Fic: A History of Heaven (Gabriel/Various Angels, PG-13 for this chapter) 18/59
For full notes and other chapters, please see the Masterpost.
Notes: In this story, before Lucifer fell, his name was Sammael. He was not Lucifer in Heaven.
There is one other canon character operating under an OC name, but I wish for his identity to remain unknown.
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Chapter word count: 3,029
Chapter Summary: Gabriel has finally returned to Heaven, but just when he thinks he can fix things with Michael and Sammael, more trouble crops up.
CHAPTER 18:
To Michael
“Ma!” A young man just shy of fourteen summers came running out of Sorcha’s hut as soon as Gabriel landed, flinging his arms around her waist and squeezing her tightly. “I was worried!”
“I’m sorry,” Gabriel said, not hugging the boy back. “I didn’t mean to keep your mother so long. I lost track of time.”
“Oh! Gabriel!” The youth, Artur, knew about the divine protector of his mother’s family. While he wasn’t as attuned to Gabriel’s spirit as Sorcha, he had met the angel before when Gabriel took his mother as her vessel. “I figured Ma was with you since the food never ran low, but I was still worried.”
“I’ll always protect your mother,” Gabriel said, repeating a constant promise she made to all her vessels. “And you.” A few simple runes carved into the walls of this home constantly generated minor miracles. Whenever Gabriel took Sorcha, the runes made sure Artur never went hungry or cold and nothing ever attacked his home. Sorcha didn’t like this “cheating” when she actually was home, so Gabriel made sure the spells only activated when Sorcha was gone. “Did you need anything else, before I go?”
Artur pointed to his knee and grinned unashamedly at the angel. Gabriel knelt down to inspect the nasty cut across the joint. “Your mother would have this heal naturally, so you learn your lesson and watch your feet next time.”
“But Ma’s not paying attention right now…” Artur wheedled.
Gabriel laughed and leaned forward to kiss Artur’s knee, healing the skin. Human injuries were much easier to attend to than angelic ones. “There. All better. Our little secret?”
Artur grinned and hugged Gabriel again, but Gabriel knew the young man was hugging herthis time and not his mother. It warmed her heart to have the love of this family, and she returned the embrace. “You be good for your mother, Artur. I have to return to my home now.”
“Safe flight, Gabriel!”
“Safe life, Artur.” Gabriel cupped Artur’s face and smiled one last time at him before brushing her fingers over his eyelids. He closed his eyes obediently, keeping his arms loosely wrapped around her as Gabriel slid out of Sorcha’s body. The woman sagged against her son, and Gabriel waited only long enough to confirm Sorcha was undamaged by the extended use of her body before winging his way back to Heaven.
Michael’s tree-like tower, growing up in the northern quadrant of Heaven, was the center of Heaven’s bureaucracy, and that was where Gabriel flew. Zachariah and Cariel had been instructed to return to their duties and leave “Sammael” alone. With Sorcha safely returned to her family, the only pressing thing left for Gabriel was to report to his own brother.
The tower was buzzing with activity as Michael’s angels kept a close eye on the running of the celestial realm. Countless Cherubim and Angels darted in and out of the “trunk,” as busy as a hive of bees. Gabriel bypassed the lower levels entirely and flew through the highest open knot. This was the lowest floor of Michael’s three private levels, usually guarded by two of his Seraphim. When Michael was working, he did not like interruptions.
The usual Seraphim were absent from the door today, but Castiel stood outside it, staring determinedly at the polished wood.
“If you want to knock it down, you’ll need to add a bit of grace to that glare.” Gabriel landed beside Castiel, clapping his hand on the younger angel’s shoulder. “Did you deliver my message?”
“Gabriel!” Castiel jumped, taken by surprise by the Archangel. Dismay flickered through Castiel’s grace, quickly smothered. “No. I tried, but you ordered me to go to Michael directly, and Raphael is guarding the door. He won’t let me in.” The young angel’s wings drooped in his failure. “Raphael doesn’t care for me.”
“Nooo, that’s not…” Gabriel laughed and ran his fingers through the feathers of Castiel’s wings. “Nah, I lie. That’s absolutely true, but it’s not just you. Raphael doesn’t like most of us. You’re in good company.”
