiences and tastes of eating and drinking, and the expressive habit of breathing and having a heart beat and walking on the earth as human beings. As you have discovered, earthly foods do go into feeding your bodies without waste. They still give you energy. But manna is the most perfect food known for our kind. You feel it, yes? The healing and restorative power of it.

  The brothers nodded. Even after everything they’d been through, the fatigue and mental stresses were melting away surprisingly fast. With each sip of tea, in fact.

  Any way to get this at home? Would come in really handy, said Barrett, looking at Raphael hopefully.

  I assume by “home” you mean the house in California. Yes, you can get it there. You know how, Barrett.

  The oldest Mason’s brow creased. At first he didn’t know what the archangel meant, but then his eyes suddenly widened as the lightbulb went on.

  Oh! Yes! Like the backpack...

  Just so, said Raphael with a smile. He finished his tea and looked down at the organized chaos of the luminous beings below them. Barrett was struck by how much it looked like the floor of the New York Stock Exchange, but without the trash, bathed in golden mist, and infinitely bigger. He looked back at Raphael, and saw that his attention was on something happening below.

  Excuse me, said the great angel. With one impossibly graceful motion, Raphael glided down to a cluster of light beings that seemed concerned about something, the rest of them going about their business as usual. When he returned a short time later, his face had lost its softness and humor. Something was troubling him.

  What’s going on, asked Mike, downing the last of his tea quickly. He could sense that something was about to happen, and that it probably involved himself and his brothers.

  Now that you have rested, you are needed. What you have been doing recently, unasked and with little experience, was on instinct. You went and helped all those people because you felt compelled. It was the right thing to do. In your nature.

  They nodded, listening carefully. Mike slung the pack over his shoulder and they all started to stand, hardly conscious of their actions. They could feel something coming, both individually and as a unit.

  We ask that you return now to Los Angeles. May your newfound skills serve you well in what you find there.

  They looked at each other and didn’t question it any further. They felt the pull, the call, and that was enough. They were needed. And it wouldn’t be easy.

  Thank you, Brian said for all of them.

  Raphael reached out and touched each of them on the head in a brief blessing. A simple gesture, but one that was akin to pulling a tangled thread straight, righting something and bringing clarity. Without another word the Masons pushed off and glided down toward the opening into the darker level below the angelic activity in the golden mists.

  They retraced the path that Charon’s boat had taken, through the places of healing and learning, leaving the bright light behind. They descended into the halls of judgment, which seemed so cold and closed off and dark and almost musty now. As they passed two other angels heading the opposite direction, Barrett remembered the scene when they had first arrived, and their wonder at seeing the luminous beings of heaven moving in and out of the gateways in floor and ceiling. Or the “floor” and “ceiling” that they were given to perceive in this place. A shiver went up his spine as he recognized that he and his brothers were now three of those angels being seen by the newly departed of earth as they passed through judgment. He almost had the urge to wave, but refrained.

  It also struck him that they now knew their way around The Other Side a little, and had just been not just in the presence of two of the greatest archangels known to man, but had touched them, spoken with them, fought and had tea with them.

  Manna... he thought absently, hardly seeing the journey back through the misty tunnel into the absolute darkness, illuminated only by their own bodies.

  What?

  Brian turned to look at him questioningly as they flew. Barrett was struck by how beautiful his brother was at that moment, a golden angelic light in the infinite darkness, and it took him a few moments to recover. Or a minute, or a half hour. It was still hard to discern time.

  Nothing, just thinking about... about everything...

  His brothers nodded, understanding, their heads still full of so much information and so many questions. But the call urged them on. There would be time for all that later.

  A dimness became visib
le, the distance impossible to guess. The dark space they were in seemed to become more narrow, and a few city sounds such as sirens began to make themselves known. They breathed in, and instead of the neutral, unnecessary air of the abyss, little hints of earthly scents and pollution and pollen and and oxygen and nitrogen and a hundred other things filled their lungs. The ceiling was close now, and they halted their flight. They could sense where the portal was, but were loathe to go through it, the pure darkness of the abyss and the pure light of heaven seeming much more hospitable than the dirt and chaos that lay just beyond the familiar tiled roof of the Los Angeles Public Library. But the call could not be refused.

