by Kyoko M
He didn’t say anything when I knelt in front of him and wrapped my good arm around his neck, leaning his forehead against my shoulder, cradling him as best as I could. He never made a sound, but I felt the hot tears on my skin.
“I’m sorry, Michael,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
He moved, slowly, as if every movement hurt because it did. He encircled me with his quivering arms and clung to me as if I were his anchor and he were lost at sea. Now we both were and there was no north star because Gabriel was gone.
Gone.
BOOK SEVEN: VALKYRIE
What you seek is nowhere, if you look away
You lose what you love. What you see is a shadow,
A reflected image, and has nothing of its own.
It comes with you and it stays with you,
And it will go with you, if you are able to go.
-Metamorphoses Book II, Ovid
CHAPTER TWENTY
JORDAN
It began with a long, mournful note from a violin.
A viola joined it. Two. Then three. A cello next.
They hushed. A clarinet followed with muted yet beautiful sounds. The strings rejoined it shortly. The music swelled and swallowed the sanctuary in a funeral dirge. It sounded masterful from here and must have been ten times more impressive from the pews.
I sat curled around the rafters, my legs dangling over the edge of the beam, forty feet above the floor. Candles lit the entire cathedral—no artificial light in sight. Everything looked golden now—the walls, the stained glass windows, the flowers, the choir, and even Gabriel’s body resting at the altar.
My good arm held me steady, wrapped around the beam for support, while my other one was in a sling. The bullet had torn through most of the tendons and cracked my bones into shards. I probably wouldn’t retain full use of the limb, not even if Raphael had the time to take a look at it.
The opening music to the funeral finally faded. No one clapped. No one had the strength to, after all. Everything just seemed to stop, as if his death suspended us in a place without time. We were all lost now without him. Michael had been the sword, but Gabriel had been the shield—there to protect, to encourage, to believe, to have faith. Who could do that now? Who could give hope to the hopeless and life to the dead at heart?
The bishop walked up to the altar for the opening prayer. His voice was weathered and shaky as his blue eyes beheld Gabriel’s bloodless face. He was reading something, but I couldn’t hear him because my ears were filled with the archangel’s words to me the night after we met.
Someone knocked at the door. I jumped backwards so hard that I ran into the table, skidding it a few inches across the carpet. I rested a hand on my chest as my heart pounded so hard that it hurt. Calm down. The man in the grey duster had stopped the evil spirit that came after me. It couldn’t be another one. Monsters don’t knock.
My fingers trembled as I reached for the doorknob. I kept the pistol in my other hand, hidden behind my back. I cracked the door enough to see who was standing there. A ridiculously tall, handsome man with short blond hair and blue eyes, dressed in a light grey suit.
The archangel Gabriel.
Memories from the night before crowded my head. The ghost. The gunshot. Blood, so much blood, everywhere, on my hands, on my cheek.
I stumbled away from the door, panicked. “Y-You? What do you want? Please, don’t kill me. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, I swear!”
The angel pushed the door all the way open and held his hands up in surrender. “No, you’ve got it all wrong, my dear. I’m not here to hurt you. I promise.”
“H-How did you find me?”
He offered a small smile. “I have a lot of abilities, my child. Finding Seers is one of them.”
He reached behind him and nudged the door shut, his other hand still raised in supplication. “Now then, would you be so kind as to put the firearm away? You have my word that I won’t harm you.”
“F-Fine.” I wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeve and set the gun on the table. If he wanted to kill me, he’d have done it last night. I was probably safe for now. I’d left my old apartment with essentials only and fled to a hotel just in case anyone heard the gunshot and found out about the man I accidentally killed. I couldn’t risk sticking around town much longer, but I needed time to gather my things and relocate. I’d hoped that disappearing soon enough would mean the angel couldn’t find me, but obviously that had been a pipe dream.
I curled up on the couch, wrapping my arms around my knees, glancing nervously up at him. “What do you want, then?”
