Fic: A History of Heaven (Gabriel/Various Angels, PG-13 for this chapter) 27/59
For full notes and other chapters, please see the Masterpost.
Notes: Sammael = Lucifer
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Chapter word count: 2,435
Chapter Summary: Azazel has a message for Gabriel, but all may not be as it seems.
CHAPTER 27:
A Chance of Treason
Nephilim. The glowing-eyed humans who could fight an angel hand to hand and win were called Nephilim. They covered the world, showing up everywhere humans had settled down. In larger cities, packs of Nephilim banded together to tear down any angel they caught alone. They were the most dangerous creatures any angel had ever faced, as they could easily blend in with the masses of humanity when not engaged in battle. Raphael’s angels could not distinguish human from monster and were frequently caught off-guard. The Nephilim were capable of identifying an angel riding in a human vessel just on sight alone, and many of them were willing to kill the human to end the angel.
Gabriel hoped they’d find out where these Nephilm had come from soon. Most of the war was being run through Raphael, but Gabriel’s angels working on Earth were just as much of targets as the warriors, if not more so. The Nephilim always seemed to know exactly where Gabriel’s angels worked, and they were especially adept at disarming angels and using their own swords against them. Barachiel had gone so far as to forbid his angels to wield their blades as long as their opponents did not have one. Several other Seraphim were starting to see the wisdom of this order. So long as the Nephilim did not have an angel-forged blade, they could not kill angels. If an angel could escape back to Heaven alive, there was a good chance that they could be healed and return to the Host. Still, many angels disappeared every day on Earth. Many of Sammael's former angels had entered Gabriel's choir, gone to their first assignment on the planet, and never returned.
“Gabriel.”
Gabriel looked up from his musings to see Azazel standing in his doorway. The Seraph bowed slightly to the Archangel, precisely the correct angle as was polite between an Archangel and another’s second. He had graciously accepted Michael’s offer of employment and was already a much better lieutenant than Naomi had been, not that she’d had the time to mess much up. The golden-eyed angel was quiet and serene, always with a little smile on his face no matter what he was saying or hearing.
A downside to Azazel taking over in Michael’s choir was that Michael himself was much less available now. Azazel kept the Archangel busy all day, with every last minute scheduled out. He did include plenty of rest in his schedule, but when Michael was resting, he was absolutely not allowed to be disturbed. Michael was still weakened from his battle with Lucifer, his spirit scarred and pitted. Raphael had done his best, but even the Healer had his limits. Michael needed to heal naturally now.
Michael had allowed Raphael to finally heal his broken wing. Sammael is never coming home, he had whispered against Gabriel’s shoulder. I cannot afford weakness any longer.
Gabriel had watched a part of Michael die as his wing was fused back together. He had wanted to cry for his brother, for both of them, but he could only force himself to remain strong and hold Michael. I won’t leave you, he had thought desperately, willing Michael to know he wasn’t alone.
“Sorry,” Gabriel said, giving a little shake of his head. “Just… been overwhelmed. Come in, Azazel. How can I help you?”
“Michael has a mission for you.” Azazel stepped forward, presenting Gabriel with a piece of paper held in both hands. Gabriel frowned a little as he accepted it, scanning the note from his brother.
“He… wants me to visit Lucifer?”
“Your name was carved deeper than his own, and Lucifer has always had a special fondness for you.”
“Lucifer hates me,” Gabriel corrected, setting the paper on his desk. “Sammael liked me, but Lucifer is pissed off.”
“Please,” Azazel said, still with that damnable smile as he gave a little shake of his head. “I know my bo-my former boss. Whether he is Sammael or Lucifer, you were always his favorite brother.”
“I don’t think you knew him as well as you think,” Gabriel said dryly, pushing away from his desk. “Michael-”
“He loved Michael differently.” Azazel slipped around to Gabriel’s side again. He was taller than the Archangel by a head. Gabriel would have thought he’d be used to it, after millions of years, but it still rankled him sometimes that about half the Seraphim could look down on him if they really wanted to. “You were the one he swore to protect, the moment you opened your eyes. He would listen to you.”
“And what am I supposed to say? Please, Lucifer, come home, we’ll forgive you?”
“Don’t patronize him. Unless you want him to separate your head from your shoulders.” Even that was said with Azazel’s smile. Gabriel wondered if Azazel was patronizing him. “Michael wants to hear his demands. He wants to know what Lucifer would consider a successful end to this war.”
