was gone, and her life after it was beyond her comprehension. All she had was the noise of guns and anger, the sound of death and terror.
“Pain remains our greatest teacher.” The Angel closed the elevator doors. “Listen past the noise, and you will hear that pain has purified your soul.”
Motion. Karen felt the urge to retch, was overcome with dizziness. The elevator was climbing.
“Why?” Her body jerked. The Angel held her like a child.
“Pride. My brothers tried to take the Scroll of the Lamb and hide it. They feared its opening.” Raphael kissed her brow. “I took it, and hid it from them.”
“And now you can open it!” She tried to raise her shoulders, but fell back in pain.
“Unlikely.” The Angel’s light soothed away her pain but could not return her life. She felt her stomach lurch as the elevator came to a halt. The doors slid aside. “The Scroll of the Lamb will be safe in my cell. Events will ensure as much.”
Whether it was the Angel’s light, or her desperation, she struggled to get her shoulders upright. On the floor, two tattered figures. Driver’s face was covered in blood, his leg laid open to the bone. Bloody was a crumpled mass of exposed muscle tissue and skeleton.
“Rest in peace,” she watched their tangled forms as she was carried past. The Texan’s eyes were half open-his forehead smooth.
“Your strength is great. For you could hate them, yet you choose to love. That is why I love humans.” An ironic grin twisted the Angel’s features. “Perhaps you see the difficulty our Father faces.”
“Won’t they come back after Blacktime? I can’t think.” Her words were coming garbled. “ Resurrected?”
“Perhaps. Yet when Gabriel dies, his hold upon death will die with him.” Raphael studied her intently. “There will be no more resurrections.”
Her mind reeled around the words. She raised a hand to her temple. “I can’t think.”
“I foresaw that the God-wife Cawood’s coming would distract the Powers that contained me-and so I encouraged the Prime to seek you out. I did not foresee the magic at my door killing you as it has. For that I apologize.” He kissed her forehead. “You allowed me to escape. Alas, I did not get to you in time.” Remnants of smoke hung in the air of the Prime’s boardroom. But the Angel’s scent dispelled it.
The explosion had shattered the windows. Damp wind blew through them, tugging at her hair. Raphael carried her to a place by a broken window. Gently he set her on the carpet, and then gathered himself beside her. The wind touched her face and lightened her mood, but it could not shift the dread that pulled at her. Raphael folded his wings around them. He cradled her head in his arms. They watched.
Parts of the City were burning. The sky flickered like fireworks to the west as the City Defenders fought with the unstoppable forces of the dead, of Heaven and Hell. Flashes like lightning burst against her eyes.
“It is beautiful in its own way.” Raphael looked wistfully at the battle. “But any spectacle can steal a breath. The Final Battle has spilled into the City.” His flawless finger caressed her cheek. “Dear sweet humanity.” The Angel turned his eyes to hers. “Suicide bombers all.”
“Able?” She struggled to sit upright, but her vision blurred with the effort. “Is he here?”
“He watches us.” Resting on his right elbow, Raphael looked toward the bar.
“Able!” Karen sobbed. “I’m sorry.” She pulled Raphael’s robe. “Take me to him.”
The Angel studied the distance. “He shakes his head. Reverend Stoneworthy does not wish you to see him now.” Raphael pressed a hand against her shoulder. “He was badly damaged by the flames.”
“I love you, Able!” Karen tried to twist her head. She could only see his legs stretched out on the scorched carpet. “I have to hold him.”
“He nods his head, touches his heart.” Raphael looked back to her.
“Oh, Able.” New tears exhausted her.
“Hmm,” the Angel said. “His thoughts tell me he knew about the photographs. A copy and letter of extortion was sent to him also.” The Angel’s voice thickened.
Karen’s heart suddenly fluttered. He knew! And he still took her on his mission. He didn’t judge her. “We can’t let him die alone.”
“He won’t.” The Angel looked to the hall and Karen followed his gaze. The little dead girl stood in the doorway. Her mask was gone. Her single eye was a sad and tearful glimmer. The dress was soaked in blood. Her ruined face looked weary. Relieve the sufferings of the innocent victims of war; grant them peace of mind, healing of body…
The dead girl walked over to where Able was crumpled, and she curled into his lap. She wrapped his useless arms around her shoulders.
A tear formed in the Angel’s eye. His voice grew husky. “Love and War. Pride and guilt. That is God.”
“But,” Karen began, “the war out there is fought by Angels too.”
“You’re not the only ones made in His image. Creation and destruction in one shell,” he whispered. “I do not discount my brethren’s responsibility. Ultimately, we are as powerless as your people. Afflicted as we are with freedom.”
“Where is Christ, can’t he stop this?” A sharp pain ran below her ribs.
“He does what he can.” Raphael patted her arm.
“And God?” Karen shivered.
“God has made a choice.” The Angel watched her thoughtfully. “He is also afflicted with freedom.”
“Can you stop it?” A chill was growing in her.
“No. The time is come.” He blew warm breath on her forehead. “Do not fear.”
“Run.” Nausea swam through her. “Fly from here.”
“I will stay. Our time is ended.” A wistful expression passed across his face.
Distantly, she heard a long drawn out roar-growing in volume-far off, like a jet flying. Briefly, she remembered contrails in the South African sky.
“I hear a plane.” Karen shouted, “Able, can you hear it?”
“Gabriel will try to flee soon.” Raphael grinned. “But he will find the door to Heaven closed. By breaking God’s covenant, he has renounced his Principality and his Power.”
“Please,” Karen wept. “I don’t want to die.” She reached out a trembling hand to touch the Angel’s face.
“No one does.” Raphael’s tone was diminished. “But how else can the world move past us?”
Cawood studied the silence for signs of hope. She could hear distant explosions. The drum taps of weapons. Near at hand, was the whine of an electric motor somewhere beyond her sight.
“It is time.” Raphael looked to the ceiling as though he was listening.
Sister Karen took a deep breath of cinnamon.
91 – Lucifer
Felon glared. The Devil had shaken off his shaggy disguise and exposed his native form. The Fallen’s body like his brethren’s was a masterpiece shaped by a perfect hand. Its structural design was the epitome of strength and beauty. Its color reflected the natural tones of creation. The facial features were a refined version of the harshly drawn hobo Felon met in the sewers, but recognizable.
Now the ruby lips were sculpted, drawn forward in an insolent half-pucker. Lucifer’s dark brown almond- shaped eyes had enormous pupils that made them look black. They reflected orange and green from the yacht’s running lights. He stood as tall as Felon, and was dressed in black homespun tunic, wool leggings and boots. Overall, his body was robust, raptor-like, made more so by the long black wings that grew out of his back. The feathers were glossy, casting a blue gleam from their edges. He carried them folded down the length of his spine.
Felon locked his knees against his vertigo-he imagined driving his fingers into the Fallen’s eye sockets and pulping his brain.
“The war is almost over.” Lucifer mused, and his face broke into an impish smile. “Thank God! ”
Felon scowled at him, glanced at the rail. Water continued to splash up from the clot of Swimmers. There were hollow thumps and the yacht shifted against the dead weight.
