24 Raphael
Raphael
I stalked into the council room looking for God and found Port instead.
It was becoming a pattern I was rapidly losing patience with.
Every time I asked for an audience with the man we supposedly answered to, someone appeared in his place with a message, an excuse, or another promise that my concerns would be delivered.
Port was usually the one stuck doing it.
As a spirit watcher, she moved between the throne, the council, and the different reaches of Heaven more easily than most of us could, her body never quite deciding whether it wanted to remain solid while she did it.
She turned as I approached, the edges of her form shimmering faintly beneath the council-room lights. “Raphael.”
“Is he here?”
Port’s expression changed before I even finished asking, which told me exactly what the answer would be. “He isn’t available. If you have a message, I can make sure he receives it.”
“I don’t want to send a message.” I stopped in front of her and folded my arms across my chest. “I want to speak to him.”
“You know that isn’t always possible.”
“It used to be.”
Her mouth tightened slightly. “A lot of things used to be different.”
That was the closest anyone had come to admitting it.
I watched her more carefully, but whatever had slipped through disappeared behind the polite expression she wore whenever she represented the throne.
“Then tell him I have questions about Ariuk’s banishment.
I want to know why she’s being treated like some permanent stain on Heaven when her actual sentence was supposed to be served on Earth. ”
Port hesitated just long enough to bother me. “I’ll pass that along.”
“And Uriel.”
Her attention sharpened. I had been thinking about him more often since Ari left.
The story had always been simple when no one questioned it: Uriel became power hungry, challenged God, tried to take the throne, and was condemned for it.
Except I remembered Uriel before that story swallowed everything else about him.
I remembered the fear in him near the end, the way he had started asking questions no one wanted to answer, and how quickly everyone had decided those questions were evidence of ambition after he disappeared.
“I want the records surrounding his condemnation,” I said, watching Port’s face instead of the faint shimmer traveling along the edges of her body. “Not the council summary. The actual records.”
Her expression tightened almost imperceptibly. She had spent centuries perfecting that neutral look, but I’d known her long enough to notice when it took effort. “That isn’t something I can authorize.”
“Then tell me who can.” I shifted closer to the desk separating us, already tired of being handed another wall disguised as procedure. Every question about Uriel seemed to lead to someone explaining why I wasn’t allowed to ask the next one, which only made me want the records more.
Port opened her mouth, but another voice reached us first. “Why are you digging through Uriel’s condemnation?”
I turned toward the doorway as Jophiel entered the council room.
His wings remained folded neatly behind him and his expression was calm, but there was an edge to the way his gaze moved from Port to me.
I had spent enough years sitting across council tables from him to recognize irritation even when he wrapped it in grace.
“I’m asking questions,” I said, straightening as he approached. Jophiel dismissed that with a small shake of his head, reminding me that Uriel’s case had been settled months ago. “Apparently not well enough,” I answered. “If it were, I wouldn’t keep finding pieces that don’t fit.”
His steps slowed. “Uriel tried to take God’s throne, Raphael. There is nothing complicated about that.”
“Then there shouldn’t be any reason I can’t see the records.
” I looked toward Port again, and she shifted backward before catching herself.
It was barely half a step, but Jophiel noticed it too.
His eyes flicked toward her, something silent passing through his expression before his attention returned to me.
“If everything happened exactly the way we were told, the records should prove it.”
“You need to stop doing this.” Jophiel’s voice had lost some of its practiced calm now, his shoulders going rigid beneath the folds of his robes.
The warning only sharpened my irritation.
“Doing what? Asking why one archangel was erased and his creation was thrown out of Heaven shortly afterward?” I gestured toward the chamber around us, where decisions were supposed to be debated instead of buried.
“Nobody cared when I accepted the story we were given. Suddenly I ask to see what actually happened and everyone starts acting like I’m the problem. ”
“Ariuk was not condemned because she was Uriel’s creation.” Jophiel stepped closer, his wings shifting behind him as though the subject itself irritated them. “She was condemned for her own behavior.”
I let out a short laugh before I could stop it.
