Chapter 34 #3
Imriel moved with exaggerated care away from the bed, and I wondered how much power Precious had inadvertently pulled from him. Or whether it was just shock that one of the Celestial dogs was choosing to leave with us. They were sort of a big deal up here.
“Go now,” he rasped, holding a hand to his throat, his eyes still on the dog and Precious. “And may the Singer bring you back safely to your home.”
The door opened, and Truth and his octet were the first to go. They each held instruments, which must have been their heavenly gifts. Then the others followed: Protectors, Guides, and Novices, all of them filing out naked, holding their gifts and singing.
It was excruciatingly beautiful. All of Sanctuary, every soul that had been unkind to Feather, was willingly leaving the Celestial Realm on the mere chance that they might be able to repay her, and Gavriel, and bring them across the void.
“I didn’t think it was possible,” I said, feeling someone at my side, though my eyes were closed, listening. “I didn’t think there was anything they could do to redeem themselves in my heart. To earn back my respect. But they’ve done it.”
Haneul’s soft hand in mine had me opening my eyes. “A part of me feels that I should go with you. But everything I’ve been taught insists this realm is where I must stay.” Her dark eyes glimmered. “So why do I feel so drawn to your cause?”
“You can always join us later,” I rasped into her ear when she hugged me, whispering her goodbye. “Mikhail would say the same. You’ll always be welcome wherever we are.”
She opened her mouth to answer, but darted a sideways glance at Imriel, whose brows were drawn together as he stepped close. “No, Haneul. We cannot lose even more valiant souls. As it is, our realm will forever grieve the loss of so many. I fear for the balance.”
Hope moved beside us, and hummed. “Or perhaps, Choir Leader, this is what was required to begin to restore the balance. Maybe leaving is the answer to more than one problem.”
“What did you say?” Imriel asked, his voice breaking. “Of course that’s not Her plan. This realm has always been the true destination of all pure souls.”
Hope didn’t answer. She just pushed Mikhail’s cloud bed to the gate, which was now miraculously wide enough for it to fit.
“They’ll need to go through one at a time,” Imriel instructed as she began shoving the bed through sideways.
I called Precious, but she wouldn’t climb down, and Hope said, “Whatever. Let’s try it this way.”
Imriel shook his head. “It won’t work.” But a few seconds later, the bed had gone through carrying three souls, and Hope had followed.
“I don’t understand,” he gasped. I craned my neck to peer up into his glowing face.
He had the most peculiar expression, like he’d been struck in the head and could see the little cartoon birds flying around.
“With Hope, all things are possible,” I said, shucking off my robe and holding only my kazoo in one fist. “And with Feather, all things are wonderfully ridiculous. Maybe try to loosen up a little before we meet again? I have a feeling your rules have been holding you back, Imri.” He wrinkled his nose at the nickname, as I winked at him, blew a kiss to Haneul, and slid through the door.
The last time I’d gone through the Celestial gate, I’d felt a presence, a holiness.
This time there was nothing like that, only a sense of expectation.
But that might have been my own emotions.
I got in the back of the line of singing High Angeli, eventually joining Hope at the bedside.
Precious had perked up significantly—possibly because she’d goosed Imriel for power on her way out—and it was great to see her curious and looking around, rather than sleeping.
We used a little bit of power to tether the bed in the center of the space, and Hope grabbed my hand.
“I’m going out with the others to shine and sing.
You stay here with her mates and Precious, and just…
hope as hard as you can.” She gave me a kiss that set off fireworks in my heart and in lower regions.
“Come back soon,” I told her, “and bring my best birch home.”
“I guess this is home now.” She looked around.
The fire door had vanished, and the room which had previously been bank lobby-sized was expanding as we stood there.
I had a feeling Imriel was making this happen, as I saw walls going up around the bed…
and a child-sized cloud bed forming next to it, decorated with music notes and glowing feathers.
“I guess it is,” I agreed. After one more spine-tingling kiss, Hope left, making a running start and leaping off the clouds.
Feather’s guys seemed to be fine, better than they had been, in fact.
I wondered if that was because the door to the Celestial Realm was no longer cutting off their connection to Feather.
They still looked mostly dead, though Precious had climbed down from the bed and was peeking over the edge of the leap into the void.
Shadow had his teeth buried in a t-shirt of Mikhail’s we’d repurposed as a small dress for her, though, and I knew the puppy could keep her safe.
He outweighed her by a significant amount already, and was always watching, with an intelligence in his shining silver eyes that seemed more than Angelic.
I settled on the edge of the low cloud wall and swung my feet out over the void next to her, prepared to wait.
Only inches from my feet, I noticed a small silver line—one of the soulfire tethers Imriel had given us, stretching like a strand of cobweb across the distance.
The end had been turned so it resembled a fishing hook.
I peered up and down the cloud edge; there were thousands of the same hooks keeping the distant Guides connected to the Limen.
I could see the closest lights shimmering in the void, and even hear their songs.
It was an eerie, haunting music, being sent out into the vastness of space like the call of a lighthouse through a fog, but melodic and filled with purpose.
I opened my mouth and sang along, weaving the disparate notes that reached me into a new melody.
When my throat grew tired, I lifted my kazoo, and played on it as well.
Precious hummed along for a while. When she began to sing, it was in her demonic-angelic baby language.
The sounds made the cloud beneath her legs go slightly gray, and I was concerned.
Was she endangering the tethers, or the Limen?
But then Shadow leaned into her, adding his own plaintive howl, and I knew it didn’t matter.
Anyway, who was I to decide which songs would be the ones to bring my friend home? With that thought, I lifted my kazoo again, and began playing the one song I thought might reach her, when nothing else would.
And slowly, one by one as the song reached them, all the High Angeli who were waiting for our miracle joined in.