by Nana Malone
Elisabeth followed the Regent out into the garden. Gravel crunched beneath their feet as they wandered through meticulously maintained gardens containing flora and fauna Elisabeth had never dreamed of.
“Azrael is very attached to you,” the Regent said at last.
Elisabeth was silent, the tap-tap-tap of her cane on the gravel her only answer.
“The question is,” the Regent continued. “Are you as attached to him?”
“If I didn’t care for him, Ma’am,” Elisabeth said. “I wouldn’t be here.”
The Regent nodded. They continued in silence until the path approached the temple of the Cherubim god. The enormous carved doors looked ridiculously oversized for a woman that petite as she shoved them open so they could stride inside. Several angels and a bug-man bowed reverently and scurried out.
“Be seated," the Regent ordered.
Elisabeth sat on the simple wooden bench which, although sized for larger creatures, was still reasonably comfortable.
“Bishamonten,” the Regent said softly, fondly stroking the armor of the statue. “Akuma o kyōda suru tame ni, watashi ni no chikara o kasu.”
The language was neither English nor the angel-language everyone else around here spoke of which she'd picked up just a few words, but the soles of Elisabeth's feet tingled as she sensed the shift of energy in the room.
“You can feel that,” the Regent asked. “Can’t you?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Elisabeth said.
The Regent nodded with approval. Whatever she was looking for, Elisabeth realized she’d just passed some sort of test.
“You have questions,” the Regent made a great show of arranging white calla lilies in a vase and not meeting her eyes. “You’ve picked up on the undercurrents of dark, hurtful things which make you hesitate to give us your trust. That distrust prevents you from bonding properly to Azrael.”
“I don’t like sitting in the dark, Ma’am,” Elisabeth said. “I’ve been caught on the short end of the stick too many times to not notice when things don’t add up.”
The Regent grunted in satisfaction.
“He said you had a good head on your shoulders,” the Regent said. “Good. He needs that. Azrael is brilliant, but he’s too trusting.”
“I noticed that, Ma’am,” Elisabeth said. Despite her uneasiness at being summoned, she couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Azrael awkwardly perched on a stool, taking notes.
Satisfied with the flowers, the Regent turned and scrutinized her as though she could see straight into her heart and soul. It felt like being cast naked into a crowd. Elisabeth stared into those all-seeing black eyes which swirled with unimaginable power, understanding that to flinch would be a mistake. She resisted the urge to chew her lip.
“You wish to know why your world is ground zero for our war against Moloch,” the Regent asked.
“I was led to believe that wasn’t anybody’s doing, Ma’am,” Elisabeth said. “He just ended up there and it’s something we all need to deal with.”
The Regent nodded. She plucked a stick of incense from a holder and lit it using one of the candles at the feet of the enormous statue. The scent of sandalwood and flowers filled the air. A slender tendril of smoke curled back upon itself before dissipating into the air like a symbol of eternity.
“I sense you know what it’s like to long for something that doesn’t make sense,” the Regent said. “People say you’re crazy. So you silence that small, quiet voice that clamors for you to look at what’s right in front of your eyes.”
“My earliest childhood memory is of seeing the statue in the lounge of First Saint Paul’s church and thinking it was a friend,” Elisabeth said. “My parents used to tease me about my obsession with angels. I always thought my invisible angel friend would pop in at any moment to play with me. Even before I met Azrael."
The Regent nodded.
“Echoes of past lives,” the Regent said. “One of She-who-is’s favorite tricks is to wipe out your memories. She justifies it as a chance to start over without being hindered by your past-life mistakes. I say it's just an easy way to get people to act the way you want them to act without justifying your actions. It is something upon which we fundamentally disagree. But…”
The Regent waved her arm like Vanna White turning letters on Wheel of Fortune.
"SHE shaped all of this, so we have to play by her rules."
