Fic: The Left Behind (Various Angels, PG) 5/6
For full notes and other chapters, please see the Masterpost.
Notes: This is the sequel to A History of Heaven.
Chapter Rating: PG
Chapter word count: 1,819
Chapter Summary: It’s been centuries since Marmoniel and Cariel really had a talk, but when Joan of Arc needs some visions, Marmoniel’s the one bringing the assignment.
CHAPTER 5:
The Lieutenants
Marmoniel didn’t even bother with a greeting before dropping a folder on Cariel’s desk. He frowned, glancing up at her as he picked up the folder and opened it. “Hello to you too.”
“This isn’t a social call.”
Marmoniel had never been the type of angel to exude warmth, but she had always radiated a comforting security in everything she did. She made an excellent healer, inspiring confidence in her patients. Her interactions with Cariel, though, had become sterile and clinical over the centuries. Cariel understood-he was practically Fallen, a Seraph who dropped from the right hand of an Archangel to the very lowest of their caste-but that didn’t mean he liked it. Marmoniel was still his clutchmate, one of his oldest friends, though admittedly never his closest.
The file Marmoniel had given Cariel wasn’t any warmer. It was about a girl, a prophet named Jehanne. She was a young French peasant, and she was destined to receive visions of saints and angels. Cariel frowned as he skimmed the orders. “I can’t do this.”
“Dream-walking. Visions. That’s all your field.” Marmoniel canted her head to the side, studying Cariel. “This is nothing you haven’t done before.”
“Do you have any idea what life is like for this girl?” Cariel drew his arm across his desk, summoning up a virtual model of the Earth. He gave it a flick with his fingers, spinning it until France pointed up, then tapped it to zoom in. He found Jehanne in a barn, patting a cow’s side, and he froze the view, banishing the cow with a flick of his fingers and lifting Jehanne up to show Marmoniel. “Look at her. She’s a child. Born in poverty, uneducated, female… these visions will not raise her up as a prophet. They will damn her as insane and cause her death. She’s an innocent. No.” He closed the folder and set it aside.
Marmoniel pushed the folder back toward Cariel. “You have your orders, Cariel.”
“And who gave those orders? Was it Raphael? I bet it was. At best, this will spark a war. That’s right up his alley.”
“I don’t question my Archangel,” Marmoniel countered, folding her arms.
“Maybe you should.” Cariel tucked the image of Jehanne back alongside her cow and gave the world a spin, watching humanity flash past before him. “I questioned Gabriel all the time, and his decisions were stronger for it.”
“Like his decision to leave?” Marmoniel shook her head. “I still have an Archangel to serve. I won’t risk upsetting him. I am the last of the lieutenants, and I intend to keep my position.”
Cariel slouched back in his chair, folding his arms and staring defiantly up at Marmoniel. The other Seraph sighed, waving a chair over and sitting across from Cariel. “You aren’t happy.”
“What gave it away?”
Marmoniel bit her lip and glanced away before sneaking a furtive look back at Cariel. “Most of us aren’t happy,” she confessed under her breath.
This was something new. Cariel sat up and leaned forward across his desk, the virtual world still in between himself and his sister. “Why Marmoniel, are you admitting to a fault in Raphael’s command?”
“It’s not Raphael’s command that’s wrong,” Marmoniel snapped back, her feathers bristling as she was quick to defend her Archangel. “It’s just…” She shook her head, her grace frustrated as words didn’t come.
“I know,” Cariel said, relenting. “I feel it too.”
“It’s like… like it’s the end. The universe is spinning out of control and everything will come crashing down. Raphael is…”
“Raphael is what?”
But Marmoniel clamped her mouth shut and stared resolutely at the edge of Cariel’s desk. Cariel sighed to himself. The lieutenants were renowned for their absolute loyalty to their Archangel. Marmoniel wouldn’t say a word against Raphael in front of Cariel, who was still, as Gabriel’s second, The Enemy. Pushing Marmoniel would just make her clam up further and leave, so Cariel changed the topic instead. “It can’t be the end of the universe,” he said, giving his world a spin again. “God Himself said that the end days would come when Lucifer escaped from his cage, and that would only happen when both Michael and Lucifer’s lines spawn true vessels in the same time, in the same family, as brothers.”
