Chapter 28
Despite declaring he’d return to Heaven soon, Uriel chose to remain on Earth.
He managed to tug the reins of his winged horse slightly, trying to ease it from trot to a slow walk.
A few angels had noticed what he was doing, but they didn’t dare alert Michael, Raphael, or Gabriel up ahead.
All he could think of was how silent the devil had been in the end as the chief prince suddenly lifted him onto the horse, facing the rear.
Then, Michael had climbed on top, taking the reins.
Their backs had been pressed together — hulking armor and torn cassock separated only by the golden chains wrapped around Satan.
Briefly, Uriel had locked eyes with him — the devil.
‘You should be grateful that I haven’t taken this chance to laugh at you. ’
It was almost impossible to remember, but there was a time, long ago, when the two of them had been in Michael’s home in Heaven — Satan no more than a bratty angel of beauty and Uriel trying to stop him from destroying paradise.
‘I hope it was worth it, Lucifer.’ Though Uriel supposed that they’d both gotten what they’d wanted in the end — the ruin of Heaven and the ruin of Lucifer.
‘But neither of us are happy, are we?’ Uriel refused something as asinine as solidarity, however.
He let himself fall behind, unseen, as the others ascended to Heaven.
Though Uriel knew he’d be able to defend himself from accusations of defection — after all, some armored angels on their horses had been told to remain in Babylon’s heart to keep watch and, perhaps, peace — his heart stuttered anxiously.
Then he turned to face the world of man — the Earth he so detested.
Once, Metatron had suggested stronger relations between the divine and humanity, but it had been the Lord who rejected such a thing.
He must’ve feared another situation like the Watchers; that had been Uriel’s first assumption.
But maybe God simply enjoyed the distance, maybe He loved the atheists.
The Lord adored the first nonbeliever of them all, after all: Satan.
But all those humans Metatron spoke so highly of were running — in a few different directions but many toward Babylon and every soldier stationed there.
Far above, the stars were screaming — and, with them, came the booms of winged metal slicing through the clouds.
Drones, three or four of them — silver birds.
Smoke climbed in a great sprawl from further down south, though it couldn’t have been more than a seven or eight buildings that were hit.
The people ran on foot, many unable to climb into the vehicles that’d been without gasoline for so long now.
As Uriel walked his horse opposite the hurrying humans, several looked up at the angel wildly, desperately, begging, and the prince recalled his exchange with Raphael and Gabriel in Michael’s absence.
On their walk toward any urban center, ignoring the cars driving past them on the road, Raphael had suddenly whispered.
‘I have the blood of the lamb here. We could begin marking those who will be saved, though I fear it’s not the proper time. The prophesied time.’
‘How would we know who to mark?’ Uriel had replied, though disinterested in the answer.
‘Perhaps,’ Gabriel had whispered, ‘we should mark everyone that we can.’ Ultimately, however, they’d decided to wait. Mercy should come at the right time.
Children, particularly, kept eyeing Uriel.
The enshrouding of the Holy Spirit, that which had made them unseen to human eyes, had evidently fallen away as they’d confronted Satan, but despite all the stares, humans weren’t stampeding to him.
He’d always thought they might, might beg for miracles that the prince of wisdom was incapable of offering.
But in the chaos, the humans must’ve realized that if Uriel was going to help, he would have already.
And yet — ‘my heart is heavy.’ With all the disdain he held for these creatures and the nightmares he had of them overrunning his Heaven — Uriel still found himself grimacing.
‘Is this empathy?’ Uriel knew, after all, what a sky consumed by fire was like; he could remember running from it too.
‘Are you,’ Raphael had prodded, ‘really going to help with this apocalypse, Uriel?’ A change of subject after they had reached the largest city in Babylon.
Uriel had avoided answering; ‘Dina came here with the blessing of the stars.’ To prevent the revelation, he thought. ‘I’m here for Dina. To help him in what he does. And if Michael interferes, I’ll kill him.’
‘Angels cannot die.’
‘After Michael burned,’ Uriel had replied lowly, ‘I asked our Father why He burned him, and God admitted to me that we can die. It is through fire. If we are burned to nothing, even less than ash, then all there is left for our soul to do is die. We can heal one another, but we cannot create our bodies anew.’ He paused, noted Gabriel up ahead, pretending not to listen.
