by Kyoko M
That stupid lump from before returned to my throat. “I will.”
Myra shook her head again and stood, wrapping me in a hug so warm that it reminded me of my mother’s irreplaceable embraces. “You’re gonna be alright, girlie. I promise. Come hell or high water.”
I let out a hoarse giggle. “Phrasing.”
But I hugged her back and told myself to believe her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
MICHAEL
“I suppose it’s a bit redundant to keep asking ‘how are you feeling’,” Raphael admitted as he rolled up the sleeves of his dark brown dress shirt. Unlike me, Raphael had accepted the bishop’s offer for a nice room. They gave him one down the hall from Gabriel. It had the same design and everything, except the floor was burgundy rather than dark blue. The patrons who lived here long term had the option to actually decorate the room to their liking. There was a reason this was the most coveted safe house in the States.
“Pretty much.” I said, leaning my arms on my knees after sitting on the absurdly comfortable bed. No way I’d ever get used to my lumpy one back home after the extravagant mattresses at this safe house.
“Any physical pain since the first time I checked up on you?”
I shook my head. “None yet.”
“Have you slept?”
“No.”
He frowned at me. I sighed. “I know. But you can’t really blame me, can you?”
“I am obligated as your doctor to tell you that you need rest. As your brother, however, no, I don’t blame you.” He grabbed a pen light and checked my vision, which ironically blinded me. I blinked hard a few times to dispel the red lines that appeared once he was done.
He pulled on a stethoscope and stuck it beneath my t-shirt. I fidgeted as the ice-cold suction cup hit my bare skin.
His deep voice softened significantly. “Have you experienced any flashbacks?”
“No, but I had a pretty good panic attack earlier. I forgot how much fun those are. Haven’t had one in centuries.”
He withdrew the stethoscope, lowering it to rest around his neck. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, I’m noticing that I get the shakes whenever I leave the room. Not sure why.”
“Have you been to any of the common areas yet?”
“No.”
He sighed. “It could be you are subconsciously anxious about being in a crowd. You mentioned being dragged off by a mob and then auctioned like a slave. Any situation that recreates that scenario could set you off.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “Fantastic. They’ll definitely reinstate me as the Commander when I curl up in the fetal position every time I have to make a speech.”
Raphael stared at me for a moment and then flicked me in the forehead. Hard.
“Ow!” I rubbed the spot, glaring. “The hell was that for?”
“Self-deprecation is Jordan’s M.O.,” he said with heavy disapproval. “Don’t you start in on it too.”
I scowled. “What? You want me to pretend like I didn’t royally screw up?”
“No. But you’re far more experienced than she is, and so you should know that folly is natural. Yes, you messed up, but you were able to fix that mistake. It may take time for the angels to see that, but I believe that they will. You should have seen their faces when I told them you marched into Hell and rescued your brother. Several of them wanted you back that very instant.”
“Guess you left out a few details.”
He shrugged. “What they don’t know can’t hurt them. It’s not entirely inaccurate, after all.”
“I wish I could be as optimistic as you. What I just saw in Gabriel’s room, it…”
Raphael’s brown eyes didn’t waver on mine. “Keep going.”
“Raph.”
“Michael, you need to talk. It’s what I’m here for. Stop holding it in.”
I closed my eyes. “I’ve never had this happen before. Even when everything went south during a mission, I’ve always had Gabriel to lean on. Now he’s the one who needs my help and I can’t give it to him. What the hell am I supposed to do about that?”
“It’s only been a day since his return. He may get better.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then we will find a way to make peace with it. What you need to understand is that this is not your fault.”
“How can you say that? I let that maniac murder him—”
Raphael held up his hand. “No, you didn’t. Murder is a choice. An act of free will. Belladonna made the choice to betray her family. You did not let anything happen to him. Gabriel would never want you to take responsibility for someone else’s decision. You cannot protect everyone from every bad thing in the world. You cannot expect to be everything to everyone all the time. It is why you were so unhappy before you met Jordan.”
I glanced at him then, shocked. He smiled a little. “Sorry, that sounded harsh, but I think it’s the truth. She doesn’t expect you to be anything other than yourself. She is like that with all of us, really. It’s why we like her. You know, when she is not inadvertently causing the Apocalypse.”
A light chuckle escaped my lips, and some of the tension inside me went with it. “Right. I think after you met her for the first time, you said something along the lines of ‘that girl is either going to save the world or destroy it someday.’ Pretty accurate.”
“I thought so.” He turned towards his duffel bag of medical goodies and then tossed me an unopened electric-blue Gatorade. I unscrewed the cap and drank some. He waited until I finished before approaching with his hands outstretched, just a few inches from my chest. He shut his eyes and then I felt the cool presence of his energy reaching into me. He frowned a bit after a few minutes.
“You’ve made some progress so far, but there is still a lot of damage left on your soul. I’m afraid it might be a while before you can return to Heaven.”
A sharp pain crackled through my chest, as if someone had reached inside me and clamped down on the veins leading to my heart. I forced myself to breathe deep as panicked thoughts filled my skull like monkey chatter in a zoo. You can’t go home. You can’t see your Father. You’ve been tainted. You’re one of them now.