Castiel brightened at the touch and reassurance. “I am sorry I have not-”
Gabriel interrupted with a dismissive wave. “My own fault. I should have remembered how tightly Michael locks down during a crisis. Return to your duties, Castiel. You can report to Anael that I was very pleased with your efforts on my behalf.”
“Yes, Gabriel.” Castiel was absolutely glowing as he took off again. Gabriel watched him fly for a moment. That was one little brother who needed all the praise he could receive. Father had decidedly stacked the deck against him. Gabriel only wished he knew why.
Castiel wasn’t important right now. Gabriel needed to report to Michael and get him to talk to Sammael again. If only five days had passed instead of the year or two he had feared earlier, then Michael might not have calmed down enough to have a productive discussion with Sammael, but if only five days had passed, then Michael might not be upset enough with Gabriel to refuse to listen to reason. He pushed the door open with a flick of his wrist and strode into Michael’s chambers.
Raphael met Gabriel just inside with his sword in his hand. He radiated displeasure as he circled his twin. Gabriel stood still, letting Raphael scrutinize his grace for any threat. “You’re not dead.”
“You sound disappointed.” Gabriel spread his wings and turned his hands so Raphael could see he held no surprises.
Raphael narrowed his eyes at his twin, reluctantly sheathing his sword. Gabriel knew the other Archangel would love an excuse to run him through, so he made sure not to present one. Honestly, the feeling was nearly mutual. If Gabriel ever had the stomach to draw his blade against a brother, he was sure Raphael would be the one he was facing down.
“Where have you been?” Raphael demanded, still circling Gabriel even though his weapons were put away.
“Sammael was showing me a new realm,” Gabriel answered, opting for truth. A blatant lie would have shown up in Gabriel’s grace what with how closely Raphael was scrutinizing him. “I did not realize my presence was so thoroughly cut off from the rest of the Host.” That was closer to a lie. The truth was that Gabriel simply hadn’t thought about how the Host would react to his loss, so overwhelmed was he by his loss of the Host. If he had taken the time to think about it, he would have realized the isolation had to work both ways. “I’m going to speak with Michael now.”
“Why should I let you past?”
“Because you can’t actually stop me.” Gabriel tweaked Raphael’s wing and winked at him before darting around his brother and up into Michael’s offices. Raphael was left snarling in his wake, but Gabriel ignored his brother’s foul mood to fly up two additional levels and slip through an ornately carved archway.
“You’re late.”
Michael was exactly where Gabriel had expected him to be, standing at one of the sealed windows on the top level of his tower, his thousand wings folded neatly (even the one Sammael had broken), hands clasped behind his back. Gabriel flexed his own wings before tucking them behind him, wishing they were a bit less wind-ruffled.
“I didn’t realize I had an appointment,” he said lightly, testing the waters to see what sort of mood Michael was in. The oldest Archangel was usually much mellower than Sammael, much less volatile, but when he snapped, he snapped hard and fast, his wrath slamming upon you with all the weight of a mountain.
“Your grace returned to this world hours ago. You took your time meeting with Sammael in the ocean. Getting your stories straight?”
Michael’s words were delivered in a flat monotone. The sheer absence of emotion was a huge warning, and Gabriel staggered back two steps. Michael was beyond merely upset. He was furious. At him. Michael’s grace showed the same lack of emotion as his voice, but Gabriel had witnessed enough of the fights between Michael and Sammael to know that while Sammael broadcasted his fury through his grace, Michael going blank foreshadowed explosive violence. Gabriel had to diffuse this situation quickly, before Michael’s control broke. Unfortunately, he had no experience to draw from for accomplishing that. Sammael never calmed Michael down. He always pushed for that snap.
Gabriel had always hypothesized that the best way to guide Michael away from the ledge of his anger was to say the two words Sammael always refused. Two words Gabriel knew Michael wanted to hear; two words Sammael would never say.
“I’m sorry.”
Apologies were not beneath Gabriel. He offered Michael no excuses, no vague explanations or half-truths. He simply ducked his head and waited for the result.
