by Ramy Vance
But no matter how much experience and intelligence you might have, someone like little ol’ moi will find a way to make you falter, and that was exactly what was happening now.
All that was left was to push him just that little bit more.
“Let me guess,” I said, “they never said anything about us getting married, but after centuries of watching me, you fell in love and convinced yourself that I’d do the same once I got to know you. So this little rendezvous … is it going as planned? Are my knees wobbling? Am I swooning? Tell me, archangel formerly known as Metatron, am I falling in love with you?”
I hit the you hard, lacing it with as much venomous hatred as I could. Which wasn’t hard, given that I really did hate this guy.
Enoch threw his arms up in the air, twirling on his heels in a way that made me think he was going to storm off. Wouldn’t that have been nice? But a guy like him doesn’t walk away from a fight. They turn to confront whomever is pissing them.
And that is exactly what he did. Good thing I was ready for him.
FRIENDS DON’T LET FRIENDS TIME TRAVEL
He turned around to look his aggravator in her beautiful, sky-blue eyes, but instead of being met by a shade of blue that makes you dream of rainbows (hey, I have amazing eyes, no sense in being humble about it), he was greeted by the same contact lens he’d used on me earlier.
What’s more, I forced both Egya and Deirdre to look me in the eyes, too, stimulating their greatest desires.
And currently, that desire was to be free of this asshole.
I held Enoch’s gaze as I said, “You two, get out of here.” I noted that Egya hadn’t transformed back. He was still in hyena form, which was both a good and bad thing.
Good because, as a hyena, he could bite. Something he did right away, snapping the Eye of Borvo out of Enoch’s hand. Bad because, as much as his constant cackling annoyed me, I could have really used some sort of witty quip right about now.
“Go,” I said, “before he does something else to you two.” I beckoned Deirdre over.
She took a few steps toward me. “But milady, I must stay by your side and—”
I pulled the pendant from around my neck and pressed it into her hand. “Deirdre, for the love of the GoneGods, just go.”
I heard Egya growl, and the pulling and ripping of fabric as he tugged at Deirdre. That was followed by reluctant footsteps and the slamming of a car door. They were in Egya’s car, driving away. But given that Egya had paws, I guessed Deirdre was the driver. She could barely ride the bus without incident, and I lamented any driver who got the full brunt of her road rage.
They were gone, which left Enoch and me alone. The Soul Jar was gone. Given all that, I was free to do what needed to be done.
I wasn’t entirely sure how the contact lens worked. It stimulated one’s desires, but I’d eventually broken out of its spell, which meant that he would, too.
Walking over to him, I unbuttoned the top two buttons of my blouse. I figured I’d fan the flames of his desire, and in a voice that was as sincere as my acting abilities allowed, I said, “You were right. We do belong together. We are one and the same, fates intertwined. Two souls, one destiny.” Yuck. But hey, these were exactly the kinds of words that got an angel going: fate, love, destiny.
Making love to an angel was the stuff of NC-17, steamy romance novels.
I took a step forward, reaching my hand out to him. He returned the gesture, his eyes misty with the anticipation of love finally requited.
Another step and I’d be next to him. He’s just a man, I kept saying to myself. He’s just a man. And men have snappable necks. I just needed to get close enough to—
But as soon as our fingers touched, I didn’t just feel his skin. I felt him. All of him. The world started to whirl as the two of us were transported to another realm.
No, not another realm … another time.
We were in the distant past. A time Enoch called “home.”
“Crap,” I mumbled as I stared around the sparse wooden shack. “More magic.”
PART II
INTERMISSION:
“Giants walk this Earth,” the wounded angel says, “but they should not.”
Enoch, the mortal human, is young, virile and strong. He is also crouched beside the largest angel he’s ever seen: Oche.
The massive angel grabs at his side, his hand over an open wound where light—an angel’s blood—pours out of him.
Enoch is a healer, but only for humans. He has no idea how to heal an angel.
