Chapter 37 – Ithuriel

S yrin sits on a chair next to her son’s empty bed, her head in her hands. I’ve never seen an angel in that pose before, but then, I’ve never seen an angel feeling the emotions of a mother.

I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes. I cannot remember ever feeling this drained. Jessica retired to the room we share with Sariel, but I refuse to move from this bedside.

“Stop looking like someone died. You’re bumming me out.”

Mike shuffles out of his ensuite bathroom, leaning heavily against his friend, Lana. His body has been through a lot. And Lana doesn’t let the mortal out of her sight.

When we met up with the other team in the middle of the warehouse, Kevin was attempting to resuscitate a deathly pale Mike, and Lana was holding his hand, doing her best to help keep the mortal’s blood circulating. I wasn’t in the best of shapes either, but I rushed in to assist. Together we brought the mortal back to life and his waiting mother.

Syrin smiles now, helping the redhead tuck Mike back into bed. “We’re just tired, darling,” she says before kissing the top of his nose. Mike’s face scrunches up and he opens his mouth to say something, but the rest of our faces turn toward the entrance and I can hear it audibly close with a click of his teeth.

“What is it?” he asks in a whisper.

“An archangel,” Lana says just as quietly. I want to tell her there is no need to whisper – Saraqael would have heard her from across the neighborhood.

The door opens soundlessly to a golden male in ornate armor. Saraqael looks as he did the last time I saw him, months ago, when I set out on this adventure, not knowing it would change me forever.

“You found us,” Syrin says while I’m still searching for words.

The ancient angel lifts a gilded eyebrow. “We have always known where you are, Syriniana.”

The archivist presses a hand against her chest. “Then why has no one come to punish me for leaving?”

“You lost Heaven’s light for a life with a demon from Hell. Is that not punishment enough?” the archangel asks, taking a few steps closer and eyeing Mike with a curious glint in his sunshine-colored eyes. “Is this your issue?”

The young mortal snaps out of the daze the archangel’s appearance put him in and straightens up in bed. “Don’t condescend to my mom, archangel zaddy. We’re doing just fine without Heaven.”

The corner of Saraqael’s lip twitches. “Clearly,” he says, tone flat. “And who will answer for the death of the dozens of Cambions the Council was led to believe needed to be saved?”

“That would be me,” Nephithar says from the doorway. “They attacked us with their dishonorable weapons and very nearly killed my son.” The demon’s growled words raise every hair on my body with their pain and anger.

“If the Council condones that they do so without punishment, then we will not condone the Council’s punishment for defending ourselves.” I speak up for the first time, drawing my mentor’s fathomless gaze.

Saraqael holds my eyes for long moments and I find the strength to not back down, though I feel nearly disrespectful in doing so. I have always deferred to him as my superior, my elder, my better.

“We should talk privately,” he finally says.

“No, I don’t think you should.”

When Sariel’s voice rings out from behind Nephithar, Saraqael closes his shining eyes. “You were not meant to be on this mission, Sariel,” he says. Turning around, he pins my love with a hard stare. “You left to spare him a thousand years ago but had no such consideration now?”

I blink and get to my feet. “You knew? You knew he fell because he had feelings for me?”

The archangel looks over his shoulder. “Naturally. I know everything you feel.”

“And you let him suffer through his fall alone.” That was Jessica, now standing next to Sariel, allowing him to pull her into his side.

“He was no longer my responsibility once he fell. I had to take care of Ithuriel. And thanks to you, I have failed in that. Failed Ithuriel.”

I can feel shame heating the tips of my ears. I expected to have an unpleasant confrontation with Saraqael, but no matter how much I practiced it in my head in the quiet times when Jessica was sleeping, nothing could have prepared me for the look of desolation and disappointment in his eyes.

“Ithuriel’s just fine with us, he doesn’t need you,” Jessica says, her hands clenched into fists.

The ancient archangel shakes his head, his lips twisted into a bitter grimace. “Child,” he chastises. “You heal your own wounds, fill your lacks and insecurities with Ithuriel’s innate goodness, letting his light shine through the many holes in your soul, then think you provide the same for him? What do you have to offer him but an endless lifetime of depravity and corruption?”

Saraqael’s words are like a sword to the gut and the way Jessica’s face blanches twists it in the wound. Sariel’s anger is palpable and he likely only holds himself back because I speak first.

“Enough,” I hiss, stepping to the archangel’s side, cutting off his view. “You claim to know what we are feeling, but you’re so blind to my feelings for Jessica and Sariel.”

“I do not doubt your feelings, Ithuriel,” the male says quietly. “I doubt that they are worthy of them.”

“Look, you scum sucker,” Sariel says, squaring up against the elder angel. Lana gasps and covers her mouth, rushing closer to intercept the charging Fallen. “Get off your fucking high horse, your head’s clearly spinning.”

Saraqael pinches the bridge of his nose and waves the other hand in Lana’s direction. “What have you done with yourself, mortal?”

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with her.” Mike comes to his friend’s defense, shuffling up to where we stand.

“Get away from him,” Nephithar growls.

“Saraqael won’t hurt him,” Syrin responds firmly.

