by C. L. Coffey
“I cannot forgive you, Michael,” Lucifer said quietly. “To forgive you would acknowledge that what you did was right, what I did was wrong, and that is not the case either. But don’t worry: the time will come when I will be able to grant your forgiveness: when you realize that I was right all along.”
Lucifer finally fell limp in Michael’s arms, and I knew that he had finally died. Gently, Michael laid his body down on the ground, pulled the sword from his stomach and placed it to rest next to him, treating it like it weighed much more than I knew it did. It had finally turned black.
I turned away unable to watch Michael crying any longer, and glanced up at the Michael whose hand I was holding. At the sight of the tear on his cheek, his eyes still closed against the scene in front of him, my heart broke. I shifted my fingers so that mine were laced through his and gently turned him around so his back was to his memory.
When I first met Michael all that time ago he had seemed wise beyond his years, and I didn’t mean old as time. My first impression put him around thirty, though I later discovered his vessel was closer to twenty-five. Right now, he looked much, much younger.
He sucked in one last deep, shuddering breath, before finally opening his eyes to look at me. His expression was… Hesitant. “I’m sorry,” I apologized. I honestly felt horrible. “I never wanted you to have to relive this. I should have listened and just dropped it when you told me. I should have trusted you.”
“Yes, you should have trusted me,” Michael agreed. “But you are not at fault for me reliving this. This is one of the consequences of my actions. I’ll never stop reliving this. Unfortunately, neither will you.” His words sank in. The fact I had just witnessed something that had happened so many years ago, still fresh in his mind, apparently a small part of me did think I would eventually stop thinking about Lilah.
Something must have flashed across my face to make this thought evident to Michael, because he gave my hand a squeeze. “I won’t lie to you, Angel. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to, which is why I’m going to tell you this,” he told me. He paused, and took another deep breath. “I think it will be worse for you.”
I felt like someone had punched me, and winded me. I had reached the limit on just how much pain I could take over this, I didn’t think I could take anything more, anything worse. I stared helplessly at Michael. “Worse?” My voice was nothing more than a squeak.
Michael gave me a sad smile as he nodded. He gently tugged his hand free of the death grip I had imposed on him, before wrapping his hands around my waist. “Angel, the fact you killed a human alone would have been enough. For an archangel it is more than enough, but it’s the fact that it’s you. You are compassionate, indomitable to the point of stubborn, and despite how you go about it, you are determined to do the right thing. All of these things made you an extraordinary human, and they will make you be a truly impressive angel, but it also means that the burden you carry will be that much greater.”
That logic seemed backwards and unfair, but on the other hand I had killed someone. Multiple someones. The guilt and the pain would never be enough to pay for what I’d done. As far as punishments went, I deserved worse. I closed my eyes and nodded resolutely, opening them when Michael’s hand cupped my cheek, surprising me. “Don’t look like that,” Michael begged me.
I frowned. “Like what?”
“Like you think you deserve this. Like you deserve this and more,” Michael whispered.
I gave him a puzzled look. “You don’t think I deserve this?” I asked him slowly.
“No,” he said simply. He dropped his hand. “Sleep helps,” he said, changing the subject. “You will have the dreams – you will never stop having the dreams – but you will not feel the pain like you do when you live it when you are awake. You must also eat, even when you do not feel like it. It is true you do not need food like you used to when you were human. If this had not happened you could afford to skip a week of meals, but right now you need the nourishment. You will always need that nourishment. They will both help, even if it does not seem like it. Trust me, Angel.”
CHAPTER TEN
A New Type of Lesson
I was showered, dressed in my workout clothes, and waiting patiently on my bed for Cupid. He bounded into my room, a sign things had gone back to normal, and stopped short when he saw me waiting.
“You’re up?” Cupid asked, blinking at me in surprise.
I nodded my head and got off the bed. “What can I say? I woke up with a sudden feeling that it was time somebody else was the best at archery.”