Oche grunts in pain. “God did not wish for such creatures to be born. He did not ordain their existence. I am sure of it. But my brethren—” His words are cut off by a sudden and violent cough; spittles of light drip from his lips.
“You have internal bleeding,” Enoch says as he prepares his tourniquet. “I must close the wound for you to have any hope of surviving.”
Enoch pulls out the largest needle in his kit, a needle he fashioned from the bones of a whale that washed up on the shores near his village. He made it more as a pretty trinket than with any intent to use. Even though it is the size of his middle finger and as sharp as anything he’s ever made, he doubts it will be enough.
“Hold still,” Enoch says.
Oche tries to move. “I must return to the battle. Help my fellow warriors. I am a soldier in God’s army. I am—”
“A creature who is about to die. Do you understand me? You will die if you insist on moving.”
Oche returns Enoch’s gaze as if confused.
Enoch, for all the limitations of his mortality, understands. “Tell me, angel. What will happen to you should you die?”
Oche says nothing.
“Do you have a soul like humans do? Something that will usher you to the afterlife?”
Again, his question is met with silence.
“Is there even an afterlife for angels?”
Oche starts to speak, but quickly falls silent.
“From your silence, I gather that the answer is no, or perhaps you do not know. Either way, I suspect it is best you let me help you than gamble on your very existence.”
What Enoch does not add is that the mere act of this surgery is a gamble. He doubts the angel will live through the procedure, let alone the night.
Oche stares deep into Enoch’s eyes before nodding. “Very well.” The giant creature lays back down on the ground, and Enoch begins his arduous task of saving an angel’s life.
↔
The angel sits surprisingly still during the surgery. No easy feat, given Enoch has no herbs to dull the pain, no remedies to send this creature to sleep. The creature does wince and groan, but other than those minor expressions of pain, he doesn’t move a feather.
Once Enoch is done, he turns to Oche. “Does your kind sleep?”
“On occasion.”
“Then sleep.”
Oche does not close his eyes.
“Please,” Enoch begs. “You need to heal, and your body requires rest.”
Oche looks at the shack’s door.
“The war will still be here tomorrow,” Enoch says. “And you will be all the more capable of fighting then.”
In truth, Enoch doubts the angel will be here tomorrow. It is a miracle that he is still here now.
Eventually Oche nods, closing his eyes. Whether it is the exhaustion of battle or the toll of his wounds, the angel drifts to sleep almost as soon as his eyes close, leaving Enoch to clean his other wounds.
Deep slashes pierce the angel’s incredibly tough hide, bruises the size of boulders spotting his body.
“What kind of creature could inflict so much damage on one such as you, Oche?” Enoch murmurs.
↔
The next morning comes, and Oche’s eyes open with the light of dawn. The angel sits up, his head brushing against the roof of Enoch’s shack.
Enoch cannot hide his surprise. “I did not think this day would smile upon you.”
Oche winces, touching the wound on his side. Wh
ereas yesterday it was deep, today it looks little more than a scratch.
“God in Heaven.” Enoch’s head goes dizzy. “You are almost healed. How?”
“I am a soldier in God’s army. We are not so easily killed.”
“Still, whatever being that hurt you—”
“A giant,” Oche spits out. “A creature I have never seen before. But as we fought, I saw the holy symbol of Azazel on its neck.”
Oche speaks as if that explains all, but Enoch does not understand.
Oche grows impatient with Enoch’s ignorance of the ways of angels. “Only those sired by us can share our name. This creature, this unholy creation, must be Azazel’s child.” Oche shakes his head. “But it is forbidden for an angel to fornicate with a human. If my assertion is right, then Azazel has broken a holy law.”
“Such a union is possible?”
Oche nods. “It should not be, as it is forbidden, but many of my brethren chose to defy God’s will.”
“How? Why?” Enoch says. “God’s words are final. Who would dare defy Him?”