“Just as well,” I said, swallowing to get rid of the lump forming in my throat. “I’m not sure that I’m ready to face the Father and Son yet.”
Raphael shook his head. “All these centuries and you’re still doubting yourself. They’re not angry with you, Michael. They’re proud.”
I eyed him. “You’re not just saying that, are you?”
“Of course not. You did something reckless, yes, but you never once did it out of petty revenge or for your own glory. It was the right thing to do. If the pact had not been made for Him not to interfere, I think it’s what the Son would have done. Besides, you’re not seeing the big picture. All those demons you faced down there will know that this war is not in their favor. They have seen your strength. They will remember until the end of days that Michael the archangel is no one to be trifled with.”
“That’s a relief,” I told him. “I’ve got enough work to do anyway. Once we’re stable, I need to get Jordan out of the country. The FBI is closing in and if they find her, they’re gonna lock her up. That thing with the President last year was a one-time-only miracle. There’s nothing I can do to stop them.”
“Understood. I’ll have some of the angels drop by her place and pick up some of her personal effects. What about you? Anything you need from your apartment?”
“Maybe just my guitar. Everything else I can live without for a while.”
“Sure. I can get on that now while we have a moment.” He whipped out his cell phone and made a couple of calls, which reminded me that I hadn’t turned my phone on since we made the decision to rescue Gabriel.
I took a deep breath as the screen lit up and revealed that I had twenty-four missed calls—five of which were from Allison. I also had five voicemail messages: one from my boss, one from the government anno
uncing my court date for the “hunting accident” in the forest, two from Allison, and then one from a number I didn’t recognize.
“Collect call from: Albany Police Department.”
My blood ran cold as I continued listening. “This is Officer James Wright with the Albany Police Department. A girl by the name of Allison Marcus was apprehended breaking into your apartment early this morning around six o’clock. She’s in custody and will be charged with breaking and entering. If you’re interested in pressing charges, please contact—”
I leapt to my feet, alarming Raphael. “What is it?”
“I’ve got to go.”
He blocked my path. “Michael, I don’t think you’re ready to be in public—”
I stepped around him. “My friend’s in trouble. Tell Jordan I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“But you’re not healed yet—”
“It can wait.”
“Michael!”
I didn’t hear anything else after I slammed the door shut.
Going to the police department would be a terrible idea, so I didn’t head there. It was half past noon, and the administrators at the girls’ home would have gotten her out by now. I knew it was risky to make an appearance, since the FBI would be watching and hoping that I’d slip up and lead them to Jordan, but I had to see Allison, if only so I could murder her with my own bare hands.
I had worked with the head administrator at the girls’ home for several months. She took the care and health of her children very seriously, so it was no surprise that she grilled me extensively when I first petitioned to mentor Allison over the phone. After all, there was no shortage of disgusting perverts in New York. It took months, but we finally got to a place where she felt she could trust me. And now Allison’s hardheaded actions had damn near undone it all.
Francine Bergman was tall, thin, and reminded me of Professor McGonagall, with her thin mouth and sunken cheeks. She always wore grey and white suits and had her hair pulled back in a bun. I sat in the waiting room outside her office, my head down, hands wringing each other of their own volition, until she was ready to see me. She called my name and gave me a cold blue stare from across the room. I’d never been a kid, but I imagined this is what it felt like to be sent to the principal’s office.
She shut the door. Her office was a broom closet on steroids. Bookshelves surrounded three of the walls, stuffed to the gills with literature about childcare, mental health, and psychology. She had three degrees, if I remembered correctly, so she certainly knew her stuff.
“Mr. O’Brien,” she said in a clipped tone. “This is certainly a meeting I never wanted to have with you.”
“You and me both,” I said with a long-suffering sigh. “Mrs. Bergman, before you start, I want you to know that I was out of town for the last few days and had nothing to do with whatever scheme popped into Allison’s thick skull.”
The wrinkled right corner of her mouth twitched, but that was the only reaction I got. “Thick though it may be, you understand that this debacle has done massive damage to the relationship you and I established. She ran away from home to see you. You are a grown man. She is a child. You know where I’m going with this, don’t you?”
“She’s just a kid. They do stupid stuff all the time. It’s how they learn. Please, just let me see her. Even if this is the last time, can I talk to her?”
She folded her hands on the small desk. “And say what exactly?”
“Goodbye, if need be. I know how it looks. If you want me out of her life, that’s your call. You have every single right to make it. Just give me five minutes.”
She arched a silver eyebrow. “With supervision, if that helps,” I added.
Mrs. Bergman cleared her throat and stared me down for another handful of seconds before tapping the intercom next to the lamp. “Melinda, send Allison into my office, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
A moment later, heavy, booted footsteps echoed and then the aforementioned hardheaded tween opened the door. She wore an oversized fuzzy green sweater, baggy jeans, and combat boots. She stared at the ground as she walked, looking like an inmate on death row until she saw me.
“Michael!” she cried, throwing herself into my arms. Mrs. Bergman cleared her throat again and I quickly untangled myself from the girl.