The tension was already bleeding out of the room, and Michael turned away from the window. Now his grace reflected his emotions-anger was there, yes, but so was fear, despair, a thread of pain, of joy, and a wash of overwhelming relief. Michael wiped his grace blank again, leaving only a soft blanket of the calm peace he encouraged all angels to radiate, but Gabriel knew the momentary display had been deliberate. He lifted his head, flying to his older brother, embracing him with arms and wings.
“I’m sorry, Michael, I am! I didn’t realize you’d think…I’m sorry!”
Michael returned Gabriel’s hug, though he kept the wing Sammael had broken tucked stiffly behind his back. “I’m just glad you’re unhurt, Little One. I didn’t want to think Sammael could have harmed you, but after his display before the Seraphim, anything was possible.”
“And you?” Gabriel reached behind Michael to touch his injured wing. Michael flinched away from Gabriel’s fingers.
“I am not healed,” the older angel admitted.
“How is that possible?” Gabriel demanded, frowning at his brother. “Even I admit Raphael is a phenomenal healer!”
Unlike grace or physical bodies, angelic wings and spirits could not heal on their own. Any injury, no matter how small, required the assistance of another angel’s grace to begin to mend. Manna could be used as a substitute, the angels had discovered, but nothing equaled the relief of a trained healer laying their hands upon the injuries. Gabriel couldn’t understand how Michael’s wing could look so much better than when Sammael first broke it and yet still be damaged.
“I didn’t let him.” Michael’s uninjured wings tightened around Gabriel, and he drew the younger angel’s hand away from his injury. “He healed me enough so I can fold my wing and appear uninjured to the rest of the Host-thank you for handling the Seraphim-but I asked him to stop at that. I’ll let him finish when Sammael has rejoined us here, where he belongs, and no sooner.”
“So you do want him home.”
“Of course I do!” Michael looked scandalized that Gabriel could even have thought Michael didn’t. “Sammael is my brother, my partner. He brings light into my world and my life. Without him, I am as incomplete and weakened as my broken wing.”
“I told him that,” Gabriel seized Michael’s arms, feeling his own hope growing within his grace. “I told him you wanted him home. He wants to come home.”
Perhaps that was stretching the truth a bit, but Gabriel was sure Sammael would remember what a paradise Heaven could be once he came back.
“His return is entirely dependent on his behavior.” Michael closed his eyes tiredly. “Do you think that-”
“Michael!”
The brothers were interrupted by Filiel’s sudden appearance in the room, his grace spiking in distress. Filiel was Michael’s second, the oldest of the Seraphim. He was much larger than Gabriel, nearly equal in height to Raphael, but far broader across the shoulders. Gabriel knew that when Filiel fought, he wielded a sword of his grace in two hands, effortlessly cutting bloody swathes through their enemies. Filiel was a strong brother, a loyal one, and he was utterly devoted to Michael. In return, Michael trusted Filiel above even the other Archangels sometimes, frequently leaving this Seraph in charge of all of Heaven when he went out on his own business. He had never once offered to leave Heaven in Gabriel or Sammael’s hands.
Michael released Gabriel and stepped around him to greet his Seraph, his annoyance barely glittering in his grace. Like Gabriel with Cariel, Michael seemed incapable of being too upset at his lieutenant.
Gabriel wondered if Filiel ever kissed Michael.
“My apologies for not asking for an audience,” Filiel said, in a deep voice emanating from his barrel-like chest. He attempted to bow, but didn’t get very low. “I have urgent matters, a report from one of Gabriel’s choir. Barachiel.”
“Barachiel’s angels watch over and guide all of the natural forces on Earth,” Gabriel said, to remind Michael which brother Barachiel was. “Barachiel himself is one of my highest ranked Seraphim, first class.”
“What is so urgent about this report?” Michael asked, voicing Gabriel’s thoughts.
“Eve.”
Filiel didn’t have to say anything else before Michael was shouting a summons to Raphael. Gabriel winced, glancing nervously to the window as if he could see her. Eve. The Mother of All. Colloquially known as the evil bitch who delighted in spawning horrific monsters capable of injuring and even killing angels. Eve and her children had so far been responsible for every angelic death to date, all fifty-six of them. A disproportionate number of those were from Gabriel’s own choir. Eve and her children had called Earth their home, and Gabriel’s angels were usually the first to encounter her, much to their misfortune. Even Raphael’s angels, facing the creatures of the Borderlands, weren’t so frequently endangered.