“I do not understand it myself. But what I do know with all my being is that war is coming between those loyal to God and those who chose human pleasures of eternal glory. War. And if more of those monsters should walk the Earth, I do not know if the side of light can prevail.”
↔
Oche stays with Enoch one more day and night, waiting until his wounds heal.
Once the angel is fully rested, he leaves Enoch’s hut. “Where will you go now?”
Oche points to the east. “Beyond that mountain is where the battle took place. I will go there, see what came of it and report back to the heavens above.”
“And should you encounter that creature again?”
“I will fight it.”
“Alone? You barely survived fighting it before. I suggest that your purpose be not to die this day, but to warn others.”
Oche contemplates the mortal’s words. The human is right. Still, to walk away from battle, a challenge … that goes against Oche’s very nature.
Unfurling his wings, Oche prepares to take to the sky. But in the moment before he leaves, he hears the mortal utter, “Take me with you.”
The mortal’s hands are clenched in fists as his body shakes with obvious fear. But there is also resolve in his eyes. “Take me with you. Should other angels be wounded, they will need me.”
Enoch does not wait for Oche’s response, running into his hut to gather his supplies. “Take me with you,” the brave human repeats. “Take me so that I may serve.”
↔
They return to the site of the battle. There are many wounded. Many dead. Enoch walks among the dead angels and remarks how their bodies look like the same empty shells, just like any human body. They even bleed. Granted, their blood is made of light, but still it stains their body.
But there is one difference: the expression on their faces. It is that of deep sadness. True despair.
Later, he will understand that death for an angel is final. There is no second life. There is no Heaven.
There is nothing.
Oche walks among the dead, tears of light streaming down his face. “I should have been here,” the angel says.
Enoch shakes his head. “With your wounds, you would have only perished with them. At least now you can avenge your fallen brethren.”
Oche pounds his chest with his left hand. “This I swear.”
A groan sounds. There among the dead is one angel. She sits upright, her back against a rock, her hand still on her sword. Oche immediately goes to her side. “Miral. Captain—you live.”
Miral looks up, and in her pain and delirium she struggles to focus on Oche. But as the two rush closer, she realizes that this is not a dream. One of her fellow angels has survived.
“How? How …” she manages. “I saw you fall from the sky.”
“I did. I would have perished had it not been for this human who found me. He saved me.”
Miral looks at the human, Enoch. “And your reward shall be the Kingdom of Heaven.”
“I need no reward,” Enoch says.
At this, Miral chuckles. “Need and deserve are often at odds.” Then, reaching a hand for Oche, “Help me up. Perhaps together we can—”
But before she can finish her thought, a great howl pierces the field. Enoch turns to see seven giants rushing from the forest, brandishing clubs made from broken tree trunks.
Behind them stands one unassuming boy. He looks like an ordinary human child, except his eyes are lit with an ancient wisdom beyond that of any mere mortal.
The child lets out a vicious cry of war as he points at Enoch and the angels. Immediately and without hesitation, the giants charge at them.
Oche picks up Miral’s sword. “Fools.” Then, faster than thought, he moves through them, slicing all seven giants with the Blade of God. All fall. “They blindly obey their master, even if it means death.”
“They are compelled to obey him.” Miral tries to stand. Her leg is severely broken, as is her left wing. She cannot walk. She cannot fly. She is helpless.
Oche turns the blade on the child who shows no fear. “You are next, child.”
“No,” Miral says. “You stand no chance. Run, Oche. Run.”
“Never.”
“I order you.”
“Then I disobey.” Oche has resigned himself to die this day. He is also determined to make it glorious.
But before he can foolishly attack the boy, a soft hand touches him. The human Enoch is standing by his side. “Give me the sword.”
“What?”
“Let me fight this abomination. Should I fall—when I fall,” Enoch corrects himself, “I will meet you in Heaven.”
Oche looks down, astonished by this human’s bravery.
“Please, help your fallen friend. I will distract the boy.”
