by Azure Boone
“Unaccountable pleasure and power, front and center.” Salem muttered on about mankind’s blindness to the dangers of submitting to the impulse to pursue pleasure without thought to consequence.
“The age is already ripe for taking. We've seen it over and over on a smaller scale.” Uriel tightened his expression. “The addictions of the wicked are growing and immorality at every level is flourishing.” The seasoned warrior's anger seeped through, but it only mirrored the depth of his feeling for his youngest siblings, the humans.
Having spent ages cautioning the warriors against emotional involvement in their missions, things were especially dire for Uriel to let his own slip in. But as Commander of The Brotherhood of Warriors, Toren trusted he would use it to sharpen the wisdom of his judgments, rather than cloud them.
“And the righteous?” Kassern finally broke his own silence.
“They more than sense the make-or-break tension at the seams of every society. They know something grave is coming, and they're trying to prepare, but aren't sure how. And now with the new Pope in play, this could get really bad really fast.” Uriel stood, hopefully to end the meeting. “Thankfully, the faithful are more than ready to take it to the next step. They just need to be point in the right direction.”
Dorn stood to face their commander. “All respect sir, but our faithful are pathetically few and far between and dangerously prone to temptation. What about this Pope, what are the odds looking like?”
Uriel rolled a small ball of emerald mist between his two fingers, something Toren noticed he did when in deep thought. “Your female human holds the key. Not your wife, the other one,” as though Dorn had asked. “Jessie. She seems to have obtained one of the more valuable aspects of your power.”
“Like what?” Lyght’s diamond eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“Empathy. Compassion. And prophetic knowledge of the past and present. You need to get her an audience with him. If Socerith succeeds in winning the Pope, his first act will be legalizing birth control for the faithful. It will be heralded as progress in moving the Church into the twenty-first century, and change that's readily accepted by the rest of the modern world. A mere crack in the doorway that will lead to the complete dismantling of an already shaky sovereignty.”
“You speak as though that Church is still pure and not plagued with the grievances of man-tweak and shop keep.” Arith punctuated the gravelly pronouncement by heavily propping his feet on the onyx table, pushing the limits of Uriel's seemingly endless patience, as always.
Man-tweak and shop keep? Somebody was cramming their human vocabulary studies. Toren’s mercury braced for Uriel’s wrath. Arith was just powerful enough to trifle with the commander’s patience. But Toren understood the warrior’s need to engage his superior in a battle. Anything to take his mind off the looming damnation of gaining humanity.
“Many people think it is still pure. But we all know there isn’t a church on Earth that is entirely error free. But at the base of many of these spiritual cells is the soul-saving ingredient that allows us to navigate them through the muddied waters.”
Meron ran his hands over his face and let them drop to the table with a frustrated thump. “I for one will be eternally grateful when this Age is over. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly the ways of sin infest the human spirit and mind until there's a festering cess-pool of human dirty bombs ready to go off and contaminate not only all of humanity, but future generations as well.”
“Any good news in this batch of…” Grythe paused, searching for the word he needed.
“Shit, is the human term,” Kassern offered.
Uriel paused. “Actually, yes. I’ve decided I will go ahead and select your wives to make this process quicker. One less detail for you to concern yourselves with.”
The majority of Toren’s brothers came off their seats in booming protests with Kassern clutching his chest in mock devastation for his brothers.
“Fine by me,” Zool muttered. “Just make sure she’s extremely intelligent and tough, I cannot tolerate a senseless human.”
“Not fine by me,” Lassin said. “Just let me window shop a little longer—”
“No more time.” Uriel snapped his fingers and a viewing port that vaguely resembled a flat screen TV materialized at his side. “These are all convents we know he’s infested, and we're certain there are more we haven't found yet.” He pointed to more than a dozen random spots on the virtual map. “We need to step up this operation. I originally gave you a month to form your triumvirates. Now I need you to accomplish that phase in half the time.”
