I see a thin line of blue fire appear like holy writing across the front of Shamshiel’s throat, see his eyes fly wide. Hear the howl of indescribable anguish that climbs and climbs into the heavens, only to be lost in a shattering roar of heat and light.
Then Shamshiel is gone; and the fog with him.
As I lie pinned to the ground by the blazing weapon of a dead monster, I see four winged giants standing above me, bathed in a light that comes solely from within.
Then I close my eyes and am lost, for a time.
21
It’s Ryan who pulls Shamshiel’s blade from my wrist, Ryan who shakes my shoulders and calls my name and holds me close; Ryan, whole and healed and himself again.
I breathe in the familiar warm, male, human scent of him and cannot help murmuring, ‘
‘Well said,’ a familiar voice replies softly, ‘well said.’
For a disorientating moment, I open my eyes and look into my own face, my true face, not the false one I’m wearing now. Then I fathom groggily that it is Uriel who smiles down at me, in his customary form, the tail feathers of his great wings trailing upon the stone at his feet, his right hand resting upon the hilt of the great sword that cut Shamshiel down.
My eyes move slowly to the winged Titan standing beside him, also wreathed in glory, and I see that it is silver-eyed, auburn-haired Jeremiel, who says now, in a voice like exaltation, that makes me shiver to hear it, ‘Mercy, well met. It has been far too long, sister.’
Beside him stands dark-eyed, dark-haired Barachiel, whose province is lightning. It seems to play within the folds of his shining raiment, the long, sleek feathers of his luminous wings, as he growls at me the way he always used to, ‘Here’s strife.’ But today he’s smiling, and I find myself smiling back.
When I look to the last of them, I start to weep again. I can’t contain my tears: they spill down my cheeks and down through the fingers that cover my mouth in horror. For his gleaming, sleeveless raiment is rent and despoiled; his wing feathers are broken and torn; the surface of his alabaster skin is marked by signs of terrible torture, by wounds that continually bleed light into the air.
‘Gabriel!’ I cry, and he bends and takes my hands in his, his flaming hair falling over his pale brow into his pain-clouded emerald eyes. He sweeps it back impatiently, then pulls me close against him.
‘Never weep for me, marvellous creature,’ he says softly, pulling back and looking into my face for a long while. ‘When you and I are together now, there should be only joy. Enough death and pain and evil has marked the time you were lost to us. No more tears, Mercy, I beg you. I am well enough, whole enough.’
But his laughter has a catch in it, as if it hurts him to laugh.
As I smooth my thumbs across the wounds on the backs of Gabriel’s great hands, I startle such a strange expression upon Ryan’s face. Awe, wonder, jealousy: I see a little of them all there, the greatest being jealousy.
‘These are my
‘No more, no less.’ Jeremiel addresses Ryan almost reprovingly. ‘For if we had not meant you well, you would not now be restored.’
Gabriel makes a stilling gesture in Jeremiel’s direction and looks down into Ryan’s face. ‘We have no words to express our gratitude, our elation, that she is returned to us. You did as Michael asked: you kept her alive in your chaotic, frightening world. Restoring you to health goes no way towards repaying your care of her.’
‘What of Michael?’ Uriel asks, turning to the others, his wings dissolving into ether. At the same moment, Jeremiel and Barachiel also relax their guard and their wings melt away into the chill air.
‘Yes, what news?’ Gabriel adds, flexing his own giant wings stiffly for a moment. The torn feathers catch the weak sunlight, seem to hold it, magnify it momentarily, before they also shred apart.
‘Luc’s forces gather in Panama,’ Barachiel replies. ‘They have some vague, self-important intention of bringing the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans together. I had it from Semyaza himself before he inconveniently died. If Luc is there, then Michael and Raphael will not be far off. They are too valuable to Luc, he would want them close.’
‘Luc did promise Michael an exceptional form of vengeance,’ I remind the others quietly, flexing my scored left wrist that still burns with pain from Shamshiel’s blade. ‘This might be what he intended. Destroying a nation. Creating a new climate, a new world order. He was always ambitious.’
The four turn and refocus their eyes upon Ryan where he kneels beside me on the ground.
‘Then it is time to see him home, Mercy,’ Uriel says quietly. ‘It cannot be further delayed. While we hold Luc’s attention, get him home. Get yourself home. There is no other way. I’m sorry.’
I feel my eyes brim again with tears and am appalled at my weakness.
‘
‘While Luc lives,’ Jeremiel says quietly, ‘she remains the catalyst and the key. As powerful as we are, he is nearly untouchable here on earth, able to hide himself indefinitely, like a worm, or a snake, crawling beneath the earth. Once our most perfect son; now our paradigm terrorist. If we could “finish him off”, we would have done it years ago. We all,’ Jeremiel’s eyes move over me before he returns his shimmering, argent gaze to Ryan, ‘must play our part, do what we can.’
Barachiel takes up the argument in his rumbling voice. ‘With Mercy gone, the threat is not gone, but it is reduced. As is the arena of battle that we must defend. It is the only way.’
I place a stilling hand on Ryan’s arm before he can say anything more, and address my brethren harshly through my tears.
‘I may not accept it, but I understand, and I will do as you ask. Evil has no community, and I am no longer evil. Though the free will that was supposedly gifted to our kind alone has proved a most bitter thing to swallow. I am free, but not free. Constrained always by what is greater than me, better and more selfless than me. There’s no possibility of balance, of compromise, but how I wish there were. How I wish …’
Even Ryan can feel the force of the longing and desperation blazing out of me.
My four kinsmen regard me sorrowfully for a moment. Then Gabriel draws me to my feet, also helping Ryan to stand, before linking our hands together. Ryan looks down for a moment, unable to speak for sorrow.
‘Come,’ Barachiel says, his mighty visage grim once more. ‘Let us keep company with you along the coast until you must turn for “Paradise” — that most incongruously named place — and we make for Panama, and for Raphael and Michael.’
I glance at Uriel, stricken. ‘So soon?’
He says softly, ‘You knew this was only temporary, a reprieve. A small measure of time out of time. It is kinder this way, sister. Let him go. Let it all go. You have earned a measure of peace. Some day, you will be together again.’
‘How can you be sure?’ Ryan says bitterly, still staring at our joined hands, gripping my fingers so tightly that his are white with constricted blood. ‘How can you really be sure that we’ll ever be together again? What if I want to take
‘Then you are already lost,’ Barachiel murmurs. ‘And there
‘Bear him home, Mercy,’ Gabriel says quietly. ‘Do not delay, do not linger. As soon as Michael and Raphael are secure, we will return for you.’
‘How long do we have?’ Ryan asks, looking up at Gabriel, his dark eyes shining with unshed tears.
‘Not long,’ Gabriel murmurs. ‘You will know when it is time.’ He places a hand on my shoulder. ‘His care of you — his love — will be repaid in ways that cannot be measured.’