“How close are we to that happening?” Marmoniel asked.
“Not close at all. See here?” Cariel waved his hand across the western side of Europe, and a handful of little blue dots all appeared. “Those are Lucifer’s vessels. None of them are particularly bright. And here,” he waved over the southwest part of Asia, illuminating a handful of green dots, one of which shone brighter than the others, “these are Michael’s vessels. He just had a true vessel born last year, so he won’t get another one for probably another hundred, two hundred years.” Cariel tapped the bright dot that indicated the true vessel. “There are thousands of miles between the two families, and the Cherubim are keeping them apart. The end days won’t come any time soon.”
“This is pretty incredible,” Marmoniel said, reaching out to give the virtual world an experimental spin herself. “Did you make it?”
“No,” Cariel admitted. “Several of my Dominions gifted me with it. They haven’t had as much to do ever since Earth was closed to us, so in their spare time, they crafted this. They made one for Barachiel too.” Barachiel had practically turned green with envy when he saw Cariel’s new toy when he first received it, and he had begged to be allowed one as well. Cariel’s Dominions had been pleased to have their work acknowledged, so they had made Barachiel one better suited for monitoring the weather and geology of the planet instead of the people, like Cariel’s did.
“It is ingenious.” Marmoniel pressed two fingers against the world to stop the spin and looked over at Cariel. “Can you show me Gabriel’s vessels?”
Cariel held Marmoniel’s gaze for a moment before brushing his hand over the northern part of Scotland. A cluster of five little red dots appeared, each one weak and flickering.
“Only five?” Marmoniel frowned, prodding one of the dots. “What’s wrong with them?”
“The bloodline is corrupted,” Cariel admitted. “Demons have settled around the family and pull them into Hell before their time. We haven’t welcomed one of Gabriel’s potential vessels into Heaven in over a century.”
“Demons?” Marmoniel looked up sharply at Cariel, but the other Seraph simply shrugged, his attention on the dots.
“Gabriel’s bloodline is also Lilith’s bloodline. The queen of Hell has been more influential on Earth these days than we have, and I suspect Raphael has been ordering the Cherubim to fold Gabriel’s bloodline back in on itself more frequently than is really healthy.”
“Which one is Gabriel in?”
Cariel laughed harshly, shaking his head. “You think I’d tell you if I knew? But the honest answer, Marmoniel, is none of them. Not one of them have been touched by an angel in any way, aside from cupid arrows. Gabriel hasn’t contacted any of them, much less possessed them.”
“But he is still on Earth?”
Cariel slumped back in his chair, staring dully at the red dots. “I don’t know where he is,” he admitted. “I can’t even answer that honestly. He hasn’t taken any of his bloodline vessels, and I don’t think he can take anyone else’s vessel for very long. I can’t feel his power anywhere, and I can’t see it on this rendering. For all I know, he could have died.”
“You would think the death of an Archangel would make a noticeable scene,” Marmoniel offered.
Cariel shrugged. “You’d think so, but maybe not. Maybe the Archangels are designed to die with a whisper. We’ve never seen one die before.”
Marmoniel sat quietly across from Cariel for a minute before giving a little sigh, closing her eyes and dipping her head. “I wish I could heal your heart, Cariel. I know many don’t see the good in Raphael, but I love him dearly. I have tried to imagine what it would be like had I been the one to lose my Archangel, and I just… I can’t even find it in myself to blame Azazel for what he did. The desperation you must feel…”
“I deal with it.” Cariel was grateful that Marmoniel at least tried to understand. “It helps, I think, that the last thing Gabriel asked of me was to not follow him. By staying here, by coping…”
“You are still obeying your choirmaster.”