“Half!” Grythe's wings erupted with a noisy clatter of fluttering crystals.
“Perfect.” Meron patted Grythe on the back. “The sooner we get it over with the better.”
“How are we supposed to woo a woman in two weeks?”
“Trust me, it won’t be a problem. I’m finding you women who are desperate. The human is most vulnerable and susceptible to love at those times. It’ll be simple.” Uriel raised emphatic brows. "You're archangels. Do what you’re good at. Anything and everything.
“That’s darn near sounding like coercion,” Toren drawled. If he didn't know better, he'd have sworn Uriel rolled his eyes.
“Well, if you want to call utilizing instinct to lure a drowning victim into a rescue boat coercion, then fine.” Uriel swiped the air and shut off the screen. “Heavens, we’ve been coercing humanity into the ark for centuries now. Don’t go soft on me now, simply because you’ll be hauling them on your backs.”
Vektor snorted lightly. “Says the ring master to the circus freaks.” When the others looked at him with confused expressions, he shrugged. "I don't know what it means. Someone said it in one of those television things. It seemed appropriate." His words fell as flat as a race joke at the funeral of a racial hate crime victim.
Uriel closed his eyes, no doubt praying for patience before assuring his brood of whiny warriors. “You can count on me. I’ll pick excellent wives for the rest of you.”
“I still cannot believe this is happening.” Zool cocked out an onyx leather clad leg and shook his head. “Archangels becoming part human and marrying women. Am I the only one that finds it a bit…blasphemous?” He regarded all his brothers with that intimidating black gaze. “I mean, we're required to have… relations with them. How is that angelic? And the humans in the triumvirate? I know the human marriage ceremony is a legal and social declaration of the union. But how is it right for us to use the power of their passion without the couple making the public vows they think constitute a marriage? Yes, technically it’s not a sin, but if they think it is, it’s a sin against their own conscience.”
“Look.” Uriel rubbed at his chin seeming tempted to lift the human vocabulary only requirement. “I understand your concerns because of our Brothers' rebellion. But the difference is, we have Father’s blessing. This is for the sake of humanity's salvation. We’re not secretly snatching whatever women we desire and bearing offspring like our brothers did. We are sacrificial lambs falling upon the knife ourselves, with full awareness. And we don't even know for sure what we're giving up." A hard expression suddenly crossed his face as though he were tired of discussing the thing that no amount of talking could change. What they were being asked to do was by far the most sacrificial duty ever demanded of them. They were being asked to give up…being angels. Basically. "This meeting is adjourned unless any of you have something to say.”
The speak-now-or-forever-hold-your-peace tone hung in the air like a noose. Toren wasn't surprised that all of his bothers resisted the temptation. Further discussion was pointless. Their fate was decided. And as elite archangels, all that was left was the doing.
“Good then. Continue your studies, especially about human women and…their sexuality. You’ll need to know everything you can get your hands on, though I caution you to avoid what the humans call pornography in your quest. Do whatever you have to in order to bon
d securely with your wife so that the triumvirates are not compromised. We cannot afford it. Kassern and Dorn, and soon Toren, will make themselves available to answer questions or explain anything that's unclear.” Uriel looked all around at the men who stood like baby warrior grunts before storming Hell. “Dismissed.”
"Damn it!" Sam Carrington pushed the leather bound ledger across the table and shoved her chair back in frustration. Her father's steadfast refusal to move into even the previous century and allow the ranch's accounts to be handled any other way drove her batty every week when she had to do payroll. Even the crew's checks had to be written by hand. As a result, a job that should only take an hour ended up sucking a whole day into the sewer.
And that wasn't even the worst of it. She stood and arched her back to relieve a little of the tension before dropping back into the chair. The mammoth leather attaché, filled to bursting with all the necessary details for roundup only a few short months out, leaned against the leg of the roughhewn table. Both the table and the attaché had served the ranch since her great-grandfather took over the operation. And they looked as old, too.