“Of course I will not harm the child.” Saraqael sounds aghast that they would even consider it.

“I’m not a child,” Mike says, getting in the archangel’s face – or rather chest. Their height difference is significant. “Come down here, daddy, and I’ll prove how much of a man I am.”

My eyes widen at the young human’s flirtation and Sariel bursts out laughing. “I’d pay any amount of pay-per-view to see that,” he chuckles.

Nephithar looks like he’s tempted to cross himself despite being the son of the devil. But Jessica… those are tears in her eyes.

“Saraqael.”

As my mentor and I lock eyes again, I look past the disappointment in them to the fondness he holds for me.

“What you said to Jessica was hurtful and unnecessary. She completes me as much or more as I do her. And she isn’t the only one.” I gesture at Sariel. “You knew he loved me a thousand years ago. Let me love him now.”

The air is knocked out of my lungs as Sariel grabs me by the front of my shirt and slams his mouth against mine. Before I gather my faculties, Jessica pushes the Fallen away and pulls me down to fuse our mouths in a passionate kiss. I hear Mike loose a wolf whistle. Just as my heart catches up with my body, Jessica lets me go to lick at Sariel’s mouth instead.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Lana whispers, turning my face red. I cannot believe we just did that in front of my mentor, an archangel.

The three of us are locked in an embrace, forgetting all about the world around us. I see my love reflected in Sariel and Jessica’s eyes, their gratitude for my acceptance of them even in the face of Heaven.

“Psst. Hey, archangel,” Mike whispers to Saraqael and I turn around to see what he’s up to. The golden male squints at the boy. “Wanna see my piercing?” the Nephalem asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Saraqael eyes him up and down. “I do not see any such adornments.”

Mike grins like a fox that found itself alone with a chicken. “Exactly.”

Nephithar’s hand flies out to hit the boy upside the head.

∞∞∞

“The Council will not take any testimonials you bring forth with surety after you massacred the very creatures you lobbied to protect.”

Saraqael looks extremely uncomfortable sitting with our motley crew at Syriniana and Nephithar’s dining table. Kevin and Naamah joined us for the conversation, having obviously waited to see the lay of the land once an archangel appeared in the house.

“That wasn’t our fault,” Kevin says now, clenching the succubus’ hand in his lap. In turn, Naamah wraps her tail around his neck like a pet snake.

“They didn’t exactly let us reason with them,” Lana continues. “They were more of the ‘shoot first, ask questions never because thinking hurts’ types,” she says, using her fingers to draw quotation marks in the air.

“Not to mention Andras being there, attacking from a distance like the coward he is,” Aim speaks next, having just returned from reporting to his master, Ashtaroth, to discover the house now holds an archangel.

“I am merely stating that you are not very credible reporters against a lone demon lord wanting to exterminate mortals with Celestial blood,” Saraqael says, then tilts his head to the side. “You did that yourselves.”

“It’s certainly not just one lone demon lord,” Nephithar jumps in. “Andras is sly and has long been known for having a hatred for humankind, but he is not a planner.”

“I brought the few Cambions you left bound, and more importantly alive, to Purgatory so they can testify anyway,” Aim says.

Lana covers her head with her hand. “Meaning they’re now able to use the ether. Just what we needed.”

“They’re not gonna know how if no one teaches them,” Kevin shrugs.

“Yeah?” Lana straightens and slaps her palms onto the tabletop. “You know who’s going to have to teach them? Moi . Think Daniel and Maalik are going to throw away free soldiers just because they’re brainwashed? We weren’t exactly willing those first few weeks either.”

Kevin winces. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and a golem will sit on them.”

“Maybe they’ll learn the error of their ways and switch teams?” Jessica asks hopefully.

“Sweet, na?ve baby,” Naamah sighs.

“I don’t see why you need to have this conversation in my home,” Nephithar says. Syrin rolls her eyes at him. “Take it to your Purgatory,” the demon continues despite his wife’s disapproval.

Bau, the dog, walks up to Saraqael on silent paws and pushes her head into his lap, gazing up at him with lovestruck eyes. Mike’s eyes bounce between the dog and the archangel who extends a hand to caress the top of the retriever’s fuzzy head.

“I’m going with them,” the young mortal speaks, drawing Saraqael’s eyes. “I want to help find out who’s involved, who wants us dead.”

“Over my dead body,” his father growls, hitting the table with a fist.

Syrin places a hand on her husband’s. “He’s an adult, my love. If he wants to fight for this cause, we should be proud of him, not hinder it.”

“It’s dangerous,” the old demon says through clenched teeth. I can appreciate his reluctance. I’m about to speak up to say I would protect him when someone beats me to it.

“I will be with him,” Saraqael says.

My mouth drops open. “ You will join us in the Underworld?”

My mentor’s ageless eyes turn to me. “I may not agree with your methods of handling this situation, but I too wish to see it disarmed.”

Sariel whistles and leans back on his chair. “Well, I can’t wait to see what comes next.”

Bau noses at Saraqael’s palm, demanding his attention. Once the archangel’s hand returns to her scruff, her tail thumps against my leg as she wags it in contentment.

It seems our time in Marseille is coming to an end.

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