The surprised look which had been plastered on Cupid’s face was quickly replaced with a grin. “Far to go you have, little one,” Cupid told me, with a truly terrible Yoda impression which had me cracking up.
I followed Cupid down to the dining hall where I piled my plate up: eggs, bacon, biscuits and gravy, sausage patties – the works. I even added in pieces of fruit for good measure. I sat down opposite Cupid – his breakfast consisted only of a small bowl of Lucky Charms – and couldn’t help but laugh at his expression as he stared at the food piled high on my plate. I shrugged at him, “I have a few meals to catch up on.” Cupid watched me with mild amusement as I wolfed the meal down, and then we made our way to the gymnasium.
The gymnasium was a very long room. Stretching down one side were windows overlooking the garden. The opposite wall was covered in floor-to-ceiling mirrors. It was split in two by a glass wall: the first half of the hall was a big open space, big enough for a basketball court, while the back half was filled with a selection of equipment one would expect to find in a gym.
Cupid and I bypassed both sections and went outside where a target was already set up waiting for us. It was early but the sun was high in the sky, and I knew that we were in for yet another hot and humid day. This summer was dragging on and there would be a lot of people who would be waiting impatiently for it to finish.
I made my way to a table at the opposite end of the garden to the target. Cupid had already been outside and brought my bow with him, along with the protective gear. It had been a while since I had worn any of this, but I hadn’t forgotten how to put it on. Cupid watched approvingly as I did so. I strapped the small quiver to my thigh, and brushed my hand over the top of the pure white feathers. Cupid had once told me that the feathers were angel feathers. I hadn’t believed him. Now, having held Lucifer’s feathers, I did believe it. I just didn’t want to think about how they had been acquired.
Finally, I turned to my bow, and picked it up. I could feel the power humming through it as I did so and for some reason, a calming feeling rushed through me. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got,” Cupid told me.
My last archery lessons hadn’t been so successful. At forty feet from the target, while the majority of arrows had hit the target, the majority also hadn’t been fired with enough strength that the arrows sank in. Cupid led me further forward, close to the target, and then stood back.
I turned sideways, and firmly planted my feet slightly apart, before bringing the bow up level and taking aim. When I was confident with my position I pulled an arrow from the quiver. There was something magical about the quiver. In it the arrows looked more like toys, sitting half size. Once extracted, they doubled in length in my hand. I carefully nocked it in place and then resumed the position, taking aim at the target.
I sucked in a deep breath, and then, exhaling slowly, I released the arrow. It shot through the air and planted itself right in the bull’s eye. I dipped the bow and started to turn to Cupid, but he was already beside me swiping at the back of my thighs. “Keep that bow up!” he barked at me.
“But I hit the target! I got a bull’s eye!” I pointed out.
“I don’t care if your arrow found a dodo,” Cupid returned, as I raised my bow, keeping it trained at target. “You’re not human anymore. Archery is not a pastime. Not for us anyway. Those precious seconds wasted between lowering and raising that bow could mean the difference betw
een life and death. You keep it up until you know for certain it is safe to lower it again.”
I kept my bow raised, my arms steady, and looked at Cupid. “Are you going to ignore that bull’s eye?” I asked him.
Cupid stern gaze met mine and then he grinned. “Okay, for you, that was pretty impressive. However, I’m not worried. Consistency was never your strong point.”
Cupid wiggled his eyebrows and I accepted the challenge. The rest of the morning was spent with Cupid increasing the distance from target, and playing with the angle. Although I wasn’t getting a bull’s eye with every hit, my arrows were hitting the inner ring and sinking in every time. I was actually feeling very proud of myself.
“Cupid has competition,” Raphael’s voice rang clearly across the garden accompanied by applause, as my final arrow hit the bull’s eye. His presence startled me. I hadn’t realized I had an audience. Thankfully I kept my bow up. I glanced at Cupid and he nodded his head. I lowered my weapon, finally seeking the source of the voice. Both Raphael and Michael were watching me.