“Exactly.”
Marmoniel smiled gently at Cariel before getting to her feet. “Please see that Jehanne gets her visions. I agree, it might not be the most prudent action for her circumstances, but we must trust in the ineffability of God’s plan.”
Cariel sighed and reached for the file to study it again. Marmoniel headed toward the door, but Cariel called her name just before she opened it. “Wait, wait, there is one thing… could you do me a favor?”
Marmoniel turned back to Cariel, her grace quizzical. “That would depend on the favor, I’m afraid.”
“There’s an Angel named Castiel. He’s in Anael’s garrison, serving under Zachariah.” Marmoniel outranked every remaining angel except Raphael and Michael. If anyone could save Castiel, it would be her. “Naomi… questions him frequently. Can you put a stop to that?”
“It is not my place to interfere in the duties of another,” Marmoniel began. “If Naomi has her reasons for questioning Castiel-”
“It’s not questioning!” Cariel slapped the file back down on his desk, shoving his chair back and jumping to his feet. “Marmoniel, she is constantly re-educating him. She calls it looking for solutions to heal the Host, but it isn’t. It’s torture.”
“Cariel…”
“You are a healer!” Cariel snapped. “Rit Zien. Hands of Mercy. Mercy, Marmoniel!” Marmoniel looked away from Cariel again, but Cariel knew that was a sign that she was actually hearing him. He softened his voice and his grace, trying to draw her into understanding. “Castiel is an Angel, Marmoniel, one of our youngest brothers. It should be our duty to protect him, as much as we can. There is no need for Naomi to torture him so. Please, just… this is going too far.”
“If Naomi is acting on orders from an Archangel,” Marmoniel said, turning back to Cariel, “then there is nothing I can do.”
“I understand,” Cariel agreed quickly. “But if she’s not?”
“Then I will speak with her. But I make no promises.”
“No. I understand,” Cariel repeated. “Thank you, Marmoniel.”
Marmoniel nodded toward the file on Cariel’s desk. “Attend to your own duties now, Cariel. We all must do our part.”
Next...
Notes: This is the sequel to A History of Heaven.
Chapter Rating: PG
Chapter word count: 1,819
Chapter Summary: It’s been centuries since Marmoniel and Cariel really had a talk, but when Joan of Arc needs some visions, Marmoniel’s the one bringing the assignment.
CHAPTER 5:
The Lieutenants
Marmoniel didn’t even bother with a greeting before dropping a folder on Cariel’s desk. He frowned, glancing up at her as he picked up the folder and opened it. “Hello to you too.”
“This isn’t a social call.”
Marmoniel had never been the type of angel to exude warmth, but she had always radiated a comforting security in everything she did. She made an excellent healer, inspiring confidence in her patients. Her interactions with Cariel, though, had become sterile and clinical over the centuries. Cariel understood-he was practically Fallen, a Seraph who dropped from the right hand of an Archangel to the very lowest of their caste-but that didn’t mean he liked it. Marmoniel was still his clutchmate, one of his oldest friends, though admittedly never his closest.
The file Marmoniel had given Cariel wasn’t any warmer. It was about a girl, a prophet named Jehanne. She was a young French peasant, and she was destined to receive visions of saints and angels. Cariel frowned as he skimmed the orders. “I can’t do this.”
“Dream-walking. Visions. That’s all your field.” Marmoniel canted her head to the side, studying Cariel. “This is nothing you haven’t done before.”
“Do you have any idea what life is like for this girl?” Cariel drew his arm across his desk, summoning up a virtual model of the Earth. He gave it a flick with his fingers, spinning it until France pointed up, then tapped it to zoom in. He found Jehanne in a barn, patting a cow’s side, and he froze the view, banishing the cow with a flick of his fingers and lifting Jehanne up to show Marmoniel. “Look at her. She’s a child. Born in poverty, uneducated, female… these visions will not raise her up as a prophet. They will damn her as insane and cause her death. She’s an innocent. No.” He closed the folder and set it aside.