“And your former boss didn’t bother to tell you that, what with how chummy you two were?” Gabriel folded his arms and turned away from Azazel again, aware that he was being petulant. He didn’t want to return to Lucifer’s realm. Michael was right-there was nothing incredible about it. Not anymore. And his name. Gabriel shivered at the thought of his name carved into that cold rock, the yellow pus poisoning his very essence. Every time he passed into that realm, he risked falling into corruption, just like Sammael had.
“Lucifer kept certain topics closed,” Azazel explained calmly. “We knew he wasn’t happy in Heaven. None of us anticipated this.”
“None of you? Really?” Gabriel turned a skeptical eye on the younger angel, but Azazel just smiled at him, his grace innocently blank.
“None of us.”
Quiet meetings on Earth came to Gabriel’s mind, clusters of angels gathering around his exiled brother, excited whispers, eager nods when Sammael declared his disgust with humanity. Gabriel had always given his brother privacy when he met with his angels, but now he found himself wishing he actually had paid closer attention. Azazel had been a frequent visitor during Sammael’s exile, and now Azazel was the second most powerful angel in the Choir of Heaven. In some regards, Azazel controlled Michael. Gabriel turned slowly to face his younger brother, studying those inscrutable golden eyes, that clever little smile that never changed, that innocent grace that gave nothing away. “Is this order from Michael,” he asked quietly, “or from you?”
“I would not dream of abusing my power so,” Azazel answered. “I serve the wishes of my choirmaster, nothing more.”
Who is your choirmaster? Gabriel wanted to demand, but he knew Azazel would say Michael, regardless of what he truly thought. For the first time, he wished he had an angel like Alastair or Naomi in his choir, to tap into Azazel’s mind and tear the truth loose.
Alastair and Naomi were both in Michael’s choir. Every angel skilled in interrogation and re-education were in Michael’s choir. Orders in all the choirs were passed down through the seconds. Very rarely did an Archangel actually speak with the lower orders directly. Azazel effectively controlled Michael’s choir, and Michael was too weak and distracted to notice.
What was worse, Gabriel had given it to him. Raphael had suggested Azazel join his choir. Cariel would never have let Azazel take control. In his own choir, Azazel’s potential for deceit and destruction could have been neutralized.
I’m being paranoid, Gabriel told himself. No angel would be so treasonous.
No angel had ever been in Azazel’s position, though, torn between two Archangels. Azazel had served under Sammael since the dawn of time. He had only served under Michael for a month.
The Seraph was not flinching from Gabriel’s scrutiny. His composure didn’t flicker. Nothing about him hinted at where his true loyalties lay.
Azazel slowly cocked his head to the side. “Is something wrong, Gabriel?”
“No,” Gabriel answered quickly, following the word with a little smile. “Why don't you go back to Michael? I'll attend to this as soon as I have a free moment.” Azazel glanced around Gabriel's empty office and said nothing. Gabriel flicked his wings. “I'm expecting a report from Cariel any moment now. Once he's done, I'll speak with Lucifer.”
“Of course.” Azazel inclined his head to Gabriel, his smile never wavering. “Michael looks forward to your response.”
Gabriel waited until Azazel had flown before sinking heavily into his chair. Cariel! He called to his second over his choir's broadcast, his voice automatically louder than the normal buzz of idle chatter.
Oooh, someone's in trou~ble!
Barachiel's sing-song response made Gabriel laugh, though he wasn't sure how much of that was from genuine amusement and how much was simply his building stress. It was still nice to know that some of his angels, at least, were able to keep up their good spirits despite the Nephilim hounding their steps constantly. Yes, Barach, and once we're done discussing what to do with you, we'll let you know.
Gabriel tuned out the giggling responses of Barachiel's angels, teasing their Seraph. His door had opened, and Cariel slipped inside. “You called?” Gabriel simply gestured to the order from Michael, snapping his fingers to close the door behind Cariel.
Cariel drew up a seat with a wave of his hand, taking the paper and scanning it, a frown growing on his face. “Gabriel, this is-”
“Dangerous,” Gabriel finished for Cariel. “Suicidal? Stupid, that's what it is.”
“Did he say why?”
“Michael wants to know what Lucifer would consider a successful victory.”
The two angels just looked at each other for a moment, Cariel's eyes narrowing as he rolled this over in his mind. “Why would he care?”
