“I know.” Michael nodded. “He cared for them very much, da bao. Their love of him as their uncle—adopted, to be sure—meant a very great deal to him. We all loved them, in truth. They will live on forever in our hearts and our memories. So long as we remember them, they will never truly be lost.”
“You’re a poet, solnyshko.” Gabriel smiled and felt a little better.
“A poor one, one thinks.” Michael smiled in return. “You could see them in Heaven, if you so wished.”
“Aye. I just… I’m not sure I can, yet.”
“I understand.” Michael let go of Gabriel’s hand and slid his arm around Gabriel’s waist. Gabriel leaned into him and slipped his own arm around Michael’s shoulders, and the two walked together along the edge of the surf as it lapped hungrily at the golden sands.
SAMAEL laid the small bunch of wildflowers he had gathered on the grave. “Be at peace, beloved Mira and John,” he said.
Haniel, Metatron, and Remiel stood to one side, their faces solemn. Samael stepped back and looked at his companions. “They are with God.”
It was not a question, but Metatron answered it anyway. “Yes.” He stepped forward and laid an arm around Samael’s shoulders. “I do not envy you, having to guide their souls.”
“Guiding the souls of those I have loved is always difficult,” Samael reflected, “but this was the hardest task I have ever endured. I loved—love—them both very much.”
“And they loved you.” Haniel moved closer, to stand on the other side of Samael, and rested his hand on Samael’s shoulder. “Very much. They will always be happy to see you when you go to Heaven.”
“That is a small comfort.” Samael smiled sadly. “I do not know that I will be able to do that for some time yet, however.”
“We understand.” Remiel looked at the lonely grave. “It’s always harder to visit our loved ones upstairs.”
“It is.” Samael frowned. “And yet I do not understand why that is so. There is no pain in Heaven, no sorrow, no hardship. There is joy and there is love. Why, then, is it so difficult to see our beloved dead in our realm?”
“Because it is our realm.” Metatron’s deep voice was soft. “We are accustomed to the Land of Light—Heaven—and it is the land in which we were made, in which we lived for eons with only others of our kind. Before God made humans, the Land of Light was our domain, our home. The one place where we could shed these human shapes we wear and be our true selves. And with all homes, there are places that could do with some housecleaning.”
Samael blinked and then he chuckled. “I see what you mean. We are uninhibited in Heaven. Humans have a difficult time seeing that.”
“Yes.” Haniel laughed softly. “I have found that, for myself, keeping my small part of the Land of Light closed to all who are not angelkind is the only way to ensure that I am not discomfited. There is, to continue Metatron’s analogy, a lot of dust in the corners.”
“They have their own little worlds in Heaven,” Remiel added. “They do not need to see ours.”
“And that is another reason it is hard for us.” Metatron nodded. “Our spaces are ours. Human souls are newcomers to the Land of Light. We are sometimes churlish and inhospitable to these new residents, for we are old and we are set in our ways. God teaches us even when we leave the Earth and spend time in Heaven. We are ever His children, be we angel, monster, or human.”
Samael smiled. “You are wise, beloved Metatron. And you also, beloved Haniel and Remiel. Thank you.”
“Do you feel a bit better?” Remiel asked.
“I find that I do.” Samael’s smile grew. “I shall strive to make my own corner of the Land of Light more acceptable so that I may receive visitors.”
“There, you see?” Metatron beamed. “It isn’t as bad as you thought.”
“I am humbled by your counsel.” Samael inclined his head respectfully. “However, I fear that Gabriel will not be so open to it.”
“Gabriel is anger and rage.” Metatron shrugged. “He will come to the same conclusion eventually, but he needs to work through the rage. Michael will help him, of this I am sure.”
“I am glad.” With a thoughtful expression, Samael gazed at the simple grave. “It grieves me, though, to see this gravesite so… unadorned.”
“What did you have in mind?” Haniel asked.
“Perhaps some flowers—Mira was ever fond of wild roses and lavender. And perhaps a horse sanctuary, to honor John’s love and care of those creatures.”
“You honor them both,” Metatron said.