“Allison,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her. “Have you lost your mind? What in God’s name were you doing breaking into my apartment? How’d you even find it in the first place?”
“I have a friend.” She paused, glancing guiltily at Mrs. Bergman before continuing. “He’s a hacker. I gave him your phone number and he tracked your address for me.”
I palmed my face. “Ally.”
“What was I supposed to do? Your voicemail made it sound like you were in trouble. I thought you were hurt.”
I dropped my hand, glaring. “Oh, and what exactly were you going to do? Rescue me? I’ve taken shits that weigh more than you and you think you were just going to ride in and save me from the bad guys?”
“Mr. O’Brien,” Mrs. Bergman said with a frosty look. “Language.”
“Sorry,” I said through my teeth. “You had no right to do that. Now you’ve gotten yourself a juvie record. You’re lucky they even bailed you out.”
Defiant tears welled up in her brown eyes. “You’re my friend. I wanted to help you the way you helped me. Why is that wrong?”
“Because you broke the law. Because you made Mrs. Bergman and your caretakers worry about you. Next time you think someone’s in trouble, call the cops. You’re not Batgirl. You’re twelve years old. You can’t run around New York by yourself. You could have gotten hurt or worse. That’s what you did wrong.”
She stared at her boots. “I didn’t know what else to do. I was scared. You’re all I’ve got, okay? You can’t bail on me.”
I took a deep breath. “I didn’t bail on you, Ally. You don’t need me as much as you think you do. You’re stronger than that. Stop doubting it.”
She sniffled and my heart melted into a puddle at the bottom of my chest cavity. Damn it all. Frickin’ kids, man.
I lifted her chin to make her meet my gaze. “You’re gonna be fine, okay? I don’t need rescuing, I promise. I didn’t mean to freak you out when I left that voicemail. I just wanted you to know the truth. You’re awesome. You’re gonna grow up to be a total badass and I just needed you to realize that.”
“Language,” said Mrs. Bergman, but she was smiling this time.
“Sorry,” I said, then motioned towards her desk. “Now apologize to her.”
Allison wiped her eyes on her sleeve and turned to Mrs. Bergman. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I panicked. I’m kind of good at that.”
The old woman’s expression softened into sympathy. “Thank you. Now go on back to your room.”
Allison hesitated. “Will you throw him in jail for being a pedo if I give him another hug?”
I resisted the urge to groan. “Ally. Seriously, not helping.”
“Just keep it under ten seconds and make sure your hands are above the waistline.”
Allison hugged me, burying her face in my chest. “I’m sorry. Really. Don’t hate me.”
I sighed and rubbed the crown of her messy brown hair. “I don’t hate you, kid. You just drive me up the wall sometimes. Now beat it. The grownups need to talk.”
“Mmkay. Bye.”
“Bye.” She let go, her face still just a bit wounded as she turned and walked out the door.
I glanced at Mrs. Bergman once I was sure Allison was gone. “Thank you for letting me say goodbye. I appreciate it. Take care of her.”
I started for the door, but then she spoke again. “You’re married, aren’t you?”
I turned, brandishing my left hand to show her the wedding band. “Yeah. Why?”
“Congratulations. I hear that married couples are far more likely to be able to adopt than single bachelors. Perhaps in a couple of years, if you clean
up your act, you might be able to look into it. And you might be able to find a personal reference. You know, theoretically.”
I kept my face cool and blank. “Of course. Thanks for the advice.”
She nodded to me. “Good day, Mr. O’Brien.”
“Good day, Mrs. Bergman.”
Six months later…
JORDAN
I woke to the plucking bass that opened Wayne Newton’s “Danke Schoen.” I stirred in the bed and yawned, peeping at the clock-radio-slash-CD-player. It was not long after eight o’clock in the morning.
I stretched my back after sitting up and rubbed my eyes clear of any gunk from the night before. We’d stayed out pretty late getting properly schnockered at the bachelorette party. I hadn’t been drunk in years because it was a great way to slide back down into alcohol dependence, but I’d learned to drink in moderation since then so it was fine. Plus, the wine in this area was nothing short of phenomenal. I couldn’t resist.
The rented room was elegant and yet stylish. Cream carpet, a silk tent surrounding the four posts on the bedframe, marble bathroom counters, golden faucets, and one truly amazing bathtub complete with jets. Gabriel had spared no expense. That was one thing the trip to Hell thankfully hadn’t changed about him.
After combing the knots out of my hair with my fingers, I strode over to the balcony on the right side of the room and drew the curtains back. Sunlight poured in and washed me in its natural warmth. Beautiful buildings with some of the world’s most noteworthy architecture greeted me. Ah, Vatican City. Gorgeous weather and more religious symbolism than you could shake a stick at. Plus, non-extradition country. I had saved humanity from an imminent war with the angels and demons, and rescued my best friend from the bowels of Hell, but I still had a warrant out for my arrest. Sometimes you just can’t bloody win.
“Late night?”
A velvety voice spoke from the direction of my bed. I didn’t jump. I didn’t even flinch. I drew my fingertips down the transparent inner curtains.