  Mike was first through, and squinted in the bright sunlight, his eyes watering. His brothers followed right after, Barrett coughing a little on the now unfamiliar air. Brian put his hand up to help shield his eyes and sneezed a few times.

  They blinked, then blinked again, sure that somehow they’d taken a wrong turn somewhere. They looked at each other, then back at the shocking and alien landscape. Barrett looked back at the roof they’d just come through. The familiar tile sun design was there, but damaged. Large pieces of concrete had fallen away from the tower like flaking paint from an old door.

  Everywhere they looked, buildings had crumbled, people were trapped, cars lay crushed, fires burned, chasms and sinkholes scarred the streets, dust and smoke and sirens filled the air. And as they watched, another aftershock from the epic earthquake that had occurred while they were gone sent more debris onto the heads of those below.

  It finally happened. Brian’s words were barely audible in his brothers’ heads, just a whisper of thought, but nothing more needed to be said. They had a job to do. A massive job helping as many as they could in the ruins of what was once Los Angeles.

  NINETEEN

  Brian was right: It had finally happened. The big earthquake that everybody in Los Angeles had at the back of their mind, but pretended wouldn’t occur in their lifetime. Despite other smaller quakes, despite the state upping seismic requirements on buildings old and new, despite all the disaster movies and television shows, despite everything... The Big One had still come and caught nearly everyone in the sprawling megacity with their proverbial pants down. And the aftershocks kept raining destruction down on the rescue efforts.

  Brian’s phone went off, startling him. He hadn’t just forgotten he had it on him, he’d half forgotten it existed. The caller ID listed Reverend Charles.

  Hello? he answered mentally after pushing the green button, then rolled his eyes at himself, answering properly the second time. “Hello?”

  “Los Angeles...” the thick voice of the overweight man on the other end gasped at him. “I’ve been trying to call you for two hours! At first the phone wouldn’t go through, but then I just got voicemail, and then I left messages, but then I thought... what if you were... but you can’t...”

  “Okay, stop,” said Brian firmly, not in any mood for dealing with a long-distance panic attack from a slightly unhinged preacher. “We’re fine, but the city’s not. It’s kind of... destroyed. You were right about the library, though,” he said, looking back over his shoulder and around the edge of his wing at what remained of the historic building. “Hold on.”

  Still hanging motionless several hundred yards above the street, he held up his phone to take a picture, and then realized he didn’t know where to start. Finally he turned away from the bright sun and toward the huge black reflective bank building they’d landed on before. A huge piece of the exterior had fallen away and crushed the “Double Ascension” sculpture and fountain below, also killing a few of the lunch crowd eating at the tables nearby. He snapped another picture of the pile of brick that was once The California Club, then one more of the current dilapidated state of the library.

  “God have mercy,” said the preacher on the other end once he’d received them. “We’ve had a few helicopter shots on the news, but you’re right in the thick of it.”

  “We sure are,” replied Brian grimly. His brothers could hear both sides of the conversation, simply picking up on what Brian was hearing through their shared mental connection without any effort. “We’ve gotta go. Job to do. A really big one.” Reverend Charles remained silent on the other end, understanding and still fishing for something to say. Brian simply ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket – everything else would have to wait.

  The more modern buildings remained standing but showed signs of the disaster, but most of the older treasures constructed in the 1920s or before were damaged heavily or completely destroyed. Seismic upgrades had saved lives, but had not saved all the buildings.

  Barrett ran a hand through his wavy, disheveled hair. “Where do we even start?” he muttered.

  They were still right over where they’d come out from the roof of the library, surveying the damage below and not caring if they were seen. They doubted anybody was going to look up right then anyway.

  “Just... anywhere, I guess,” suggested Mike, then he gracefully dove down toward the smoke and dust and noise. Barrett was struck by how much his brother moved like Raphael had earlier that... day? Week? Year? Whenever it was that they had been sitting with the great archangel having tea. Time was still catching up with them.