“Because he doesn't want to kill Lucifer? That's the only victory we're looking at right now.” Gabriel slumped back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the arm. “Cariel?”
“Yes, Boss?”
“Do you like Azazel?”
“Azazel?” Cariel went along with the apparent topic change easily, rubbing his chin as he considered his brother. “Azazel's definitely loyal, and I do value that.”
“But loyal to which Archangel?” Gabriel watched realization dawn on Cariel's face. He felt better just knowing that his second was considering Azazel being a traitor as a genuine possibility. It wasn't complete paranoia if it could be true, right?
“Would Michael allow that to happen? In his own choir?”
“Michael's weak right now,” Gabriel admitted. “He's still recovering; Raphael could only do so much. Michael rests and meditates when he's not being run ragged by commanding the entire Host in this war. And,” Gabriel hesitated to confide in Cariel, but if there was any angel he could trust right now, it was his own lieutenant, “don't spread this around, but when I was missing, Raphael and Filiel were actually running Heaven for him. Michael lost his mind or something. Raphael didn't go into details.”
“No,” Cariel said, shaking his head. “We would have known. Michael was still directing everyone's movements. He took over this choir in your absence.”
“With orders like that one?” Gabriel asked, nodding to the paper Cariel held. “Dictated to and signed by his second in command?”
“Raphael was dictating to Filiel?”
“Or Filiel was writing them himself.” Gabriel spread his arms. “We've always taken it on trust that an Archangel's second speaks with their voice. You're probably the craftiest Seraph in the Host, and even you didn't doubt the validity of the orders.”
“Well… bollocks,” Cariel finally declared. “How can you tell if this is Michael's order or Azazel's?”
“I can't. Not unless I talk to Michael directly.” Gabriel pressed his fingertips together in front of his mouth. Getting on Michael's schedule these days was next to impossible, even for the Archangels. “And to do that, I'd have to go through Azazel.”
“Does he suspect?” Cariel pushed himself to his feet, pacing around the room. His wings were twitching agitatedly.
Gabriel nodded. “I… wasn't exactly the most subtle with him. But it's Azazel. He doesn't give anything away.”
“Well, you can't go.” Cariel gave the paper a shake. “This is the perfect way to get you killed. Send you to Lucifer, on 'Michael's' orders, to a place no one can follow? You can't do this.”
“If I don't, and the orders are from Michael?”
“Tell him they're stupid! Say no!”
“Rebel?” Gabriel cocked his head to the side. “Really, Cariel, you think that's what Michael needs right now?”
“Better you rebel and hurt his feelings than you get killed.”
“What if… what if Lucifer really does want to talk?”
“You can't be serious!” Cariel slammed his hands down on Gabriel's desk, a wild desperation born of fear flickering through his grace. He was scared for Gabriel, for his well-being.
“Hear me out.” Gabriel held up a hand, palm out. “Azazel said I had nothing to fear. He said he knows Lucifer, and Lucifer loves me.”
“Lucifer also loved Michael, and look how that turned out!”
“He said I was Lucifer's favorite.”
“Michael-”
“He said I'd be safe.” Gabriel let his hand drop into his lap, still holding Cariel's gaze. “Maybe… maybe Lucifer really does want to talk. Maybe Azazel is trying to broker a truce.”
“Do you honestly believe that?” Cariel sank back into his chair, his grace now dismayed. “Azazel shouldn't be trusted!”
“I don't know.” Gabriel closed his eyes, tipping his head back. “I don't know, Cariel! I want to believe it. I want to end this war without losing another brother. I want… I want Sammael back.”
“You're going to go.” Cariel tucked his wings in tight against his back. “Even if it kills you.”
Gabriel looked solemnly at his Seraph. “I have to.”
“Such is the life of an Archangel,” Cariel muttered. He pressed his hands against his legs, staring into his lap for several minutes before looking over at Gabriel again. “Go to Raphael first. Tell him what your orders are. Ask him for help with your defense.”
“Cariel-”
“No!” Cariel flashed his wings out, scowling at the Archangel. “Your life is more important than your pride. Ask him for help. He can station angels in that cave for immediate backup. Don't let Lucifer take you far from the exit. If things go bad, run. Just… just come back. To us.”
Gabriel heard Cariel's unspoken To me almost as if Cariel had actually whispered it in his mind. He reached across his desk, his hand finding Cariel's shoulder. Cariel's wings twitched, and he looked away, his whole spirit tense.