“I like it.” Remiel looked around. “Haniel, give me a hand. We’ll set up fences and stuff and get a horse sanctuary going. A place where the wild horses of the land can live safely.”
“When you say ‘give me a hand’, you do mean with my power and not with a hammer and nails, right?”
Remiel laughed. “Hani, I’ve seen you use tools. You’re useless with them. Yeah, I mean with your power. It’ll be quicker and more secure that way.”
“Good.” Haniel walked over to join Remiel, and the two of them began to discuss the dimensions of the sanctuary.
“And while they do that, you and I shall bring roses and lavender here to border their grave,” Metatron said to Samael.
“Thank you,” Samael said. “I hope Gabriel will not be offended.”
“As I said,” Metatron said with a shrug, “he is rage, and he needs to work through that at his own pace. He’ll be okay in a while.”
“All right.” Samael let himself be comforted by Metatron’s words. “Then let us do this.”
Metatron clapped Samael’s shoulder companionably, and the Archangels got to work.
SOPHIEL eyed the stack of reports with an expression of horror on her face. Tzadkiel hid his amusement at her reaction behind a cough.
“This is the summary of everything?” Sophiel pointed at the pile, which was stacked neatly in one corner of Tzadkiel’s palatial apartment and was almost as tall as she was.
“Yeah.” Tzadkiel grinned. “Believe me, it was bigger.”
“Bigger?” Sophiel gaped at him in shock.
“Well, yeah, I had to make a start on it. I couldn’t wait until you two got here.” Tzadkiel sat back in his armchair. “There’s no good reason to ignore it.”
“You could set it on fire, boss,” Brieus suggested. He was eyeing the pile with an enormous lack of enthusiasm.
Tzadkiel laughed then, long and loud. “Relax, you two. I’ve assigned it to three of my Ophanim. They’ll be here directly to collect it.”
Brieus let out an explosive breath. “You’re a bastard. Boss.”
“Hey, your reactions were damn priceless!” Tzadkiel laughed again. “Sophiel, you should see your face!”
“I am burning it.” Sophiel tossed her long black hair back. “That was mean, boss. Really mean!”
“Don’t burn it.” Tzadkiel stood up and moved to her and Brieus. He rested a hand on each of their shoulders, looking from one to the other and back again with an unblinking gaze. “It’s been seventy years since any of us laughed, my dear ones. You two have been with me day and night through this entire farcical war. Okay, it wasn’t the best joke ever made, but we have to start somewhere, right? We can’t be doom and gloom forever. It’s not healthy and it’s depressing.” He gave them both a little shake. “I have one folder. One. We’ll go through it together, have some beer and pizza, then make a final report and send copies to the rest of the Archangels. Then we’ll relax. We all deserve it.”
Sophiel opened her mouth, then closed it again. She seemed to sag, and she nodded, looking down, her hair falling in a dark curtain over her face. Brieus and Tzadkiel exchanged a look, and then the two of them hugged her tight.
“I’m sorry,” Sophiel said in a muffled voice. “I overreacted.”
“Shh, it’s okay.” Tzadkiel rubbed her back. “It’s been a hard road, I know. I’m sorry my joke was so crappy.”
She gave a shaky laugh and slowly pulled
back. “I’ll get you back later.”
Tzadkiel nodded. “I’m counting on it.” He smiled and ruffled her hair. “Now, let’s get this summary report out of the way.”
“That’s a great idea.” Brieus sat down and Sophiel sat beside him. Tzadkiel picked up a slim folder from his desk by the window and returned to his armchair. Before they could begin, there was a trio of pops in the air and three angels appeared.
“Ah, good.” Tzadkiel nodded at the newcomers. “The reports are over there.”
The angels nodded in reply and silently moved to the stack. Between them, they gathered up the pile, and then they vanished.
“Efficient,” Brieus approved.
“Of course,” Tzadkiel said with more than a touch of pride in his voice. “My Ophanim are always efficient. As you two should know.”
They grinned at him. “The day you promoted me to your lieutenant was one of the best in my life,” Sophiel said. All traces of her earlier discontent were gone now, and she tucked her legs beneath herself as she got comfortable on the sofa.
“Mine too, actually.” Brieus slouched a little as he also got comfortable.
