And all around him, the favela began to shift and change-battered aluminum shacks turning into houses; trees and grass sprouting and growing, flowers blooming, as the moon faded away and the sky turned a brilliant, cloudless blue.
Batty looked at Callahan and Michael, all of them standing there, frozen in place, covered in fine black dust, their weapons limp in their hands, their mouths agape-
– as they stared in awe at the world around them.
54
It was almost as if it had never happened.
As if the clock had been turned back a few hours, leaving the city to blithely go about its business. Traffic in the streets, schoolchildren on buses, drive-time radio stations playing the latest hits from Sao Paulo and around the globe.
But it had also changed somehow.
They all felt it as they stood there in the center of the city. They couldn’t know for certain, of course, but it seemed as if a giant pressure valve had been opened, releasing all the tension from the world.
Replacing it with hope.
They had walked here from the favela, dazed and exhausted, the three of them looking as if they’d emerged from a coal mine. And as they paused to take it all in, Michael said, “You do realize this isn’t the end of it.”
Callahan gestured to their newly restored surroundings. “Looks pretty definitive to me.”
“Don’t let any of this fool you,” Michael said. “It’s a second chance, nothing more. A shot at redemption, not a return to Paradise. There are no guarantees for humankind. There are no guarantees for any of us.”
Batty nodded, a familiar line of poetry coming to mind. “Long is the way, and hard, that out of hell leads up to light.”
Callahan looked at him. “Milton?”
“Paradise Lost. Seems appropriate, don’t you think?” He turned to Michael. “This isn’t the last we’ve seen of Belial, is it?”
“If I know my sister, she and Beelzebub are already licking their wounds and planning their next move.” He paused. “But that’s not the worst of it.”
“What do you mean?”
“This isn’t the same world our father created. We’ve entered a new age now. And the enemies of humankind aren’t limited to a handful of disgruntled angels. There are forces out there-human and otherwise-waiting, watching, looking for weaknesses to exploit. And if this second chance is to mean anything, we’ll have to remain vigilant, always alert.”
“We?” Callahan said.
“Custodes Sacri’s job is far from done.”
“So what are you suggesting?”
Michael turned to face them now. “You’ve proven yourselves today. There aren’t many who could do what you’ve done. Yet you prevailed. We prevailed.”
Batty instinctively touched the medallion hanging from his neck. He’d forgotten he’d put it on.
“I think it’s time we transform ourselves,” Michael said. “Broaden the view, so to speak. Become the eyes and ears of humankind and do what we can to help God’s new angel watch over the world.”
What he said made sense to Batty, and for the first time since Rebecca died, he almost felt whole again.
“But that’s an enormous undertaking,” Callahan said. “And there aren’t enough of us to go around.”
“Yet look what we’ve managed to do. Three solitary beings who came together to make something happen. Never underestimate the power of determination.”
“Or desperation,” Batty said.
They all laughed, but there was very little humor in it.
“We aren’t alone in this,” Michael told them. “There are others out there who remain unseen-human and angel alike.”
Batty thought of the anonymous D.C. connection and glanced at Callahan, wondering if she was sharing his thought.
“We can build a network of guardians,” Michael continued, “and work together to keep all of our travelers safe.”
They looked at one another, nodding in agreement, then Michael offered them his hand, palm up, and said, “Defende eos.”
Protect them.
Batty and Callahan exchanged another glance, then clasped his outstretched hand and said it again. In unison.
And as they watched Michael slice a hole in the atmosphere to lead them back home, Callahan turned to Batty.
“What do you think, Professor? A drink to celebrate?”
“Only if it’s orange juice,” he said.
She grinned. “It may take me a while to sort all this out, but there’s one thing I know for sure.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ll be sleeping like a baby tonight.”
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-fe1651-da66-ea46-a5af-51e5-2930-4d3bfb
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 10.10.2012
Created using: calibre 0.9.1, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
Browne, Robert
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The Paradise Prophecy Page 36