‘The blood of the Lamb — we need to mark all the good with the blood of the Lamb, is that right? Michael said he saw the devil where the Lamb should have been.’
The bombing didn’t seem to be getting any closer.
In fact, it stopped. He wasn’t hearing the booms of explosions, just the hisses of the silver birds.
‘Dina.’ He would find him. He needed to hide before the archangels — or rather, Michael — realized he’d rebelled, but he would find Dina.
‘Let me help you. Where are you?’ He glanced up at the stars again, and he wondered if his old love had awoken.
‘Let me help, and I can introduce you to him. To Kimah.’ Kimah would like Dina, wouldn’t he?
The next few days of the apocalypse were slower; the screams of the stars grew softer, more like distant hums.
On the third noon, the Watchers, the anti-Christ, and others finally reached the town’s outskirts, and as they did, they came across a roadside shrine made rubble — Mary of Guadalupe decapitated among it.
Not far, there were the remains of a factory, scattered trucks on their side, collapsed into themselves, one still aflame.
On the other side of the road, there was a concrete, one-story home with its left side made fragments of itself, whereas the other side still had an open door and painted words on the wall that read a woman’s name — Maria Cantú — and that this was her restaurant.
And she sold guisados, gorditas, tacos, and much more.
“Oh my God,” Tadeo breathed as he saw, yanking on the reins until his mare slowed into a total halt.
Behind, Dante jostled and bumped up against Tadeo, then took hold of his shoulder to steady. “What the fuck happened?” Tadeo tensed at the touch, clenched his jaw, but he resisted shoving him away. “Did a bomb drop?”
Tadeo opened his mouth, then simply rolled his shoulder, relieved that the soldier removed his grip almost immediately. “We need to— We should check if there’s any survivors.”
He looked up to the army of angels following them like vultures to the dying.
Though they had stayed off the main roads up until now — Tadeo had no doubt that the 199 Watchers had surely already been seen by someone or something, and he’d been anticipating great trouble but nothing at all like this.
The angels were quiet, had been for most of the time spent traveling, though they often landed to touch the Earth they no longer recognized, and they had taken Tadeo and Dante’s hours of sleep as an opportunity to run around, to chase each other like animals, to bleed from their wounds.
‘They don’t act like Dina,’ Tadeo had long noticed, but Dina seemed calm beside Azazel, the one Tadeo had learned was the beautiful leader of the imprisoned angels.
Azazel still kept that pale-eyed, one-winged angel on a chain leash; and Tadeo never missed how this angel — Dina called him Samyaza — followed Dante and him with a twitching gaze.
Unsure what else to do, Tadeo called, “Excuse me!” He ignored Dante’s chuckle.
“I want to see if anyone’s trapped beneath the buildings!
” Before he could try to look for Dina, and to beg him for a translation, the beautiful angel swept up and away from the cloud of Watchers, swerving to circle above Tadeo — again, like a vulture.
He opened his mouth, and Tadeo heard Dina speak in the ancient angel language to the curious faces of the newly-freed ones.
Tadeo swallowed, and he took this second to tilt his head and whisper to the soldier, “You can take the horse, if you want. Ride into town. I’ll stay here and look through everything. ”
Dante hesitated, then said, “I can’t ride.”
“It’s easy.”
“I’ll stay here.” Dante leaned closer, lowered his voice to a murmur. “I also want to talk to you without… him being here too.”
Tadeo hesitated, then bit on the inside of his lips.
‘Dina.’ He could sense Dante’s suspicion, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous too.
But Dina was an angel; Dante on the road had described demons, and they were horned and monstrous, nothing like the angel who’d been guiding him until now.
‘And I already met the devil,’ Tadeo thought, ‘so Dina can’t be him.
’ “Alright, but it’ll be a while before we get back to town. ”
Whistling lowly, Dante answered: “Buy me something to eat tonight and I’ll forgive you.”
Fiddling with the leather rein in his fingers, Tadeo shifted a little, not sure what to say, how to really talk to the man casually; he never knew how to talk to men his own age at all. “Fine,” he tried. “Do you like beer?”
Dante snickered. “About as much as I like pussy.”
“So no?” Tadeo blurted, trying to joke and regretting it instantly, ashamed for responding to something so crude, but the soldier behind him laughed, then called him a motherfucker.