“It is also my job to occasionally check in on new Seers,” he said, finally lowering his arms. “And…I was worried about you. Last night was…unfortunate. I cannot imagine how you must feel.”
“Worried?” I said, frowning. “But you saw what I did. I killed someone.”
He walked over and sat next to me. I flinched, edging towards the other side of the couch. He made no move to get closer. “You were frightened. You didn’t know that he was chasing after the malevolent spirit. You acted in self-defense. I am sure there are many people who would not find you guilty.”
“But not God,” I said, unable to keep from sounding bitter.
He winced. “Indeed. What you must understand is that your situation is not out of revenge. It’s…equivalent exchange. A Seer’s life is worth more than you know. You will come to find out soon enough that they are rare and must be protected. I know your damnation seems unfair, but it is law. A life for a life.”
“What happens if I die before I complete the debt? I go to Hell?”
He sighed, closing his eyes. “Yes, I am afraid so.”
“I can’t believe this,” I mumbled, burying my face in my knees. “God hates me. I knew it. I knew it the second my mom died.”
Silence. Then, a gentle weight on the crown of my head, just like last night. His hand was so large and yet it wasn’t heavy somehow. “Jordan, look at me. Please.”
It took me a moment, but I finally obliged. Gabriel smiled and then something uncurled inside my chest. It felt like a cool summer breeze—gentle and comforting.
“God does not hate you. If that were true, your soul would have no chance of redemption. You have a gift. You can save so many lives with it. You can earn your place in Heaven.”
“But how?” I said, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice. “I’m only eighteen years old, for shit’s sake. I can’t even buy myself a drink. How am I supposed to help a hundred dead people find peace?”
“In a word? Faith.”
He tucked a strand of stray hair behind my ear. “I have seen far worse men and women rise from the darkness. I believe that you can too.”
“You don’t even know me,” I whispered. “How can you stand to be so nice after what I’ve done?”
“Your hands may be dirty, but your soul is pure. You couldn’t be a Seer otherwise. And, more importantly, you’re not alone. You have my word that I will support you until your debt is repaid.”
He held out one hand. “Friends?”
I stared at him, this archangel in Armani sitting on a cheap couch in a seedy hotel, smiling at a broken little girl from New Jersey. I kept expecting to wake up from some bizarre dream. Maybe life was stranger than fiction.
I swallowed enough to push the lump in my throat away and then took his hand. It was warm and my fingers nearly vanished in his large grip. “Friends.”
“Good. Now, when was the last time you ate something?”
I paused, thinking about it. “Last night.”
“That simply will not do,” he said, rising from his seat. “Do you like Jamaican food?”
“I-I guess so.”
“Excellent. I know a place around the corner. I’ll return soon.”
He bent over me for a second. I almost flinched again, but he kissed my forehead, above my right eyebrow, very gently. No one had done that to me since my mother. It felt…strange, yet wonderful.
>
He left without another word. I stared at the door after he’d walked out, absently rubbing the tingling spot on my skin.
Friends. Is this what that felt like?
My mind drifted back to reality as the music swelled again. Ave Maria.
I couldn’t stand it any longer. My feet barely held as I stood up and climbed back towards the edge of the rafters. No one would miss me—hell, they’d all be glad if I tripped and fell and broke my neck on the sanctuary floor. All I could see was his face, silent and expressionless in death. This was one funeral I had never imagined. I’d lost a lot of people in my life, but I never thought I’d lose him. Never him. Never Gabriel.
I didn’t remember climbing down—just that I was in a stall of the women’s bathroom, curled up on the closed toilet, my ruined arm crushed to my stomach, the other wrapped around my hips. Tears burned down my cheeks. My throat choked out raw sounds that didn’t even sound human. I was no longer in the church, but I could still hear them singing “Dominus tecum” through the walls. The Lord is with you.
Bullshit.
I was alone.
And I deserved to be.