“I'll come back,” Gabriel promised. “To you.”
Next...
Notes: Sammael = Lucifer
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Chapter word count: 2,435
Chapter Summary: Azazel has a message for Gabriel, but all may not be as it seems.
CHAPTER 27:
A Chance of Treason
Nephilim. The glowing-eyed humans who could fight an angel hand to hand and win were called Nephilim. They covered the world, showing up everywhere humans had settled down. In larger cities, packs of Nephilim banded together to tear down any angel they caught alone. They were the most dangerous creatures any angel had ever faced, as they could easily blend in with the masses of humanity when not engaged in battle. Raphael’s angels could not distinguish human from monster and were frequently caught off-guard. The Nephilim were capable of identifying an angel riding in a human vessel just on sight alone, and many of them were willing to kill the human to end the angel.
Gabriel hoped they’d find out where these Nephilm had come from soon. Most of the war was being run through Raphael, but Gabriel’s angels working on Earth were just as much of targets as the warriors, if not more so. The Nephilim always seemed to know exactly where Gabriel’s angels worked, and they were especially adept at disarming angels and using their own swords against them. Barachiel had gone so far as to forbid his angels to wield their blades as long as their opponents did not have one. Several other Seraphim were starting to see the wisdom of this order. So long as the Nephilim did not have an angel-forged blade, they could not kill angels. If an angel could escape back to Heaven alive, there was a good chance that they could be healed and return to the Host. Still, many angels disappeared every day on Earth. Many of Sammael's former angels had entered Gabriel's choir, gone to their first assignment on the planet, and never returned.
“Gabriel.”
Gabriel looked up from his musings to see Azazel standing in his doorway. The Seraph bowed slightly to the Archangel, precisely the correct angle as was polite between an Archangel and another’s second. He had graciously accepted Michael’s offer of employment and was already a much better lieutenant than Naomi had been, not that she’d had the time to mess much up. The golden-eyed angel was quiet and serene, always with a little smile on his face no matter what he was saying or hearing.
A downside to Azazel taking over in Michael’s choir was that Michael himself was much less available now. Azazel kept the Archangel busy all day, with every last minute scheduled out. He did include plenty of rest in his schedule, but when Michael was resting, he was absolutely not allowed to be disturbed. Michael was still weakened from his battle with Lucifer, his spirit scarred and pitted. Raphael had done his best, but even the Healer had his limits. Michael needed to heal naturally now.
Michael had allowed Raphael to finally heal his broken wing. Sammael is never coming home, he had whispered against Gabriel’s shoulder. I cannot afford weakness any longer.
Gabriel had watched a part of Michael die as his wing was fused back together. He had wanted to cry for his brother, for both of them, but he could only force himself to remain strong and hold Michael. I won’t leave you, he had thought desperately, willing Michael to know he wasn’t alone.
“Sorry,” Gabriel said, giving a little shake of his head. “Just… been overwhelmed. Come in, Azazel. How can I help you?”
“Michael has a mission for you.” Azazel stepped forward, presenting Gabriel with a piece of paper held in both hands. Gabriel frowned a little as he accepted it, scanning the note from his brother.
“He… wants me to visit Lucifer?”
“Your name was carved deeper than his own, and Lucifer has always had a special fondness for you.”
“Lucifer hates me,” Gabriel corrected, setting the paper on his desk. “Sammael liked me, but Lucifer is pissed off.”
“Please,” Azazel said, still with that damnable smile as he gave a little shake of his head. “I know my bo-my former boss. Whether he is Sammael or Lucifer, you were always his favorite brother.”
“I don’t think you knew him as well as you think,” Gabriel said dryly, pushing away from his desk. “Michael-”
“He loved Michael differently.” Azazel slipped around to Gabriel’s side again. He was taller than the Archangel by a head. Gabriel would have thought he’d be used to it, after millions of years, but it still rankled him sometimes that about half the Seraphim could look down on him if they really wanted to. “You were the one he swore to protect, the moment you opened your eyes. He would listen to you.”
“And what am I supposed to say? Please, Lucifer, come home, we’ll forgive you?”
“Don’t patronize him. Unless you want him to separate your head from your shoulders.” Even that was said with Azazel’s smile. Gabriel wondered if Azazel was patronizing him. “Michael wants to hear his demands. He wants to know what Lucifer would consider a successful end to this war.”