The Regent moved to arrange some beautiful white flowers that reminded Elisabeth of the Easter lilies First Saint Paul's had always kept on the altar after someone had a funeral the day before. The scent was so intoxicating it made her want to sneeze.
“What does that have to do with Azrael?” Elisabeth asked, and then added on a gut impulse, “or you and your husband?”
The Regent snorted, but it did not sound as though she took offense.
“The Seraphim take one mate,” the Regent said. “Not just for life, but for all lifetimes so long as they remain mortal. A mated pair will find each other no matter how many lifetimes they live until they’ve evolved enough to be freed from the wheel of rebirth together. The urge is instinctive, without conscious thought. Seraphim descendants truly cannot grasp that humans can choose to mate for life. Or not. I think you know what I’m talking about?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Tommy Rodriguez jumped into her mind. That had been a mistake!
“Yes,” the Regent read her thoughts. “It was. You’re not the only mortal who ever made a bad choice out of loneliness. But you need to understand that a mistake like that can get an Angelic killed.”
She turned to Elisabeth and tapped her own chest. "We have a saying. The only thing that can kill an archangel is a broken heart."
Elisabeth let those words sink in. So that was what had Rahmiel and the other archangels so flighty about the fact she was sniffing around Azrael. But how do you kill someone who was already dead? Sorta dead. Actually, now that he'd regained some of his physical form, did that technically make him alive? She suspected even they didn't know.
“Azrael told me that a long time ago," Elisabeth could not help but feel a little bit offended at her concern. "Is there anything else I should know, Ma’am?”
“There are many things you should know,” the Regent said softly. “We’d like to teach you. If you’re willing to learn.”
Elisabeth wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or angry the Regent served up the same shit-on-a-shingle for dinner that her daughter had served, only with ketchup. Protective custody her ass!
The Regent laughed, her concern disappearing behind an expression that made her look more like Titania, the fairy queen, than a harbinger of destruction.
“You must show me what this distasteful meal they serve in your military tastes like,” the Regent said, her laughter a soft tinkling sound echoing off the rafters of the temple. “It sounds like the food Hashem feeds his mortal armies. Remolecularized food cubes.”
Not only had the Regent picked up on her visual image of the slop they plopped onto trays in the mess tent, but also the cause of her angst.
“Am I a prisoner here, Ma’am?"
“What do you remember of your past lifetimes?” The Regent's bottomless black eyes swirled with power. Elisabeth squirmed under her intense gaze.
“Nothing, Ma’am,” Elisabeth said. “Azrael tells me we’re not supposed to remember our past lifetimes. He discourages me from even trying.”
“A kindness, I suppose, given how horribly you died,” the Regent shrugged. “In that I think he and She-who-is agree. But I believe in full disclosure. What else has She-who-is has wiped from your memory?”
“Sometimes I wonder if maybe I am Az’s friend who died” Elisabeth said. “Your husband said he thought I might be her.”
“Of that I am certain,” the Regent said. “I can see through She-who-is’s ruse. But there’s another name attached to your soul, an even older one which predates this universe. Your subconscious whispers it to you from time to time.”
&
nbsp; “Yes,” Elisabeth said. “When I dream of fire, it feels as though I’m Elissar. But I’m also somebody else. I’m angry because I’ve been searching for someone like Azrael for a very long time and I don’t want to leave him behind.”
The Regent's black eyes became even more intent. She turned to gaze up at the enormous statue, her expression reverent. “What about you, old friend. What do you see?”
The Regent cocked her head, as though listening to an internal voice. Whatever the old god said, an expression of sympathy appeared on the Regent's face before turning into laughter once more.
“Ahh … Eosphorus. That explains much,” the Regent said to the statue of the Cherubim god. “Hashem will not be pleased to discover he now has three of you to babysit, but Shay’tan will be tickled.”
“Ma’am?” Elisabeth asked, perplexed.
“You have much in common with my husband,” the Regent said. “You need Azrael to help you heal as much as he needs you to help him heal.”