There was no sign of Moloch after he and his men left. We expected to hear horror stories of him killing angels left and right, but so far, no one else had died by his hand, or by Belladonna’s. Gabriel had been right. Something else was coming. Something big. Moloch wanted a war. He thought like a soldier. World War I started after the murder of Archduke Franz Ferdinand. Killing the gentlest soul in all of Heaven had incited the angels into a murderous frenzy.
They all wanted blood. They had to hold an official summit to calm the seething masses from laying siege to the earth in their mad search for Moloch. Raphael headed the debate, fighting against those who wanted to end the pact they made to keep the angels’ presence a secret and hunt down Moloch with an army of untold proportions. Michael chose to remain neutral because he was emotionally compromised, but I knew that it hadn’t gone well now that his reputation was tarnished. The angels had lost faith in him and without a solid plan there was no chance that he’d be reinstated as Commander.
I waited for him to come back at the safe house in his guest room, pacing back and forth around the bed. He’d been gone for hours, not that it told me anything. There was no time up there. Long story.
Whenever Michael’s soul went to Heaven or the astral plane, his body stayed behind. He was swathed in bandages—his forehead, his arms and fingers, and his shirt was bulky in spots from the ones on his chest. The fight had taken so much out of all of us that we couldn’t heal each other completely yet. Asking the other angels was out of the question at this point.
The angels in the safe house refused to speak to him as of yet, still angry that he’d been there and couldn’t stop the archdemon. They were just as furious with me, glaring daggers when I walked through the halls. I had to keep my head down to avoid attention. I thought I had been alone before when I was a kid and after I first became a Seer, but I was wrong. This was much, much worse.
Faust, Avriel, and Myra were back at our hideout trying to get something out of Belial that could help us find Moloch. Ace was too hurt to use his heightened sense of smell to track the archdemon. So far, Belial kept suggesting that we let him go and he’d lead us to Moloch, but we weren’t stupid. The second we turned him loose, he’d bail, or worse, turn us in.
My thoughts were interrupted as the sweet melody of Eels’ “Spunky” floated to my ears. Michael’s phone sat on the bed next to him. I bit my lip. It would be rude to answer it, but then again, I was curious. That was the same ringtone as his mysterious call the other day. I prayed for forgiveness and answered it.
“Michael O’Brien’s phone.”
An unsteady female voice hit my ears. “H-Hello? Who is this?”
I frowned. She couldn’t have been more than a tween. “Jordan. I’m his…friend. What’s wrong?”
“No, no, no, you don’t understand!” she cried. “I need him! It’s happening again! I can’t stop it. I c-can’t breathe. Where is he?”
“Whoa, calm down, honey. What’s wrong? Tell me. Maybe I can help.”
“I-I’m having another panic attack,” she said through gulping gasps. “He’s usually the one who calms me down when they happen. What happened? Is he okay?”
“He’s fine, sweetie. He’s just not here right now. I need you to calm down and breathe.”
“I’m trying!” she shrieked. Oh, hell. I was freaking her out worse. Nice job, Amador.
“Listen to my voice, okay? Concentrate. Breathe. Think about something else.”
“Like what?”
“Uh, what’s your favorite color?”
“I dunno. G-Green?”
“Great. Um, name ten things off the top of your head that are green.”
She sniffled. “Grass…bell peppers…limes…lily pads…turtles…frogs…I-I can’t think of anything else!”
“That’s alright. What’s your favorite Disney movie?”
“P-Pocahontas.”
“Awesome. That’s my favorite too. Who’s your favorite Disney Prince?”
“I-I guess Aladdin.”
“Right? He’s pretty cute for a little animated dude. I’d totally ask him out if I were sixteen and digital.”
She giggled in between breaths, sniffing again, and this time she didn’t stutter. “Wow, you’re kind of a dork, huh?”
I smiled. “Yeah, it’s a curse. How’s your breathing now?”