“Oh yeah? Well. Thank you.” Tzadkiel was pleased. He used his power to fix a pot of tea and bring it and cups over to the coffee table. He poured a cup for each of them and took a sip of his before sitting back and opening the folder.
“So what changed in the world?” Sophiel sipped her tea.
“That’s actually a really good question.” Tzadkiel was scanning the report, his eyes wide. “Wow.”
“Wow? Good wow or bad wow?” Brieus raised an eyebrow.
“Wow wow.” Tzadkiel took a sip of his tea. “Wow,” he said again. “The geography of the planet has changed quite a bit. Some islands have sunk, others have risen up. Some parts of the world have been wiped out entirely. Some places that were part of large landmasses are now islands, like Alaska, for example.”
“Wow,” Sophiel echoed.
“According to Raziel’s summary, yeah.” Tzadkiel took a deep breath.
Sophiel shook her head. “I can’t believe it. Did we do this? Or the demons?”
“Both.” Tzadkiel read the rest of the report. “I wish I’d looked through this earlier today when I received it. Damn.”
“Is any continent unscathed?” Brieus asked.
“Ah….” Tzadkiel read through the list. “No. No, every continent was hit by something.”
“Fucking hell,” Brieus said in a hushed voice.
“Fighting was intense in some parts of the world,” Sophiel said. “I suppose it stands to reason there’d be some attrition.”
“There has been a lot of death and destruction,” Brieus said. “I think that’s a bit more than attrition, Soph.”
She shook her head. “I know, Bri. I’m a little scared to visit my beloved Japan, to be honest.” Her voice caught and she stopped speaking as she swallowed hard and closed her eyes for a moment. When she reopened them, they were glassy with unshed tears. “How many dead?”
Tzadkiel looked at her, feeling a great compassion for his lieutenant. “In total?”
“Yes.”
Tzadkiel took a deep breath. “Two billion worldwide.”
“Holy crap,” Brieus gasped. “That’s just under a third of the world’s population!”
“I know.” Tzadkiel imagined his own expression mirrored the stunned shock on the faces of his two lieutenants. “Raz says there’s going to be a lot of economic upheaval and a period of hardship as the world adjusts to losing so many citizens and so much land, and figures out how to renew its ecology and its food and water sources.”
“This… is going to take longer to recover from than the war itself took.” Sophiel set down her teacup and wrung her hands together, her face showing her distress. “What can we do?”
“Nothing.” Tzadkiel hated how hopeless he felt. “Orders are that we’re to provide assistance when it’s most needed, but that humanity has to fend for itself.”
“They’re going to blame us.” Brieus’s voice was serious.
“I know,” Tzadkiel said again, and his face was grim. “We’re going to have to disappear from human view again, I think. I know that won’t be a problem for the vast majority of our kind, but some of us do move around in human societies. It might be wise to change our humanoid appearances.”
Brieus snorted derisively. “They won’t do it. The other Archangels, I mean. You’ve all been your shapes for decades, centuries in some cases. You’re attached to how you look. It’d be easier to go back in time and save those people than it would be to get the others to change their forms.”
Tzadkiel sighed and rubbed his face. Brieus was right, he knew. He shook his head and set the report down, leaning back in his chair. “Then we’ll all have to be very, very careful.”
“Do you need me for the rest of the day, boss?” Sophiel asked.
“Hm? Oh, no, you can go. I understand you want to see things for yourself and see what you can do.” Tzadkiel gestured to the door. “Go. I’ll see you this evening.”
Sophiel got to her feet, and her form blurred for a moment as she used her power to change into a simple pair of blue jeans and a dark-gray T-shirt. “Thank you,” she said. Then she vanished.
Brieus shook his head and drained his teacup. “I thought it might be bad,” he said, nodding at the report, “but I would never have imagined just how bad. Raphael will probably take this personally, you know.”
Tzadkiel groaned. “Shit, I didn’t think of that. He probably will, too. I hope his lover can buoy him a little.”
Brieus quirked an eyebrow. “Who’s his lover?”