“Report on Purgatory,” Michael snapped, whirling on Raphael as soon as the Archangel appeared. “Now!”
“Nothing!” Raphael floundered for words, actually looking to Gabriel for help. Gabriel took pity on his twin, silently slotting Eve’s name into Raphael’s mind. The Healer immediately straightened, folding his wings and reclaiming his legendary calm. “Purgatory has been silent since we last opened it. Nothing has attempted to escape, not even Eve.”
Gabriel remembered the last battle with Eve, roughly seventy-five hundred years ago. Castiel had inadvertently killed off the last male unicorns, and Eve had raged at the angels for murdering her children. She had sent her most powerful sons, the dragons, against the angels, hunting any divine creature they encountered across the globe. The angels had no way to fight back-even today, they had no weapons truly useful against an enraged dragon. Gabriel and Raphael had been forced to coordinate to beat back the scaled monsters, managing to corral them over the oceans and keep them away from innocent humans. Sammael had conceived the plan to hunt down Eve herself. With help from Michael and some of his angels, the two oldest angels had managed to drive Eve into the Borderlands, sealing her away in Purgatory forever-or so they all had hoped. The dragons had lost their fight when Eve was taken from them, many of them choosing to dive into the oceans and hide. Eventually, they had all slunk away from the angels, crawling into dark caves or the deepest depths of the seas to hibernate and mourn the loss of their Mother.
Raphael, watching over the Borderlands which contained the only known entrance to Purgatory, would have known if Eve had been stirring, trying to break free. If he said there was no danger, surely there was no danger.
Michael’s focus returned to Filiel. “Explain.”
“We believe Eve has found a way to contact her children. Barachiel reports dragon sightings. The beasts are waking up. Four active ones have been spotted already, headed toward Zhong guo and Ha-yam Ha-Gadol.”
“Two of the most populous and advanced civilizations among the humans,” Gabriel offered, when Michael looked to him for an Earthly geography lesson. “If the dragons attack there, the humans will be helpless. Their development will be crippled, possibly even permanently maimed.” Humans were more resilient than angels frequently gave them credit for, but if the two biggest centers of human knowledge were eradicated, Gabriel wasn’t sure they would have the heart to rebuild.
Ha-yam Ha-Gadol was the great salt sea near Sammael’s new realm, home to the Greeks and the Romans, the Egyptians, and most of the Chosen Ones of God, descendants of Michael and Sammael’s first vessels, the humans Nuriel’s angels walked among, teaching the ways of Heaven. Zhong guo was further to the east, a land of Emperors and great technological advancements. Gabriel was particularly fond of a hot drink they prepared from the leaves of a certain plant, though he tended to add sugar to mask the bitter flavor.
“We must intervene,” Michael decided. “Raphael, Gabriel, take your best garrisons to Earth, get them envesseled, and engage the dragons. Raphael, go to Zhong guo, Gabriel, Ha-yam Ha-Gadol. If nothing else, keep the dragons away from humanity as long as possible. I’ll go into the Borderlands to reopen Purgatory. We will lock these beasts away with their Mother.”
“With all due respect,” Raphael argued, “I should go to Purgatory.”
“You don’t know how to unseal the realm,” Michael countered. “And with all due respect, Raphael, I am not sending you into that danger. I know the evils buried in Purgatory far better than even you. I will go. You control the dragons until I am ready.”
“Michael, Sammael-” Gabriel began, but Michael cut him off with a slice of his hand.
“If Sammael wishes to help, we will welcome his assistance. Otherwise, we cannot afford to spare a thought for him until this immediate crisis is over. Clear?” Gabriel and Raphael both nodded their understanding, though neither bothered to keep their unease from their grace. “You have your orders. Go.”
Gabriel took off, calling to Cariel, Zachariah, and Barachiel, his top three Seraphim, all of whom had angels skilled in maneuvering on Earth and in vessels. Fighting dragons would be hard enough without worrying about novice angels in Earth’s atmosphere. He only hoped the angels of three Seraphim would be enough.