With payroll finally taken care of, she sighed past the knots in her stomach. Damn they couldn’t go on long like this. A ranch this size had the potential to lose as much as it stood to gain and everything—the round-up around the corner, the hands down with the flu for the past week and snow in the forecast—all made rocks in Sam’s stomach. Any normal situation could easily turn into a catastrophe, especially late winter weather. And it seemed that if anything went wrong, it did so on their ranch. If they were lucky, and they weren’t, they might survive the storm, but would they have enough animals worth rounding up?
The only humans left standing were her, the housekeeper, and of course that faithful bastard Joe, and he wasn't entirely standing. Out of all the guys to escape suffering the worst the flu had to offer, it had to be him. The idea of him falling off his horse, both his literal one and that metaphorical stud he rode so damn high on, offered endless entertainment.
She grabbed the stack of envelopes containing the crew's severely reduced wages and pocketed them. At least she could get some fresh air while she distributed pay and checked on the men who’d become like family. Except Joe. He was more like a parasite.
Her boot heels echoed on the hardwood floors until she stepped onto the stone tile of the kitchen. Kassie, the housekeeper and cook, looked up from dinner preparations and smiled when Sam entered.
The savory smells of the room surrounded her, and Sam couldn't contain her own grin in reply. The kitchen always had that effect on her, with its pots of fresh herbs growing on the windowsill and clumps of others drying on the rack suspended from the ceiling. Not even the depths of winter could darken the cheer of the room. It was the one place in the house she'd expected to miss when she had left for the convent. Too bad she’d only been there a few weeks before being called back to run things when her daddy fell sick.
Kassie wiped her hands on the dishtowel tucked into the front of her apron and passed Sam one of her current experiments. An adventurous cook, she was perpetually working out a new recipe. "Careful, it's hot."
Sam gingerly took the napkin-wrapped pastry and appreciatively sniffed the flaky crust topped with savory herbs. "What's in it?"
Kassie shook her blonde head, mystery shining in her mild green eyes. "Uh-uh. Just try it." She tucked wisps of hair behind an ear, watching expectantly.
Wary of the hot interior, Sam took an experimental bite. Onion and garlic bloomed on her tongue and she didn't bother to contain her moan of delight. Chicken and brown rice with broccoli, mushrooms and cheese combined to form a hearty filling.
“A hot balanced meal in one convenient crust.” Kassie nodded with a proud smile. “Packed right, it’ll stay hot for hours. Figured since the men can’t always come to the table at dinner time, they’d appreciate it.”
Sam glanced up to Kassie's semi-anxious face and hid her stuffed mouth. "Success! Looks like another winner for that cookbook."
Kassie relaxed and smiled back. "I'm so glad! Two more desserts and the recipes will be finished. Then it's just putting it all together and getting it to the publisher." Kassie had been beside herself with excitement for nearly a month, since a publisher had accepted her proposal for a cookbook of nutritious and delicious self-contained meals perfect to prepare ahead to be thawed, heated and packed. And the crew had enjoyed testing all the meals.
Sam laughed. "The guys'll be hounding you to write another as soon as this one's done just so they can be your test subjects." She paused a second and grimaced. "I swear, if I ever hear another man claim he doesn't need a flu shot because he never gets the flu, I'll shoot him. You'd think they were all three years old."
"Don't I know it. I'm glad you were able to put off your plans and come back to cover things." Kassie pulled another tray of her pastries from the oven. "After the way you left, I was afraid you'd say 'go to hell'."
The memory flushed Sam's cheeks. "I almost did. But when it came down to it, I didn't have a choice. I had to come back." It had really been a close call. That last fight with her father had nearly broken them beyond repair.
"You know, your Daddy was heartbroken when you left. Moped around talking about how horribly he'd screwed up with you." Kassie stopped wiping down the counters to give Sam her full attention.