“Um, better. I think it’s ‘cause I laughed. Michael says sometimes I just need a distraction, but I was at lunch at the home and the other girls were making fun of me.”
“That had to suck. I’m sorry, honey.”
“It’s okay. I’m used to it. Do you know when Michael will be back?”
“Not yet. But I promise to tell him you called.”
“Thanks. What was your name again?”
“Jordan. What’s yours?”
“Allison.”
“Nice to meet you, Allison. Bye.”
“Bye, Jordan.” She hung up. I exhaled, ramming my palm into my forehead. Idiot. That could have gone so much worse. Still, it raised a ton of questions that I wanted answers to, if only to distract myself from our current crisis.
I went to get lunch. Michael had returned to his body while I was in the cafeteria. I found him sitting on the bed in the dim light of the lamp, staring at the floor. He didn’t even answer the door when I knocked. I knew he’d wanted to be alone so he could tear himself to pieces.
“Hey,” I said, holding out a cup of chamomile tea. He wasn’t much of a tea person, but he accepted it anyway. I sat next to him with my own mug, sipping a bit, relieved as the warmth flooded through my stomach all the way down to my toes.
“So,” I said as softly as possible. “You went before the Father to ask for help. What did he say?”
Michael turned the mug in his hands. I knew it had to hurt with those sore fingers. “That it wasn’t His place to interfere. That I would have to seek justice for my brother’s murder on my own.”
He laughed—a weak, hollow sound. “I don’t know why I expected Him to act. He let His own son die. Why would my brother be any different?”
“Michael,” I warned. “Don’t do that. Don’t give Him a reason to throw you out.”
“I’m doing a great job of that myself,” he said. “Don’t need His help.”
“Michael, please, this isn’t going to help.”
He drank a mouthful of tea and then released that bitter chuckle again. “What isn’t?”
“Blaming yourself. We couldn’t have seen that coming. We didn’t know any better.”
“I should have,” he snapped, glaring at me. “I was Commander. I should have been smarter. Faster. Stronger. It should have been me lying there, not him. Gabriel wasn’t a soldier. He was a businessman. A healer. He shouldn’t have died like that. I failed him. Just like I’ve failed them all.”
“You haven’t failed th
em all. If faith were easy to obtain, everyone on the planet would have it, but they don’t. So you lost their trust. Earn it back.”
“And how am I supposed to do that, Jordan? We have no leads. They have two daggers. You don’t need to be a tactical genius to know what’s coming next. They will come for the rest of the coins and they will start a war. They will scorch the earth and kill everyone in their path.”
“Then fight for the angels. Go back to Heaven. Tell them that this is what Moloch wants—mutiny in the ranks, uncertainty and fear on everyone’s tongue. Get them back under control or we’ll lose everything.”
“I’ve already lost everything,” he whispered. “My title, my respect, my brother, even you. I’m not the man I was. I’m not the man to lead them into this war.”
I closed my eyes. It hurt beyond words to hear him say that. He wasn’t meant for misery. He deserved better. He always would.
We drank in silence for a while until I had to break it. “Tell me about Allison.”
He glanced at me then, surprised. “How did you—”
“I answered your phone while you were gone.”
He frowned and I held up my hand in surrender. “I know. It was stupid, but I was curious. I’m sorry. You can fuss at me later. Tell me how you know her.”
Michael ran a hand through his tousled hair. “It’s still a long story, but you might as well hear the truth.”
The car chirped twice when I hit the key fob. I opened the door, about to climb in, about to leave Albany for good, when I caught sight of something in my peripheral. I glanced across the lot to see a waifish girl in a black dress standing alone outside of the fence surrounding the spaces. The wind pushed her waist-length brown hair away from her face and made the red ribbon around her midsection flap like a tiny flag. It took several seconds for my brain to truly register what she was doing up here. We were six stories up. And she was about to jump.
“Hey!” I barked, jogging towards her.