Marmoniel pushed the folder back toward Cariel. “You have your orders, Cariel.”
“And who gave those orders? Was it Raphael? I bet it was. At best, this will spark a war. That’s right up his alley.”
“I don’t question my Archangel,” Marmoniel countered, folding her arms.
“Maybe you should.” Cariel tucked the image of Jehanne back alongside her cow and gave the world a spin, watching humanity flash past before him. “I questioned Gabriel all the time, and his decisions were stronger for it.”
“Like his decision to leave?” Marmoniel shook her head. “I still have an Archangel to serve. I won’t risk upsetting him. I am the last of the lieutenants, and I intend to keep my position.”
Cariel slouched back in his chair, folding his arms and staring defiantly up at Marmoniel. The other Seraph sighed, waving a chair over and sitting across from Cariel. “You aren’t happy.”
“What gave it away?”
Marmoniel bit her lip and glanced away before sneaking a furtive look back at Cariel. “Most of us aren’t happy,” she confessed under her breath.
This was something new. Cariel sat up and leaned forward across his desk, the virtual world still in between himself and his sister. “Why Marmoniel, are you admitting to a fault in Raphael’s command?”
“It’s not Raphael’s command that’s wrong,” Marmoniel snapped back, her feathers bristling as she was quick to defend her Archangel. “It’s just…” She shook her head, her grace frustrated as words didn’t come.
“I know,” Cariel said, relenting. “I feel it too.”
“It’s like… like it’s the end. The universe is spinning out of control and everything will come crashing down. Raphael is…”
“Raphael is what?”
But Marmoniel clamped her mouth shut and stared resolutely at the edge of Cariel’s desk. Cariel sighed to himself. The lieutenants were renowned for their absolute loyalty to their Archangel. Marmoniel wouldn’t say a word against Raphael in front of Cariel, who was still, as Gabriel’s second, The Enemy. Pushing Marmoniel would just make her clam up further and leave, so Cariel changed the topic instead. “It can’t be the end of the universe,” he said, giving his world a spin again. “God Himself said that the end days would come when Lucifer escaped from his cage, and that would only happen when both Michael and Lucifer’s lines spawn true vessels in the same time, in the same family, as brothers.”
“How close are we to that happening?” Marmoniel asked.
“Not close at all. See here?” Cariel waved his hand across the western side of Europe, and a handful of little blue dots all appeared. “Those are Lucifer’s vessels. None of them are particularly bright. And here,” he waved over the southwest part of Asia, illuminating a handful of green dots, one of which shone brighter than the others, “these are Michael’s vessels. He just had a true vessel born last year, so he won’t get another one for probably another hundred, two hundred years.” Cariel tapped the bright dot that indicated the true vessel. “There are thousands of miles between the two families, and the Cherubim are keeping them apart. The end days won’t come any time soon.”
“This is pretty incredible,” Marmoniel said, reaching out to give the virtual world an experimental spin herself. “Did you make it?”
“No,” Cariel admitted. “Several of my Dominions gifted me with it. They haven’t had as much to do ever since Earth was closed to us, so in their spare time, they crafted this. They made one for Barachiel too.” Barachiel had practically turned green with envy when he saw Cariel’s new toy when he first received it, and he had begged to be allowed one as well. Cariel’s Dominions had been pleased to have their work acknowledged, so they had made Barachiel one better suited for monitoring the weather and geology of the planet instead of the people, like Cariel’s did.
“It is ingenious.” Marmoniel pressed two fingers against the world to stop the spin and looked over at Cariel. “Can you show me Gabriel’s vessels?”
Cariel held Marmoniel’s gaze for a moment before brushing his hand over the northern part of Scotland. A cluster of five little red dots appeared, each one weak and flickering.
“Only five?” Marmoniel frowned, prodding one of the dots. “What’s wrong with them?”
“The bloodline is corrupted,” Cariel admitted. “Demons have settled around the family and pull them into Hell before their time. We haven’t welcomed one of Gabriel’s potential vessels into Heaven in over a century.”