“And your former boss didn’t bother to tell you that, what with how chummy you two were?” Gabriel folded his arms and turned away from Azazel again, aware that he was being petulant. He didn’t want to return to Lucifer’s realm. Michael was right-there was nothing incredible about it. Not anymore. And his name. Gabriel shivered at the thought of his name carved into that cold rock, the yellow pus poisoning his very essence. Every time he passed into that realm, he risked falling into corruption, just like Sammael had.
“Lucifer kept certain topics closed,” Azazel explained calmly. “We knew he wasn’t happy in Heaven. None of us anticipated this.”
“None of you? Really?” Gabriel turned a skeptical eye on the younger angel, but Azazel just smiled at him, his grace innocently blank.
“None of us.”
Quiet meetings on Earth came to Gabriel’s mind, clusters of angels gathering around his exiled brother, excited whispers, eager nods when Sammael declared his disgust with humanity. Gabriel had always given his brother privacy when he met with his angels, but now he found himself wishing he actually had paid closer attention. Azazel had been a frequent visitor during Sammael’s exile, and now Azazel was the second most powerful angel in the Choir of Heaven. In some regards, Azazel controlled Michael. Gabriel turned slowly to face his younger brother, studying those inscrutable golden eyes, that clever little smile that never changed, that innocent grace that gave nothing away. “Is this order from Michael,” he asked quietly, “or from you?”
“I would not dream of abusing my power so,” Azazel answered. “I serve the wishes of my choirmaster, nothing more.”
Who is your choirmaster? Gabriel wanted to demand, but he knew Azazel would say Michael, regardless of what he truly thought. For the first time, he wished he had an angel like Alastair or Naomi in his choir, to tap into Azazel’s mind and tear the truth loose.
Alastair and Naomi were both in Michael’s choir. Every angel skilled in interrogation and re-education were in Michael’s choir. Orders in all the choirs were passed down through the seconds. Very rarely did an Archangel actually speak with the lower orders directly. Azazel effectively controlled Michael’s choir, and Michael was too weak and distracted to notice.
What was worse, Gabriel had given it to him. Raphael had suggested Azazel join his choir. Cariel would never have let Azazel take control. In his own choir, Azazel’s potential for deceit and destruction could have been neutralized.
I’m being paranoid, Gabriel told himself. No angel would be so treasonous.
No angel had ever been in Azazel’s position, though, torn between two Archangels. Azazel had served under Sammael since the dawn of time. He had only served under Michael for a month.
The Seraph was not flinching from Gabriel’s scrutiny. His composure didn’t flicker. Nothing about him hinted at where his true loyalties lay.
Azazel slowly cocked his head to the side. “Is something wrong, Gabriel?”
“No,” Gabriel answered quickly, following the word with a little smile. “Why don't you go back to Michael? I'll attend to this as soon as I have a free moment.” Azazel glanced around Gabriel's empty office and said nothing. Gabriel flicked his wings. “I'm expecting a report from Cariel any moment now. Once he's done, I'll speak with Lucifer.”
“Of course.” Azazel inclined his head to Gabriel, his smile never wavering. “Michael looks forward to your response.”
Gabriel waited until Azazel had flown before sinking heavily into his chair. Cariel! He called to his second over his choir's broadcast, his voice automatically louder than the normal buzz of idle chatter.
Oooh, someone's in trou~ble!
Barachiel's sing-song response made Gabriel laugh, though he wasn't sure how much of that was from genuine amusement and how much was simply his building stress. It was still nice to know that some of his angels, at least, were able to keep up their good spirits despite the Nephilim hounding their steps constantly. Yes, Barach, and once we're done discussing what to do with you, we'll let you know.
Gabriel tuned out the giggling responses of Barachiel's angels, teasing their Seraph. His door had opened, and Cariel slipped inside. “You called?” Gabriel simply gestured to the order from Michael, snapping his fingers to close the door behind Cariel.
Cariel drew up a seat with a wave of his hand, taking the paper and scanning it, a frown growing on his face. “Gabriel, this is-”
“Dangerous,” Gabriel finished for Cariel. “Suicidal? Stupid, that's what it is.”
“Did he say why?”
“Michael wants to know what Lucifer would consider a successful victory.”
The two angels just looked at each other for a moment, Cariel's eyes narrowing as he rolled this over in his mind. “Why would he care?”
“Because he doesn't want to kill Lucifer? That's the only victory we're looking at right now.” Gabriel slumped back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the arm. “Cariel?”