Cupid and I quickly gathered up the arrows and returned them to my quiver, before joining the two archangels. “She’s learning,” Cupid agreed, patting my head. “But I have to see how she does with moving targets before I get worried,” he added.
I ducked out of the way of Cupid’s hand and glared at him good-naturedly. “She is right here,” I told him. “And she has every intention of stealing that title from you.”
“I hope to see this much enthusiasm for me later this afternoon,” Raphael beamed. At my puzzled expression his smile widened. “I will be working on your swordsmanship with you.”
I didn’t have a problem with that, but it certainly wasn’t what I was expecting. With an eyebrow raised I turned to Michael finally looking at him for the first time since our dream encounter. “I thought you were training me again?” I asked him.
“Raphael is here for only a short time,” he responded. “We decided to utilize his time here and get him to train you in areas he has more experience with.”
There were areas of swordsmanship that Raphael was better at than Michael? I was struggling to buy that. “I guess I’m all yours,” I said to Raphael, hoping he would be more lenient than Michael, or, at the very least, wouldn’t have me running on a treadmill all afternoon.
“I do have something else planned for you before then,” Michael added.
“Okay,” I responded slowly. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it had he responded normally, but he was acting strangely. He was fidgeting. If I didn’t know any better I would have sworn he was nervous. It dawned on me that last night he had shared something very personal. He was probably nervous… nervous I’d blab something to these two. I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile, and then glanced back at Cupid, just in time to see him sharing a look with Raphael. “What?” I asked suspiciously.
Cupid quickly shook his head, before wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “Nothing for you to worry about,” he assured me. “It is time you got changed anyway.”
“Changed?” I repeated, uncertainly. The something else which Michael had planned, I was sure it involved a lot of running on a treadmill. I didn’t need to get changed for that.
“Just come with me,” Cupid instructed me, a grin plastered on his face.
He started to lead me back into the gym, but I resisted. “What about my bow?” I asked him. “I thought I had to return it to the armory?”
“I will take care of your weapons,” Raphael promised me. “You need to get a move on, or you’ll be late.”
Before I could question Cupid further, he had clamped a hand around mine and transported me to a bedroom. I stumbled slightly although this time it was from the surprise of being transported, rather than from a wave of nausea. I was happy to discover the lack of nausea with Michael hadn’t just been because of the dream.
I recovered my balance and glanced around the room, not recognizing it. It was green. From the pale green paint on the walls, to the deep emerald green of the plush carpet below my feet. Even the bedspread and matching curtains had green stripes. I had the sudden sensation of being in the middle of a forest. “Where are we?”
“Welcome to my bedroom,” Cupid grinned, clearly enjoying my surprise.
“What am I doing in your bedroom?” I demanded, still completely mystified as to what was happening.
“Well first of all, you’re using my shower,” Cupid informed me as he began ushering me towards one of the doors. He pulled it open and pushed me inside. Cupid’s bathroom was much plainer than his bedroom. It was laid out exactly like Michael’s, only he had chosen to accessorize it with the same green theme as his bedroom.
My hands found my hips as I turned to glare at Cupid. “Is there something wrong with my own shower?” I scowled. “And more importantly, why all this fuss? It’s just a lesson with Michael.”
“I know it is,” Cupid agreed. When he realized my intention was to glower at him, he leaned around me and turned the shower on. “If I’d have known you were going to be so resistant, I would have finished my lesson with you sooner. We are working to a schedule, so hurry up and get showered.”
“A schedule for what exactly?” I pressed.
“Will you just get in the shower already?” Cupid insisted, backing away towards the door. “You have ten minutes.”
He closed the door behind me leaving me alone in his bathroom. Figuring I could spare thirty seconds, I started pulling open his cupboards, snooping. Whatever I was expecting, I was quickly disappointed. The contents of his cupboards were surprisingly ordinary. I pulled off my gym clothes and got in the shower.