Oche hesitates before nodding. There is much wisdom in the human’s words. Much wisdom, and even greater sacrifice.
He hands Enoch the sword and goes to Miral. Cradling her like a father would his child, he only takes a moment to say, “Thank you, Enoch. Your sacrifice will be forever remembered.”
And with that, Oche takes to the sky, leaving the human Enoch to face off against a creature that killed a legion of angels.
↔
Enoch has never held a sword before, but it seems simple enough. Stab the enemy with the pointy end.
He charges at the boy, who does not move. The child just waits for Enoch to get close and as the mortal swings the Blade of God at him, the child simply lifts one hand.
The sword—the Blade of God—is instantly transformed into a thousand butterflies that float away in the wind.
“What? How?” Enoch says.
The child’s eyes hollow out as he summons his magic. Then, putting a hand on the crown of Enoch’s head, Enoch feels a sharp pain as his mind is dug into. “Why do you fight for them?” the child asks.
“I fight for the righteous. I fight for God.”
“You know not what you fight for,” the child says. “You simply follow an old script handed to you.”
“And what do you fight for?” Enoch falls to his knees. His head feels as though it will shatter like a clay pot.
“I fight for everything,” the child says. And with those words, he squeezes. Enoch knows that he is about to die.
He knows that soon he will be with his God.
But just as the sweet release of death is about to take him, the child stops. His eyes cease their maniacal glow, returning to their normal state. He looks at Enoch with confusion as a single, human tear that is not made of light rolls down his cheek.
“You are my brother’s keeper,” the child says. True bewilderment envelops the child as he speaks.
“I know not your brother,” Enoch responds.
The child stares at Enoch, his expression a mixture of love and fear. “You are his keeper. You are his—”
The boy’s words are interru
pted by a blade thrusting out of his chest, and Enoch sees an angel of great stature standing behind him.
Lifting the skewered boy up, Enoch sees the child trying to summon more magic. But before he can, the angel uses his massive hand to crush his skull.
The child is dead.
“What did the Nephilim say to you?”
Enoch is so confused. What happened? Where did this angel come from? “Nothing. Nothing I … I understood.”
The angel nods. “More tricks. More lies, I am sure.” Then he smiles at Enoch. “Thank you, human, for distracting the creature. You allowed me to get close enough to end him. I am the archangel Michael, and I understand that it is because of you that both Miral and Oche live. You have done well. Come, there is someone who wishes to meet you.”
Michael outstretches his blood-soaked hand. Enoch hesitates before taking it in his.
As soon as he does, Michael takes to the sky, lifting Enoch with him as they ascend to Heaven.
End to Part 2
WHAT A ROMANTIC GETAWAY
“So that’s how you got your wings,” I said.
Enoch nodded. “I always admired your ability to quip during moments of intense emotion. It is both your greatest quality and your most grating quirk.”
“That’s me, a bundle of ‘what are we going to do with her?’ ” But the truth was, even I was surprised that I could joke at a moment like this. Not only had I seen Enoch’s creation—I’d felt it, too. As sure as I would have if I had been Enoch himself, I’d felt it.
And not only that moment, but all his moments. I knew everything this man had ever experienced. Not only experienced, but also felt, endured, thought … everything.
I was trying my best to not let the magnitude of that experience weaken me. Truth was, I didn’t know if I could. It was rare to experience something so intimate and then go right back to hero-nemesis banter.
Still, a girl’s gotta try.
“Looks like my stalker just got stalked,” I mused.
Enoch ignored me, still nostalgic. “Yes, that is exactly how I got my wings, as you put it. A living human cannot exist in Heaven for long. The mere magnitude of such a place weighs heavily, and the human mind … well, the human mind is not designed to be able to hold such things. So my reward for saving Oche was eternal life … up to a point. But I have long contemplated the events of that day and the days that came after. I suspect I was not being rewarded for saving the angel, but rather talking sense into him. Sense that ultimately led to the second of the two angel wars.”