Next...
Notes: In this story, before Lucifer fell, his name was Sammael. He was not Lucifer in Heaven.
There is one other canon character operating under an OC name, but I wish for his identity to remain unknown.
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Chapter word count: 3,029
Chapter Summary: Gabriel has finally returned to Heaven, but just when he thinks he can fix things with Michael and Sammael, more trouble crops up.
CHAPTER 18:
To Michael
“Ma!” A young man just shy of fourteen summers came running out of Sorcha’s hut as soon as Gabriel landed, flinging his arms around her waist and squeezing her tightly. “I was worried!”
“I’m sorry,” Gabriel said, not hugging the boy back. “I didn’t mean to keep your mother so long. I lost track of time.”
“Oh! Gabriel!” The youth, Artur, knew about the divine protector of his mother’s family. While he wasn’t as attuned to Gabriel’s spirit as Sorcha, he had met the angel before when Gabriel took his mother as her vessel. “I figured Ma was with you since the food never ran low, but I was still worried.”
“I’ll always protect your mother,” Gabriel said, repeating a constant promise she made to all her vessels. “And you.” A few simple runes carved into the walls of this home constantly generated minor miracles. Whenever Gabriel took Sorcha, the runes made sure Artur never went hungry or cold and nothing ever attacked his home. Sorcha didn’t like this “cheating” when she actually was home, so Gabriel made sure the spells only activated when Sorcha was gone. “Did you need anything else, before I go?”
Artur pointed to his knee and grinned unashamedly at the angel. Gabriel knelt down to inspect the nasty cut across the joint. “Your mother would have this heal naturally, so you learn your lesson and watch your feet next time.”
“But Ma’s not paying attention right now…” Artur wheedled.
Gabriel laughed and leaned forward to kiss Artur’s knee, healing the skin. Human injuries were much easier to attend to than angelic ones. “There. All better. Our little secret?”
Artur grinned and hugged Gabriel again, but Gabriel knew the young man was hugging herthis time and not his mother. It warmed her heart to have the love of this family, and she returned the embrace. “You be good for your mother, Artur. I have to return to my home now.”
“Safe flight, Gabriel!”
“Safe life, Artur.” Gabriel cupped Artur’s face and smiled one last time at him before brushing her fingers over his eyelids. He closed his eyes obediently, keeping his arms loosely wrapped around her as Gabriel slid out of Sorcha’s body. The woman sagged against her son, and Gabriel waited only long enough to confirm Sorcha was undamaged by the extended use of her body before winging his way back to Heaven.
Michael’s tree-like tower, growing up in the northern quadrant of Heaven, was the center of Heaven’s bureaucracy, and that was where Gabriel flew. Zachariah and Cariel had been instructed to return to their duties and leave “Sammael” alone. With Sorcha safely returned to her family, the only pressing thing left for Gabriel was to report to his own brother.
The tower was buzzing with activity as Michael’s angels kept a close eye on the running of the celestial realm. Countless Cherubim and Angels darted in and out of the “trunk,” as busy as a hive of bees. Gabriel bypassed the lower levels entirely and flew through the highest open knot. This was the lowest floor of Michael’s three private levels, usually guarded by two of his Seraphim. When Michael was working, he did not like interruptions.
The usual Seraphim were absent from the door today, but Castiel stood outside it, staring determinedly at the polished wood.
“If you want to knock it down, you’ll need to add a bit of grace to that glare.” Gabriel landed beside Castiel, clapping his hand on the younger angel’s shoulder. “Did you deliver my message?”
“Gabriel!” Castiel jumped, taken by surprise by the Archangel. Dismay flickered through Castiel’s grace, quickly smothered. “No. I tried, but you ordered me to go to Michael directly, and Raphael is guarding the door. He won’t let me in.” The young angel’s wings drooped in his failure. “Raphael doesn’t care for me.”
“Nooo, that’s not…” Gabriel laughed and ran his fingers through the feathers of Castiel’s wings. “Nah, I lie. That’s absolutely true, but it’s not just you. Raphael doesn’t like most of us. You’re in good company.”