  His brothers followed. This was far bigger than anything they’d encountered in the past few weeks of their newfound life of rescue and adventure. Bigger than the quakes they’d helped with in China and Pakistan and India and Chile. Those had seemed like mere rehearsals for this. Barrett wondered if that was exactly what they’d been.

  As one, almost on instinct, they reached out their minds to locate anyone in pain, anyone trapped by debris or fire or vehicles or otherwise in need. Close by was a businessman who had been on his way to the bank but who now found himself half crushed inside his car. A few yards away from him was a little girl who was unconscious but alive under a fallen wall. Nearby was her frantic, screaming mother, covered in dust and blood.

  Little flashes of lives sparked all around them as each person’s story was played. How they’d gotten there, if they were alive or not, and where they were exactly. Brian closed his eyes and reached out, nearly overwhelmed – he could tell that if he allowed himself and focused on it, he would be able to sense the lives of everyone in the city.

  Mike nudged him. “Hey. Don’t get lost.” Not bothering to hide his wings or anything else about him, he grunted with effort as he lifted up one end of an impossibly heavy piece of wall, revealing the little girl underneath. Brian was next to her in an instant, hands glowing with golden light, giving her his healing touch. Barrett caught the girl’s mother as she fainted.

  “This is going to take forever,” their oldest grumbled, but Mike shot him a smirk over his shoulder.

  “We have forever...” said Brian quietly, almost dream-like as he was deep in concentration, eyes closed, focused on healing the little girl. He could mentally see where the broken bones were, the internal injuries, and soothed everything back into place gently. She gasped, a soft little child’s gasp as if just waking up from a strange and vivid dream, and opened her eyes.

  “There was a light...” she started to say, then saw the angels around her and fell into a stunned silence, eyes huge.

  “It wasn’t time to go there yet,” said Brian, opening his own eyes and smiling softly. “What’s your name?”

  “Elizabeth,” she managed to breathe quietly, frozen to the spot.

  Brian kissed her on top of the head. “Let’s take care of your mommy, Elizabeth,” he said, then picked her up. Mike dropped the huge piece of wall gratefully.

  “That was getting really heavy,” he muttered, then headed for the crushed car of the businessman he’d felt earlier.

  Barrett crouched on the sidewalk still half holding the unconscious woman that looked a lot like the little girl. Her head was bleeding from a scalp wound that looked worse than it was – they’d learned that those kinds of injuries just tended to be bleeders. Bria
n set the girl on her feet next to them.

  “You want to help make her feel better?”

  Elizabeth nodded mutely, still somewhat stunned. Brian took her hand, bringing the healing glow back to his, and together they brushed gently over her mother’s wounds, which disappeared under their fingers. Barrett carefully laid the woman down.

  “Take good care of her, she’ll wake up in a minute, and there’s others we need to help,” he said, putting a hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder. She nodded again unable to do much else, and sat down on the ground, holding her mother’s hand. Barrett smiled and they moved off to see what else they could do.

  Mike had pulled the fallen debris and the other car off of the businessman’s car, and had been about to heal him when his brothers came up. Together they laid their hands on the man, his injuries disappearing in mere seconds. Three times as fast, in fact.

  A teenage boy came tearing around the corner, running at top speed, and nearly tripped over his own feet when he saw the Masons. He did, however, manage to crash straight into a lamp post, knocking himself out cold and breaking his nose in the process. Barrett sighed, fixed the boy’s face, then reached out to determine where they could be the most help.

  “Maybe we should put the boys away,” suggested Mike quietly, looking around. His brothers nodded in agreement, the three making their wings disappear and appearing to be ordinary men again.

  They fanned out, each one sensing someone who needed help, falling into a now-familiar rhythm. It was the biggest situation they’d ever had to deal with, but as long as they focused on the area they were in, and didn’t let it overwhelm them, it wasn’t much different than any of the other disasters they’d helped with.

  They worked one hour, then two, then nearly three before Brian finally had to sit down out of sheer exhaustion. Drawing from the Source was of course much easier than it had been, but even angels had their limits. He looked around for his brothers, feeling as much as seeing where they were.