Just under ten minutes later I re-entered Cupid’s bedroom wrapped in a towel. Before I could ask him what he wanted with me now, he had ushered me towards his desk and sat me down in front of it. He produced my make-up bag and a small mirror, and handed them over. “You do your make-up; I will do your hair.”
Using the mirror I frowned up at him. “Cupid, what is going on?”
“I told you,” he said, rummaging around in a desk drawer. He produced a hairdryer, which earned him an arched eyebrow from me. “We are on a tight schedule. Now, please, hurry up and put some make-up on that pretty face of yours.” And with that, he turned the hairdryer on, and attacked my hair, drowning out any possibility of further questions. I sighed but did as he asked.
Between the two of us I was done in eight minutes. As soon as Cupid set the hairdryer down I turned to him, swiveling on the chair to face him. “Are you going to give me any clues?”
“Why do you need any clues? You are getting changed for your lesson with Michael,” Cupid shrugged.
I gave Cupid a skeptical look. “A lesson which requires me getting ready in your room, and having my hair done? Do I need to change my name to Eliza Doolittle?” Cupid chuckled, and shook his head. Instead of answering, he grabbed my hand and led me to his bed. Laid out on it, freshly pressed, were the fitted jeans I’d worn last night, and a deep green cashmere sweater that I’d had in the back of the wardrobe and had yet to find the occasion to wear, its tag still attached. My eyes fell on the pile of underwear next to the clothes, and I turned to Cupid in bewilderment. “Now you’re dressing me? Seriously, Cupid ... exactly what is this lesson?”
“We can talk while you get dressed,” he told me waving his arms about to indicate I should do just that. “Chop, chop.”
“How about you turn around then?" I suggested, giving him a pointed glare.
“Honey, you are really not my type,” Cupid told me, rolling his eyes. He did however turn around. I began pulling the clothes on. “Consider this your sophomore class in angelology.”
“Will that also explain why this faff and trouble is needed to get dressed?”
I glanced over my shoulder just in time to catch Cupid shrugging. “Call it a field trip,” he suggested.
While I was still in the process of trying to earn my wings to become an angel it had become pretty app
arent to all involved that I didn’t have a clue about anything related to angels. One night, Cupid and Veronica had taken me out and explained everything I thought I needed to know. Apparently there was more? Why couldn’t Cupid take me out again? I had a strong feeling that this lesson would not involve the Macarena like the last one had.
I was fastening the zipper on my last boot when Cupid turned around, grabbed my hand, and transported me out of his bedroom. We landed and he let go of my hand before I could catch my balance. I stumbled forward and slammed into a wall. Only, when the wall reached out to steady me, I realized the wall was a chest. A flash of déjà vu hit me as I looked up and found Michael staring down at me. My mouth fell open in what I am sure was a very undignified and unladylike manner, as I stared at the archangel in front of me.
Michael was wearing jeans. Albeit, they were probably expensive designer jeans that looked like they had been tailored specifically for him and showed off the muscles in his very defined thighs. Regardless, he was in jeans. I didn’t think he knew what they were, much less owned a pair. But wow, they looked good on him. Accompanying them was a cream woolen sweater, half hidden under a dark brown jacket, the combination of both doing wonders for his eyes. Eyes which were steadily fixed on me.
“Nearly ready,” Cupid announced. I glanced back at him to discover he had a stupid grin on his face. “But she is all yours.” Then he disappeared.
Left alone with Michael in his study, I turned back to him, and stared expectantly at him, waiting for him to explain exactly what was going on. “You should put a coat on.”
I looked at his outfit, looked down mine, and then glanced out of the window at the bright sunlight. I’d been outside less than hour ago and the temperature had already been in the late 90s. The last thing I needed, whether I felt the heat or not, was a coat. “Seeing that you don’t have a television, and you can’t watch the Weather Channel, it may have escaped your notice that today really isn’t a day you need a coat on,” I pointed out.