Castiel brightened at the touch and reassurance. “I am sorry I have not-”
Gabriel interrupted with a dismissive wave. “My own fault. I should have remembered how tightly Michael locks down during a crisis. Return to your duties, Castiel. You can report to Anael that I was very pleased with your efforts on my behalf.”
“Yes, Gabriel.” Castiel was absolutely glowing as he took off again. Gabriel watched him fly for a moment. That was one little brother who needed all the praise he could receive. Father had decidedly stacked the deck against him. Gabriel only wished he knew why.
Castiel wasn’t important right now. Gabriel needed to report to Michael and get him to talk to Sammael again. If only five days had passed instead of the year or two he had feared earlier, then Michael might not have calmed down enough to have a productive discussion with Sammael, but if only five days had passed, then Michael might not be upset enough with Gabriel to refuse to listen to reason. He pushed the door open with a flick of his wrist and strode into Michael’s chambers.
Raphael met Gabriel just inside with his sword in his hand. He radiated displeasure as he circled his twin. Gabriel stood still, letting Raphael scrutinize his grace for any threat. “You’re not dead.”
“You sound disappointed.” Gabriel spread his wings and turned his hands so Raphael could see he held no surprises.
Raphael narrowed his eyes at his twin, reluctantly sheathing his sword. Gabriel knew the other Archangel would love an excuse to run him through, so he made sure not to present one. Honestly, the feeling was nearly mutual. If Gabriel ever had the stomach to draw his blade against a brother, he was sure Raphael would be the one he was facing down.
“Where have you been?” Raphael demanded, still circling Gabriel even though his weapons were put away.
“Sammael was showing me a new realm,” Gabriel answered, opting for truth. A blatant lie would have shown up in Gabriel’s grace what with how closely Raphael was scrutinizing him. “I did not realize my presence was so thoroughly cut off from the rest of the Host.” That was closer to a lie. The truth was that Gabriel simply hadn’t thought about how the Host would react to his loss, so overwhelmed was he by his loss of the Host. If he had taken the time to think about it, he would have realized the isolation had to work both ways. “I’m going to speak with Michael now.”
“Why should I let you past?”
“Because you can’t actually stop me.” Gabriel tweaked Raphael’s wing and winked at him before darting around his brother and up into Michael’s offices. Raphael was left snarling in his wake, but Gabriel ignored his brother’s foul mood to fly up two additional levels and slip through an ornately carved archway.
“You’re late.”
Michael was exactly where Gabriel had expected him to be, standing at one of the sealed windows on the top level of his tower, his thousand wings folded neatly (even the one Sammael had broken), hands clasped behind his back. Gabriel flexed his own wings before tucking them behind him, wishing they were a bit less wind-ruffled.
“I didn’t realize I had an appointment,” he said lightly, testing the waters to see what sort of mood Michael was in. The oldest Archangel was usually much mellower than Sammael, much less volatile, but when he snapped, he snapped hard and fast, his wrath slamming upon you with all the weight of a mountain.
“Your grace returned to this world hours ago. You took your time meeting with Sammael in the ocean. Getting your stories straight?”
Michael’s words were delivered in a flat monotone. The sheer absence of emotion was a huge warning, and Gabriel staggered back two steps. Michael was beyond merely upset. He was furious. At him. Michael’s grace showed the same lack of emotion as his voice, but Gabriel had witnessed enough of the fights between Michael and Sammael to know that while Sammael broadcasted his fury through his grace, Michael going blank foreshadowed explosive violence. Gabriel had to diffuse this situation quickly, before Michael’s control broke. Unfortunately, he had no experience to draw from for accomplishing that. Sammael never calmed Michael down. He always pushed for that snap.
Gabriel had always hypothesized that the best way to guide Michael away from the ledge of his anger was to say the two words Sammael always refused. Two words Gabriel knew Michael wanted to hear; two words Sammael would never say.
“I’m sorry.”
Apologies were not beneath Gabriel. He offered Michael no excuses, no vague explanations or half-truths. He simply ducked his head and waited for the result.
