“That’s great. I should only be a little while,” he told the dog.
“Take your time,” Dottie called out as he started to walk around to the back of the building.
To make his direct call to Heaven.
CHAPTER THREE
Remy pictured in his mind’s eye the Old South Church as it was the last time he had entered, and willed himself inside with a rush of air and the flutter of wings.
He had attended a fund-raiser for the Congregationalist parish to help finance repairs of damage done by the ravages of age and nearby construction. Tonight, it was just as beautiful as he remembered, even in darkness.
Remy pulled his wings back into his body and strolled down the center aisle, admiring the elaborate woodwork and stained glass. His eyes fixed upon the enormous organ pipes to the left of the altar, and he remembered the glorious sounds they had made when played at the fund-raiser.
If he listened very carefully, straining his preternatural senses to their maximum capacity, he could still hear the lingering residue of the countless prayers that had been spoken here.
Now he was about to add his own to the fray.
Remy stood no more than a few feet from the altar and turned his gaze to the ceiling. Shedding his human visage, he appeared as the angel, Remiel, Seraphim and soldier of Heaven. Wings spread wide and armor- covered arms outstretched, the angel began to pray. Up through this place of worship, Remiel projected his petition, spoken in the language of the Messengers, hopefully to the ears of God.
Or whoever might be listening on His behalf.
Remiel needed answers. He had to know if the world that he cared so deeply for, the people that he loved, would be safe. He needed to know if there was anything that could avert the coming hardship.
It had been a very long time since Remiel had asked Heaven for anything, but now it was time to put aside old hostilities for the sake of something so much bigger.
Exhausted, Remiel fell to his knees, listening with all his might for an answer, but except for the sounds of the city coming to life outside, the place of worship remained silent. Slowly, the angel climbed to his feet, abandoning the guise of a Heavenly warrior and slipping comfortably back into the guise of humanity he had worn for so many years.
Remy looked around the church, senses on the alert, but still there was nothing.
Still there was no response.
Perhaps the drums of war beat much louder than even he suspected.
He was ready to leave, ready to reveal his wings again and take himself back outside to reunite with Marlowe and Dottie, when he felt a sudden change in the atmosphere of the church.
As if something had been added.
Remy turned, eyes scanning his surroundings, and he found it—someone sitting tall in one of the pews, staring straight ahead toward the altar.
“Hello?” Remy called out.
At first the figure did not react. But then he spoke, his voice soft yet powerful. “Hello, Remiel.
“I would have come sooner,” the figure continued as he turned eyes as dark as space to Remy, “but, as you can probably guess, things are terribly hectic.”
“There’s a war brewing, don’t you know.”
His name was Montagin, and Remy had not seen him since the first war against the Morningstar. How apropos that he would be the one to come to Remy now.
“How long has it been?” Montagin asked, turning to face the angel as Remy slid into the pew.
“Let’s just say that it’s been a long time,” Remy replied, trying to keep it friendly.
“It was right after the war, wasn’t it?” the angel asked. His eyes twinkled mischievously.
This was one of the many reasons that Remy had left Heaven: Angels were basically assholes.
“It was,” Remy agreed tightly.
“Right before your little tantrum that ended up with you settling . . .” Montagin’s dark eyes darted about, seeing not only the church, but the world outside it. “Here.”
Remy didn’t respond to the angel’s malicious grin.
“So how have you been?” Montagin then asked, unbuttoning his suit coat so that he was able to cross his long legs without wrinkling the linen. The off-white suit appeared very expensive, and he was wearing what looked to be Italian loafers, without socks.
Very stylish for a creature of Heaven; Remy had to wonder how long he’d been in this world.
“Fine,” Remy said, casually nodding. “I’m surprised to see you.”
Montagin smiled. “Just happened to be listening and I wasn’t too far away. Actually it should have been Aszrus who answered, but he had some business to take care of tonight.”
The mention of Aszrus caused an icy chill of concern to pass through Remy’s body. “Aszrus is here?” he asked.
Montagin nodded. “Has been here for quite some time. We’ve always anticipated that what’s happening would occur.”
“And what exactly is that?” Remy asked.
Montagin chuckled coldly. “You’re not that far removed from what you are, Remiel,” he said. “You’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to know—not to see—what’s been unfolding all across this planet.”
“You mentioned a war,” Remy prompted.
“And that will likely be the end result,” Montagin acknowledged, slowly rotating his foot. Remy was reminded of a cat’s tail languidly swishing back and forth just before it pounced.
“I’m sure you know that the Morningstar has returned to Tartarus and is in the process of reshaping it into who knows what?” Montagin leaned forward toward Remy.
“Yeah, I’d heard something about that.”
“Good,” the angel said. “Then you’re not as far gone as I feared.”
“So this is all about the Morningstar,” Remy said, ignoring the barb.
Montagin was staring intensely now.
“Are you just playing dumb, or are you really that stupid?” he finally asked.
“I just don’t see an imminent threat,” Remy told him.
“Lucifer has returned to power,” Montagin said a little slower and a little louder. “Lucifer has returned to power, and has gone back to Tartarus . . . back to Hell.”
“So he’s gone back to where the Almighty put him to begin with.”
“Is this what living here among the monkeys does to one of us?” Montagin asked with a sneer.
“What does it do, Montagin?” Remy retorted. “Does it make me ask questions, and not fly off the handle at the slightest things? If that’s the case, then yeah, I guess living here has done that to me.”
The angel’s face wore an expression of absolute disgust.
“Even after everything you saw during the war, you can still be blind to what Lucifer is capable of.”
“I know what he’s capable of, but the question is, what is he doing now?”
Montagin rose to his feet, buttoning his suit jacket as he stood.
“If you can’t see his influence in everything that has been happening here on the world of man, then I’m afraid there’s really nothing more I can say to you.”
“Are you serious?” Remy questioned. “You think that what’s been happening here is all Lucifer’s fault?”
“Whether it is or isn’t doesn’t matter to the overall picture,” Montagin said. “The fact is that Lucifer