Sam shrugged, still bitter. "Yeah, he did screw up. Still can’t believe he had the nerve to try and force me to marry that doofus Rubart, or however the creep is saying it this week. And that bastard Joe was just egging him on.” Sam pointed a finger at Kassie. “How much you wanna bet Joe put Daddy up to it? He's recruited Roobut to his little romance with the earth, sky and trees. Earth, wind and fire? Whatever. It would’ve given ol' Joe constant access to fully disciple the moron."
Kassie shook her head, clearly annoyed at the idea of a forced anything, especially a marriage. ”That old goat!" Her high cheekbones flushed with indignation as her hand fluttered to her throat. "I can't believe he thought he might get away with that!"
"Can you imagine Joe thinking he could interfere like that?”
“But sweetheart, Joe is a good man, he’s just…”
“A piece of shit.” Sam helped herself to another pastry, despising how the man had everybody under his thumb with his spiritual hoodoo. Including herself not so long ago.
Kassie’s mouth hung open a few seconds before her slim brows narrowed. “Well…I thought you liked him.”
“An extremely past tense disease I’d suffered from.” Sam licked her fingers. “Thank God I’m cured, but one has to wonder what in creation I ever saw in that mystical tree-hugging bastard.”
Kassie’s tinkly laughter burst out. “He is a little eccentric, I’ll admit.”
“Oh you are too kind. And of course he’d not get the flu, I mean after all, he’s a Spartan. Did you know the man was born with teeth? Chewed his way out of his mother’s vagina and went straight into battle, shooting everything dead.”
Kassie howled and Sam joined her, feeling much better.
“Honey,” Kassie put a gentle hand on Sam’s arm and said tenderly, “I’m really sorry.”
Sam was caught off guard by the rush of emotions the kind tone elicited from her. She hardened her spine, aiming her anger at her father. “Oh Daddy knew he wouldn't get away with it. That’s why he threatened to disown me." Heck, now that the cat was out of the bag, it felt good to talk about her hurt and anger, misdirected as it might be.
"Your Daddy was such a fool." The woman folded Sam into her arms. "But it's over now. You're back and things are getting on to normal."
"Not hardly." Sam wished she'd held the words back, but it couldn't be helped. She sighed. "I'm sorry, Kassie. But as soon as Daddy and the men are back on their feet, I'm out of here."
Kassie pulled back to gaze into her eyes. "You sure about that, Honey? We don't get many second chances, and that's what this is."
&
nbsp; "It might be, but I can't give on this one. Daddy’s a stubborn mule with a sore tail. I mean can you believe he’s still insisting I marry?”
“Oh, preposterous, you don’t need a man!” Kassie slammed her dishrag into the sink.
“And I swear if I have to look at that smug mug on Joe again, I’m going to punch him in his teeth. I'm just here long enough to keep everything moving until Daddy’s back on his feet. I care too much for you and the crew to let it fall apart because my father is being a jack ass." It had taken her some time to arrive at that conclusion, but honestly, she wasn’t sure what her father had in store. Shot gun wedding was still a very real concept in the old fart’s brain.
Kassie patted her shoulder and moved back to her work. "You see the weather reports this morning? Bad storm moving in."
That knot of sick tension tied itself into Sam's gut again and she set her third pastry on a napkin. A bad storm was never good on a cattle ranch, but this late February? Disaster. "I’m praying. Last night they said the system would go far enough north we'd just get a few flurries." Sam sighed and leaned against the counter. “But I figured I'd better prepare for the worst case scenario. I went ahead and put an ad for help just in case.”
"Well, we're in line for a direct hit now. The Jet Stream dipped unexpectedly." Kassie started hot water in the sink. "You better get that help hired." By the look on the pretty woman’s face, she considered that an impossibility on such short notice.
"No problem." Sam grinned. “I used the internet. That computer?” Everybody on the damn ranch was technophobic.
Kassie's brow furrowed with a mix of wonder and doubt. “It can do that?” The woman considered a computer nothing more than a very expensive typewriter. She'd used it to compile her cookbook, but Sam handled the electronic correspondence with the publisher for her.