The Regent waved her hand in front of Elisabeth’s chest. It felt as though she tugged a brick out of the wall she’d built around her heart since her family’s death to protect it. The ever-present hymn grew so loud if felt as though she were standing in the middle of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Tears gathered in her eyes as she sensed her connection to Azrael and sobbed. The emotion she feared filled her heart with joy.
“Don’t lose him a second time,” the Regent slipped her arm through Elisabeth's as though they were sisters and led her out of the temple towards the cottage. “He waited 2,300 years for you to come back, and then he found you again. It’s time to let go of your pain and trust him. He’s not the one who damaged you.”
The Regent led Elisabeth out to the meticulously tended garden. All pathways led to this sanctuary, like the hub connecting the spokes of a gigantic wheel. Their conversation turned to less weighty matters as the Regent pointed out the various flora and fauna which were native here and educated her about the history of the Cherubim who had taken her in and trained her while she'd been in that vulnerable, intermediate state halfway between a mortal and an ascended being. They stopped to smell the flowers, the scent of the air near a bubbling brook, a handful of moist earth near the stream. Each time the Regent urged her to close her eyes and feel the subtle energy which lay beneath all matter, coaching her how to look into each delicate life-form and see the tiny spark of life that inhabited everything from the tiniest insect to the most powerful god.
As they approached the tiny mud-brick cottage, the Regent waved her hand in front of Elisabeth’s chest a second time. A sensation akin to having electricity turned on and off again in her heart made her aware of the connection Rahmiel had been unsuccessfully trying to teach her to feel.
“If you have any doubt he will search for you and find you again no matter how many lifetimes it takes for you to regain your immortality,” the Regent said, “here is your proof.”
“Elisabeth? Is that you?”
Azrael burst out the door, hastily rearranging his physical form so he appeared as Elisabeth had first seen him, her beautiful dark angel. He couldn’t hold the shape long before his wings devolved back into tentacles, but the rest of his body was holding up pretty well. It wouldn’t be long before he’d heal enough to bring her home.
Home … where was home? Did such a place even exist?
She stared up into that beautiful black visage that reminded her of some gangly science nerd she might sit next to in chemistry class. The real Azrael. The one she could happily pore through a nursing text with for hours on end and discuss such abstract topics as biochemistry or ways to piece back together a broken collarbone until the wee hours of the morning. Home was where he was…
“Azrael,” the Regent said. “Bishamonten has agreed to take Elisabeth under our protection. As soon as Vohamanah can teach her to use the blue ray to contact us if Moloch attacks, you may both return to Earth.”
“Thank you, my Queen,” Azrael bowed.
The Regent reached up to tousle his hair as though he were a small boy. Azrael wiggled like a puppy being given a treat. She leaned towards Elisabeth and whispered:
“He’s very shy. You’ll have to give him some none-too-subtle encouragement or you’ll be waiting for him to build up the guts to make a move for a very long time.”
Her informality disappeared.
“Your wings are coming apart at the seams, ceann beag. Tuck them behind your back before you accidentally zap your mate. They’re the only part of you that’s still a danger to her.”
Azrael’s form was too dark to show any color other than black, but if it was possible for midnight black to blush, he did so now. The Regent disappeared in a puff of darkness, leaving them alone.
“Why do they keep calling me … mate?” Elisabeth feigned innocence. “Is it some sort of military rank like the Australians use?”
Azrael almost choked.
“Um … uh … they think … ah ... because … um … because we … ah … you can touch me … um … it must be because … um…” Azrael stuttered. His wings devolved into tentacles as distraction caused him to lose focus.
“The Regent said everything except your wings are safe to touch,” Elisabeth searched his dark eyes.
“Y-mm-maybe?” Azrael stammered.
Elisabeth touched the beautiful, high cheekbone she’d been longing to caress for a very long time. Azrael's breath caught in his chest as though not sure what to do next. He tentatively reached out and did the same. She traced his beautiful, dark features, cheek to ear, and ran her fingers down his strong jawline. Although he felt more solid now than he had several months ago, there was still an otherworldliness about the way he took shape beneath her fingertips, as though he were made of stardust and she was his sculptor.