“Her behavior? Sneaking away? Questioning us? Wanting things we didn’t approve of?
” The list sounded even more ridiculous spoken aloud, especially after watching Ari be punished for the same impulses other angels simply learned to hide better.
“You make it sound like she tried to burn Heaven down.”
“You’ve always been too soft with her.”
“And you’ve always been very comfortable calling punishment an answer.
” My gaze stayed fixed on his as the room seemed to tighten around us.
Port remained close enough to intervene, but she had gone unnaturally quiet, which bothered me almost as much as Jophiel’s sudden interest in ending the conversation.
“If Ari deserved what happened to her, then explain it. If Uriel was exactly what you claim he was, show me. Stop telling me not to look.”
Jophiel’s wings shifted behind him, feathers spreading just enough to make the warning obvious. “Take a better look at Uriel’s creation before you decide everyone else is wrong, Raphael. Ariuk should never have existed the way she does.”
Port went completely still beside him as I narrowed my gaze at him. “What the hell does that mean?”
Jophiel’s expression changed to one of disinterest. “It means Uriel meddled with things he didn’t understand, and now his mistakes are sitting on Earth surrounded by demons.”
“What things?”
“That isn’t your concern.”
“It became my concern when we condemned her.” I stepped closer, but his wings opened farther and sent a sharp gust through the room. “You just told me she shouldn’t exist. Explain that.”
“I don’t owe you an explanation for every decision made by this council.”
“No, apparently nobody owes me anything except orders.”
His face tightened, and for a second I genuinely thought he was going to challenge me. Port moved between us before either of us could decide whether we were stupid enough to turn a council disagreement into bloodshed.
“Enough.” Her translucent form flickered as she looked between us. “This is not helping anyone.”
Jophiel’s eyes stayed on mine. “Ariuk is where she belongs for now. If you’re smart, you’ll stop asking questions that have already been answered.” A smile widened across his face as he tilted his head. “Also, some of the angels mentioned that filthy angel was up here asking for you.”
I frowned, taking a minute to digest that before it clicked. “Dante? He’s not… what did he want?”
“He mentioned something about Ariuk but we both know everything that comes out of that demon’s mouth is bullshit. I just thought you’d like to know that he’s ruffling feathers. And not good ones.”
He threw me a wink before disappearing with the others, leaving me to my own thoughts. Dante’s strange timing had me even more confused and now I needed to know if he had the answers I needed.
Technically, I wasn’t supposed to be on Earth without assignment but I was beginning to care less.
I headed for the one café we used to meet at, finding Dante in the same booth we used to share. “How did you know I was going to come?”
He grinned up at me. “Because archangels are horridly predictable.” He leaned back and glanced toward my untouched coffee. “I also know you, Raphael.”
My cheeks colored slightly before I fixed my expression. “Where is Ariuk?”
The question wiped most of the amusement from Dante’s face. His attention sharpened immediately, though he didn’t look surprised that I had asked. “She’s safe.”
“With you?” I asked, because apparently I needed every answer dragged out of him one piece at a time.
“Not exactly.” Dante reached across the table and stole the sugar packet I had been ignoring, turning it slowly between his fingers. “She’s with the demons she’s been spending time with.”
“That isn’t reassuring.” The thought of Ari surrounded by demons should have sounded absurd enough on its own, but too much had happened since her banishment for me to dismiss it outright.
Dante glanced down at the packet before looking back at me. “It should be more reassuring than sending her back upstairs.”
My jaw tightened. There it was again. Another answer that implied something without actually telling me enough to understand it. “That is exactly the kind of answer I’m tired of getting.”
Some of the humor left his face completely at that. Dante leaned back slightly, studying me in the way he used to when he knew I was angrier than I wanted to admit. “What happened?”
“Jophiel happened.” I pushed the coffee away before I did something stupid like throw it at the wall.
“I asked about Ari. I asked about Uriel. He told me to take a better look at Uriel’s creation because she shouldn’t exist the way she does.
” Saying it aloud made the words sound even worse.
Jophiel hadn’t called her corrupted or dangerous.
He had spoken about her existence itself like it was the problem.