The tension was already bleeding out of the room, and Michael turned away from the window. Now his grace reflected his emotions-anger was there, yes, but so was fear, despair, a thread of pain, of joy, and a wash of overwhelming relief. Michael wiped his grace blank again, leaving only a soft blanket of the calm peace he encouraged all angels to radiate, but Gabriel knew the momentary display had been deliberate. He lifted his head, flying to his older brother, embracing him with arms and wings.
“I’m sorry, Michael, I am! I didn’t realize you’d think…I’m sorry!”
Michael returned Gabriel’s hug, though he kept the wing Sammael had broken tucked stiffly behind his back. “I’m just glad you’re unhurt, Little One. I didn’t want to think Sammael could have harmed you, but after his display before the Seraphim, anything was possible.”
“And you?” Gabriel reached behind Michael to touch his injured wing. Michael flinched away from Gabriel’s fingers.
“I am not healed,” the older angel admitted.
“How is that possible?” Gabriel demanded, frowning at his brother. “Even I admit Raphael is a phenomenal healer!”
Unlike grace or physical bodies, angelic wings and spirits could not heal on their own. Any injury, no matter how small, required the assistance of another angel’s grace to begin to mend. Manna could be used as a substitute, the angels had discovered, but nothing equaled the relief of a trained healer laying their hands upon the injuries. Gabriel couldn’t understand how Michael’s wing could look so much better than when Sammael first broke it and yet still be damaged.
“I didn’t let him.” Michael’s uninjured wings tightened around Gabriel, and he drew the younger angel’s hand away from his injury. “He healed me enough so I can fold my wing and appear uninjured to the rest of the Host-thank you for handling the Seraphim-but I asked him to stop at that. I’ll let him finish when Sammael has rejoined us here, where he belongs, and no sooner.”
“So you do want him home.”
“Of course I do!” Michael looked scandalized that Gabriel could even have thought Michael didn’t. “Sammael is my brother, my partner. He brings light into my world and my life. Without him, I am as incomplete and weakened as my broken wing.”
“I told him that,” Gabriel seized Michael’s arms, feeling his own hope growing within his grace. “I told him you wanted him home. He wants to come home.”
Perhaps that was stretching the truth a bit, but Gabriel was sure Sammael would remember what a paradise Heaven could be once he came back.
“His return is entirely dependent on his behavior.” Michael closed his eyes tiredly. “Do you think that-”
“Michael!”
The brothers were interrupted by Filiel’s sudden appearance in the room, his grace spiking in distress. Filiel was Michael’s second, the oldest of the Seraphim. He was much larger than Gabriel, nearly equal in height to Raphael, but far broader across the shoulders. Gabriel knew that when Filiel fought, he wielded a sword of his grace in two hands, effortlessly cutting bloody swathes through their enemies. Filiel was a strong brother, a loyal one, and he was utterly devoted to Michael. In return, Michael trusted Filiel above even the other Archangels sometimes, frequently leaving this Seraph in charge of all of Heaven when he went out on his own business. He had never once offered to leave Heaven in Gabriel or Sammael’s hands.
Michael released Gabriel and stepped around him to greet his Seraph, his annoyance barely glittering in his grace. Like Gabriel with Cariel, Michael seemed incapable of being too upset at his lieutenant.
Gabriel wondered if Filiel ever kissed Michael.
“My apologies for not asking for an audience,” Filiel said, in a deep voice emanating from his barrel-like chest. He attempted to bow, but didn’t get very low. “I have urgent matters, a report from one of Gabriel’s choir. Barachiel.”
“Barachiel’s angels watch over and guide all of the natural forces on Earth,” Gabriel said, to remind Michael which brother Barachiel was. “Barachiel himself is one of my highest ranked Seraphim, first class.”
“What is so urgent about this report?” Michael asked, voicing Gabriel’s thoughts.
“Eve.”
Filiel didn’t have to say anything else before Michael was shouting a summons to Raphael. Gabriel winced, glancing nervously to the window as if he could see her. Eve. The Mother of All. Colloquially known as the evil bitch who delighted in spawning horrific monsters capable of injuring and even killing angels. Eve and her children had so far been responsible for every angelic death to date, all fifty-six of them. A disproportionate number of those were from Gabriel’s own choir. Eve and her children had called Earth their home, and Gabriel’s angels were usually the first to encounter her, much to their misfortune. Even Raphael’s angels, facing the creatures of the Borderlands, weren’t so frequently endangered.