“Demons?” Marmoniel looked up sharply at Cariel, but the other Seraph simply shrugged, his attention on the dots.
“Gabriel’s bloodline is also Lilith’s bloodline. The queen of Hell has been more influential on Earth these days than we have, and I suspect Raphael has been ordering the Cherubim to fold Gabriel’s bloodline back in on itself more frequently than is really healthy.”
“Which one is Gabriel in?”
Cariel laughed harshly, shaking his head. “You think I’d tell you if I knew? But the honest answer, Marmoniel, is none of them. Not one of them have been touched by an angel in any way, aside from cupid arrows. Gabriel hasn’t contacted any of them, much less possessed them.”
“But he is still on Earth?”
Cariel slumped back in his chair, staring dully at the red dots. “I don’t know where he is,” he admitted. “I can’t even answer that honestly. He hasn’t taken any of his bloodline vessels, and I don’t think he can take anyone else’s vessel for very long. I can’t feel his power anywhere, and I can’t see it on this rendering. For all I know, he could have died.”
“You would think the death of an Archangel would make a noticeable scene,” Marmoniel offered.
Cariel shrugged. “You’d think so, but maybe not. Maybe the Archangels are designed to die with a whisper. We’ve never seen one die before.”
Marmoniel sat quietly across from Cariel for a minute before giving a little sigh, closing her eyes and dipping her head. “I wish I could heal your heart, Cariel. I know many don’t see the good in Raphael, but I love him dearly. I have tried to imagine what it would be like had I been the one to lose my Archangel, and I just… I can’t even find it in myself to blame Azazel for what he did. The desperation you must feel…”
“I deal with it.” Cariel was grateful that Marmoniel at least tried to understand. “It helps, I think, that the last thing Gabriel asked of me was to not follow him. By staying here, by coping…”
“You are still obeying your choirmaster.”
“Exactly.”
Marmoniel smiled gently at Cariel before getting to her feet. “Please see that Jehanne gets her visions. I agree, it might not be the most prudent action for her circumstances, but we must trust in the ineffability of God’s plan.”
Cariel sighed and reached for the file to study it again. Marmoniel headed toward the door, but Cariel called her name just before she opened it. “Wait, wait, there is one thing… could you do me a favor?”
Marmoniel turned back to Cariel, her grace quizzical. “That would depend on the favor, I’m afraid.”
“There’s an Angel named Castiel. He’s in Anael’s garrison, serving under Zachariah.” Marmoniel outranked every remaining angel except Raphael and Michael. If anyone could save Castiel, it would be her. “Naomi… questions him frequently. Can you put a stop to that?”
“It is not my place to interfere in the duties of another,” Marmoniel began. “If Naomi has her reasons for questioning Castiel-”
“It’s not questioning!” Cariel slapped the file back down on his desk, shoving his chair back and jumping to his feet. “Marmoniel, she is constantly re-educating him. She calls it looking for solutions to heal the Host, but it isn’t. It’s torture.”
“Cariel…”
“You are a healer!” Cariel snapped. “Rit Zien. Hands of Mercy. Mercy, Marmoniel!” Marmoniel looked away from Cariel again, but Cariel knew that was a sign that she was actually hearing him. He softened his voice and his grace, trying to draw her into understanding. “Castiel is an Angel, Marmoniel, one of our youngest brothers. It should be our duty to protect him, as much as we can. There is no need for Naomi to torture him so. Please, just… this is going too far.”
“If Naomi is acting on orders from an Archangel,” Marmoniel said, turning back to Cariel, “then there is nothing I can do.”
“I understand,” Cariel agreed quickly. “But if she’s not?”
“Then I will speak with her. But I make no promises.”
“No. I understand,” Cariel repeated. “Thank you, Marmoniel.”
Marmoniel nodded toward the file on Cariel’s desk. “Attend to your own duties now, Cariel. We all must do our part.”
Next...