“Yes, Boss?”
“Do you like Azazel?”
“Azazel?” Cariel went along with the apparent topic change easily, rubbing his chin as he considered his brother. “Azazel's definitely loyal, and I do value that.”
“But loyal to which Archangel?” Gabriel watched realization dawn on Cariel's face. He felt better just knowing that his second was considering Azazel being a traitor as a genuine possibility. It wasn't complete paranoia if it could be true, right?
“Would Michael allow that to happen? In his own choir?”
“Michael's weak right now,” Gabriel admitted. “He's still recovering; Raphael could only do so much. Michael rests and meditates when he's not being run ragged by commanding the entire Host in this war. And,” Gabriel hesitated to confide in Cariel, but if there was any angel he could trust right now, it was his own lieutenant, “don't spread this around, but when I was missing, Raphael and Filiel were actually running Heaven for him. Michael lost his mind or something. Raphael didn't go into details.”
“No,” Cariel said, shaking his head. “We would have known. Michael was still directing everyone's movements. He took over this choir in your absence.”
“With orders like that one?” Gabriel asked, nodding to the paper Cariel held. “Dictated to and signed by his second in command?”
“Raphael was dictating to Filiel?”
“Or Filiel was writing them himself.” Gabriel spread his arms. “We've always taken it on trust that an Archangel's second speaks with their voice. You're probably the craftiest Seraph in the Host, and even you didn't doubt the validity of the orders.”
“Well… bollocks,” Cariel finally declared. “How can you tell if this is Michael's order or Azazel's?”
“I can't. Not unless I talk to Michael directly.” Gabriel pressed his fingertips together in front of his mouth. Getting on Michael's schedule these days was next to impossible, even for the Archangels. “And to do that, I'd have to go through Azazel.”
“Does he suspect?” Cariel pushed himself to his feet, pacing around the room. His wings were twitching agitatedly.
Gabriel nodded. “I… wasn't exactly the most subtle with him. But it's Azazel. He doesn't give anything away.”
“Well, you can't go.” Cariel gave the paper a shake. “This is the perfect way to get you killed. Send you to Lucifer, on 'Michael's' orders, to a place no one can follow? You can't do this.”
“If I don't, and the orders are from Michael?”
“Tell him they're stupid! Say no!”
“Rebel?” Gabriel cocked his head to the side. “Really, Cariel, you think that's what Michael needs right now?”
“Better you rebel and hurt his feelings than you get killed.”
“What if… what if Lucifer really does want to talk?”
“You can't be serious!” Cariel slammed his hands down on Gabriel's desk, a wild desperation born of fear flickering through his grace. He was scared for Gabriel, for his well-being.
“Hear me out.” Gabriel held up a hand, palm out. “Azazel said I had nothing to fear. He said he knows Lucifer, and Lucifer loves me.”
“Lucifer also loved Michael, and look how that turned out!”
“He said I was Lucifer's favorite.”
“Michael-”
“He said I'd be safe.” Gabriel let his hand drop into his lap, still holding Cariel's gaze. “Maybe… maybe Lucifer really does want to talk. Maybe Azazel is trying to broker a truce.”
“Do you honestly believe that?” Cariel sank back into his chair, his grace now dismayed. “Azazel shouldn't be trusted!”
“I don't know.” Gabriel closed his eyes, tipping his head back. “I don't know, Cariel! I want to believe it. I want to end this war without losing another brother. I want… I want Sammael back.”
“You're going to go.” Cariel tucked his wings in tight against his back. “Even if it kills you.”
Gabriel looked solemnly at his Seraph. “I have to.”
“Such is the life of an Archangel,” Cariel muttered. He pressed his hands against his legs, staring into his lap for several minutes before looking over at Gabriel again. “Go to Raphael first. Tell him what your orders are. Ask him for help with your defense.”
“Cariel-”
“No!” Cariel flashed his wings out, scowling at the Archangel. “Your life is more important than your pride. Ask him for help. He can station angels in that cave for immediate backup. Don't let Lucifer take you far from the exit. If things go bad, run. Just… just come back. To us.”
Gabriel heard Cariel's unspoken To me almost as if Cariel had actually whispered it in his mind. He reached across his desk, his hand finding Cariel's shoulder. Cariel's wings twitched, and he looked away, his whole spirit tense.
“I'll come back,” Gabriel promised. “To you.”
Next...