She stood on tiptoes and brushed her lips against his, the sensation feather-light as though she were kissing fog. He gasped with surprise, not sure what to do until some older, more primal instinct kicked in and instructed action where intellect failed. He pulled her against his chest, drinking the chalice of her lips as though it were sweet wine. A sensation akin to electricity tingled wherever his form came into contact with hers, but it was pleasant. Extremely pleasant. Fire ignited in her chest and slid like water down to her feminine core. She wished to do a hell of a lot more to her beautiful angel than just kiss him!
“Mo ghra [my love],” Azrael trembled with emotion. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this moment.”
The ground they stood upon trembled, but the sensation was not threatening. Azrael’s power was tied to his emotions. To overwhelm him with physical sensation after thousands of years of sensory deprivation would probably not be wise. She needed to acclimate him to the sensation of being touched again, just as the Regent had just acclimated her to the notion of sensing the energy that underlay all matter so she’d be more aware of being touched by her immortal lover. She forced herself to break away, caressing his cheek as she stared into his velvet black eyes.
“Soon,” she smiled. “First we have to do something about your poor wings.”
Tugging him along behind her, they slipped back into the tiny cabin and shut the door. Elisabeth led him over to the sleeping platform and gave him her most sultry, come hither look.
“W-w-we should…” Azrael stammered. “I want … but … it’s a big deal … um … we should … um … ask and … um … we only … and … um … there’s an … um … ceremony and … um … my wings are too dangerous!”
“I know,” Elisabeth silenced his apprehensions with a kiss and heaved his heavy cloak off her chair. It weighed so much she could barely lift it. She wrapped the unwieldy garment around herself so it covered her from head to toe, smiling at the puzzled look on Azrael’s face.
“I’m not sleeping in that cold sleeping loft another night,” Elisabeth said. “Move over!”
He stood there like a tall, gangly beanpole, wing-tentacles twitching with uncertainty until he realized
she wished to spoon. He clamored in behind her, awkward as a puppy, and aimed his wing-tentacles harmlessly into the wall. With a sigh of pure contentment, he snuggled into her back and gingerly placed his arms around her as though she were made of glass.
Azrael wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. He would soak up the sensation of her warmth, muffled as it was by the heavy cloak, and teach his body to solidify against it until his physical form learned to become solid.
“I’ve loved you for a very long time,” Azrael whispered into her ear. His hands cautiously explored the feel of her cloaked body nestled against his. “If you’ll have me, I’d like to take you to be my mate.”
“For life?” Elisabeth relished the echo of his happiness in her own heart. Whatever the Regent had done to make her feel, it had removed the heavy brick which had weighed down her heart for longer that she could remember.
“For life,” Azrael said. “Our species doesn’t do it any other way.”
“Then if you zap me in my sleep,” Elisabeth whispered. “I shall die a happy woman.”
Within moments, she was asleep in her beloved’s arms.
* * * * *
Chapter 54
To be idle is a short road to death
And to be diligent is a way of life;
Foolish people are idle,
Wise people are diligent.
The Buddha
Earth: December 13, 2003
Al-Dawr, Iraq
“Go!” Sam Adams hissed. At the moment he wore his Sergeant's stripes. The stripes he’d been wearing the first time Elisabeth had met him at the Army recruitment office in Chicago, although unbeknownst to her, he'd been keeping tabs on her long before he’d made himself known.
Six hundred Coalition Special Forces fanned out to surround Objectives Wolverine One and Wolverine Two. Several members of the First Brigade were embedded Sata’an-human hybrid agents, but they weren’t taking a leadership position. In fact, most of them were just along for the ride. A little insurance policy to make sure the Agent squatting on Saddam Hussein's mortal shell didn’t escape if their intelligence was good.