“Israfel.” Tzadkiel suddenly laughed. “Didn’t you know?” As Brieus shook his head that no, he didn’t, Tzadkiel grinned. “Israfel, Angel of Music and self-proclaimed party-hard angel, is the beloved of Raphael, Archangel of Medicine. It’s an odd match that seems to work very well.”
Brieus snorted at that. “No more odd than Raziel and Uriel, or Gabriel and Michael. We do seem drawn to form relationships with partners of our kind who are almost polar opposites of our own personalities.”
“That’s a good point.” Tzadkiel felt a little better gossiping about the love lives of the Archangels. Raziel’s report had shocked him to the core, and he knew that soon he’d be flying over Earth and investigating the changes for himself. His heart felt heavy as he imagined giant craters, sunken islands, newly made islands, and the deaths of so many humans.
“Boss,” Brieus said then, leaning forward and touching Tzadkiel’s knee, “you’ll brood forever about it if we don’t go investigate it and see for ourselves.”
Tzadkiel started at hearing his own thoughts voiced by Brieus. “What do you mean?”
“Raziel’s report of international death and loss. Let’s go take a look for ourselves. Besides, you need to do a final report for the other Archangels, right? So we can check things out and make a report together.”
Tzadkiel smiled. “You’re right. Thank you, Brieus. It’s better than sitting here and trying not to brood about it. And Sophiel will be a while, anyway.”
“Exactly.” Brieus stood and unfurled his wings. The dark-gray feathers shimmered with good health. “So let’s go make a survey, then put it all into some perspective. And maybe, even with all the death and destruction, the humans won’t be taking it all so badly. They’re amazingly resilient.”
“That’s true too.” Tzadkiel stood as well and unfurled his own wings. “All right, Lieutenant, let’s do that.”
TZADKIEL and Brieus walked around the edges of a crater, stunned into silence. Nothing living remained. The crater was scorched earth, black and dead. Nothing would grow here, nothing could live here—at least, not as far as Tzadkiel could tell. A breeze blowing in stirred up little eddies of ash and dust, and Tzadkiel shielded his eyes with one hand as he looked across the crater with his power, seeking out the borders of it.
There were signs, he noticed, warning people
to keep away, that the ground wasn’t safe. It probably hadn’t been at the time the crater formed, the earth shuddering and groaning beneath the weight of intense fighting between angels and demons before it finally gave out and sank in on itself, dying as ignoble a death as the angels who had perished here.
Tzadkiel could feel that too. Thousands of angels, trodden into dust by the combat. He walked around the rim a little farther.
Local troops were patrolling the area, and they regarded him warily as he approached, arms outstretched to show he was unarmed. He could sense Brieus behind him as he spoke to the soldiers. They answered him readily enough, but Tzadkiel could tell they were uneasy in his presence, so he cut his conversation short and walked back to Brieus.
“How are they taking it?” Brieus asked.
“Pretty well.” Tzadkiel shook his head, amazed. “The tenacity and the determination to survive and rebuild that humans have is awe-inspiring.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. They said they took in a lot of refugees once the fighting started. Mostly farmers, peasants, families. They’re all shell-shocked, but they’re being cared for, and they’ll be given homes.” Tzadkiel looked away from the crater and over the healthy landscape beyond. “Politics be damned, they still help each other in a crisis.”
“Humans are remarkable creatures,” Brieus said.
Tzadkiel let out a slow breath. “I hope the rest of the world has been just as compassionate.”
“I think that some will be more, some will be less, but it’ll balance out.” Brieus looked back at the crater. “Is it totally dead? I mean, will anything ever grow there?”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t think so.” Tzadkiel shook his head. “I’ll ask Raziel when I see him.”
Brieus nodded and squared his shoulders. “So, shall we move on?”
“Yes,” Tzadkiel agreed.
At the end of a very long and very emotional day, Tzadkiel and Brieus returned to Tzadkiel’s apartment. Tzadkiel had found Brieus’s initial estimation of humans to be more or less correct—some had been unable to put aside long-held differences, but overall, the urge to help those in dire need had won out over old prejudices. It gave Tzadkiel hope for the future, hope that perhaps the world would be a better place for everyone.
No Surrender, No Retreat Page 3