“Report on Purgatory,” Michael snapped, whirling on Raphael as soon as the Archangel appeared. “Now!”
“Nothing!” Raphael floundered for words, actually looking to Gabriel for help. Gabriel took pity on his twin, silently slotting Eve’s name into Raphael’s mind. The Healer immediately straightened, folding his wings and reclaiming his legendary calm. “Purgatory has been silent since we last opened it. Nothing has attempted to escape, not even Eve.”
Gabriel remembered the last battle with Eve, roughly seventy-five hundred years ago. Castiel had inadvertently killed off the last male unicorns, and Eve had raged at the angels for murdering her children. She had sent her most powerful sons, the dragons, against the angels, hunting any divine creature they encountered across the globe. The angels had no way to fight back-even today, they had no weapons truly useful against an enraged dragon. Gabriel and Raphael had been forced to coordinate to beat back the scaled monsters, managing to corral them over the oceans and keep them away from innocent humans. Sammael had conceived the plan to hunt down Eve herself. With help from Michael and some of his angels, the two oldest angels had managed to drive Eve into the Borderlands, sealing her away in Purgatory forever-or so they all had hoped. The dragons had lost their fight when Eve was taken from them, many of them choosing to dive into the oceans and hide. Eventually, they had all slunk away from the angels, crawling into dark caves or the deepest depths of the seas to hibernate and mourn the loss of their Mother.
Raphael, watching over the Borderlands which contained the only known entrance to Purgatory, would have known if Eve had been stirring, trying to break free. If he said there was no danger, surely there was no danger.
Michael’s focus returned to Filiel. “Explain.”
“We believe Eve has found a way to contact her children. Barachiel reports dragon sightings. The beasts are waking up. Four active ones have been spotted already, headed toward Zhong guo and Ha-yam Ha-Gadol.”
“Two of the most populous and advanced civilizations among the humans,” Gabriel offered, when Michael looked to him for an Earthly geography lesson. “If the dragons attack there, the humans will be helpless. Their development will be crippled, possibly even permanently maimed.” Humans were more resilient than angels frequently gave them credit for, but if the two biggest centers of human knowledge were eradicated, Gabriel wasn’t sure they would have the heart to rebuild.
Ha-yam Ha-Gadol was the great salt sea near Sammael’s new realm, home to the Greeks and the Romans, the Egyptians, and most of the Chosen Ones of God, descendants of Michael and Sammael’s first vessels, the humans Nuriel’s angels walked among, teaching the ways of Heaven. Zhong guo was further to the east, a land of Emperors and great technological advancements. Gabriel was particularly fond of a hot drink they prepared from the leaves of a certain plant, though he tended to add sugar to mask the bitter flavor.
“We must intervene,” Michael decided. “Raphael, Gabriel, take your best garrisons to Earth, get them envesseled, and engage the dragons. Raphael, go to Zhong guo, Gabriel, Ha-yam Ha-Gadol. If nothing else, keep the dragons away from humanity as long as possible. I’ll go into the Borderlands to reopen Purgatory. We will lock these beasts away with their Mother.”
“With all due respect,” Raphael argued, “I should go to Purgatory.”
“You don’t know how to unseal the realm,” Michael countered. “And with all due respect, Raphael, I am not sending you into that danger. I know the evils buried in Purgatory far better than even you. I will go. You control the dragons until I am ready.”
“Michael, Sammael-” Gabriel began, but Michael cut him off with a slice of his hand.
“If Sammael wishes to help, we will welcome his assistance. Otherwise, we cannot afford to spare a thought for him until this immediate crisis is over. Clear?” Gabriel and Raphael both nodded their understanding, though neither bothered to keep their unease from their grace. “You have your orders. Go.”
Gabriel took off, calling to Cariel, Zachariah, and Barachiel, his top three Seraphim, all of whom had angels skilled in maneuvering on Earth and in vessels. Fighting dragons would be hard enough without worrying about novice angels in Earth’s atmosphere. He only hoped the angels of three Seraphim would be enough.
Next...