Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
“Come on, old man. Keep up!”
Michael grumbled, pacing in a steady circle with his eyes fixed on Uriel’s fist, the line of his shoulders, the slight shift of his feet that hinted at his movements.
“I know you can do better than this,” the other man taunted, attempting a punch that Michael deflected easily. “I need to break in these new muscles, you gonna help me or just keep dancing around?”
Michael grunted and dodged, ducking a blow aimed at his shoulder, but staggered as a second heavy blow landed on his exposed left side. He grumbled as a dull ache shot through his ribs.
“I’m surprised I even landed a hit.” Uriel panted lightly, lifting the hem of his loose tank top to wipe the sweat from his face. “Something is weighing on you.”
Michael cast his eyes aside, adjusting his wrist wraps to avoid having to respond.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
The taller angel sank down on a bench, wiping at his sweating brow with a hand towel. “You wouldn’t have been hurt if we weren’t caught up in this mess.”
“I’m sure I would’ve found a way to get hurt without help,” Uriel snorted, dropping down beside him on the mat and rubbing at the back of his neck. “But I know you, after all these centuries. Something else is wearing you down.”
Michael shook his head, and Uriel frowned. “Don’t insult me with a lie, Michael.”
He avoided answering right away by sweeping the gym for potential threats. Their glamours were refreshed, but a soldier was a soldier, and Michael was never really able to let his guard down. Uriel waited patiently, sipping from a bottle of water and laying back on the mat to stretch his muscles.
Finally, unable to avoid the topic further, the warrior raked a broad hand through sweat-dampened curls, then dragged it over his weary face. “All these years…and he still hates me. I can’t say I blame him.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…have you ever, you know, apologized?”
“And when would that have been?”
“You don’t have to be sarcastic, jackass.”
“Sorry. The point stands.”
“It is a fair point,” Uriel paused for a long sip of his water. “We still have no idea where Hell is. The others don’t seem to leave very often.”
“Mags is the only one with the ability to come and go from both Heaven and Hell. Or at least…she was.”
“I can feel the self-loathing from over here, Mike.” Uriel chided, then sighed. “You’re not at fault for this.”
“If I hadn’t dismissed her ideas—”
“Then you would have taken her to Jeho, and she would have been arrested for heresy instead of treason. And potentially you too, for ‘collaborating’ with a heretic.” Uriel set his water bottle aside, starting to stretch as a warm up to return to sparring.
“But I—”
Uriel looked up from his position bent in half to grip his ankle and stretch his hamstring. “You can feel helpless and upset on her behalf without taking on the responsibility and blame.”
Michael grunted, scanning again around the near-empty gymnasium to avoid looking at his friend. They couldn’t return to Heaven without Mags, and they couldn’t find their way back to Hell—Pyzzyk had made sure of that when she deposited them back on the same rooftop they had come from.
It was frustrating, but they were soldiers who knew the best way to deal with frustration was to fight it out. So, they found a gym to spar, and yet nothing had helped Michael quell the turmoil in his heart and mind.
“Come on then.” Uriel rose from the mat, extending a hand to his superior. “If you’re going to brood, I want another chance to get a hit in!”
Michael made an affronted sound, and Uriel laughed.
“Pardon me, sirs,” a small voice interrupted, and they turned in unison to see a boy around the age of twelve or so. He was slight and pale, with sandy brown hair falling around his ears and the subtle shimmer to his skin that marked him as a young seraph, still new to glamouring.
God, he was so young.
He wore a determined expression as he thrust a small parcel wrapped in twine towards them. “I have a message from the King.”
Michael bolted to his feet and took the proffered package. “Thank you.”
The boy nodded curtly and went back out the way he came, leaving the angels to wonder exactly how they were about to be reprimanded.
“You kept me waiting, Michael,” Jehovah rumbled from his throne, glaring fiercely at the blond once they had unwrapped and powered up the projector cube.
“Apologies.” Michael straightened from a full bow to genuflect on one knee, the rough concrete digging into his skin and grounding him as his anxious pulse jumped. “We had to find a suitably private space.”
They had slipped through the back halls of the gym and up onto the roof, the best they could manage on short notice.
Uriel was walking the perimeter while Michael crouched behind some duct work to keep the image from the cube shielded, and the general tried not to think about how ridiculous he must look in this position.
“It wouldn’t have been an issue if you had simply completed your mission and returned.
” Jehovah plucked a candied fig from the bowl at his elbow and popped it into his mouth.
He leaned back, looking completely at ease as he brought one leg up to cross it over his knee.
“I demand an explanation for your failure.”
“Uriel and I managed to gain access to Hell, but we were kept ignorant of the location. When I was able to strike out on my own, I traveled a majority of the stronghold and its surroundings. Unfortunately, I could not gain custody of Mary Magdalene.”
“Why.” Not a question, but a demand.
“Lucifer has hidden her from us. I went so far as to confront him, but I was rebuked and cast out. The girl is beyond our reach.”
“No.” Jehovah skimmed the bowl of figs, picking pieces out at random and inspecting them before tossing them back.
He finally selected one and held it aloft.
“You see, Michael, I have this bowl of candied figs. They’re delicious—my favorites, in fact.
Unfortunately, there is always the chance that even the best fruits will spoil.
Fortunately, I am quite skilled at determining which fruits are the sweetest, and which have begun to turn. ”
A tremor of fear began in Michael’s legs. With a massive effort, he willed them to still, for his face to maintain its mask of stoicism. Just out of the cube’s range, Uriel’s expression was blatantly alarmed.
“You see,” Jehovah continued, his tone measured and cheerful as he tilted the fig so the sugar crystals caught the light.
“All the sugar coating in the world is never going to hide that persistent, slow, creeping rot that ruins a perfect fruit. And I only keep the fruits I’ll enjoy. Anything with a spoiled core, well…”
He popped the fig into his mouth, chewing slowly and making direct eye contact with Michael, whose pulse steadily climbed as he waited for the axe to fall. Uriel looked like he was about to be sick, all pretense of keeping watch abandoned as his dark eyes bored into Michael’s face with concern.
“I simply have no desire to abide those things. Why should I? I’m God.
I’m the Father of the Heavens, the Maker of Worlds, and King of all Creation.
I made this palace. I made everything around it and the entire world that sprawls out for the mortals.
I made you. And Michael?” He uncrossed his leg and leaned forward, bracing both hands on the arms of his throne. “I can unmake you just as easily.”
Michael kept his head bowed, lips and palms pressed firmly together as he waited for permission to rise.
“Get up, soldier, and return to your mission.”
Straightening slowly, Michael lifted his head and rose to his feet. “But sir… my King. How do you expect me to surpass your brother in skill?”
“I don’t,” Jehovah snapped, ocean eyes narrowing to slits. “I expect you to stop lying to me, because I can discern your half-truths. You failed to gain custody of her? That doesn’t mean you didn’t find her; it only means you left without her.”
“Because Lucifer—”
“Because of your bleeding heart, you mean.” The King sighed, sitting back and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know you care for her. We all do. She’s the consort of my own son; you think I care nothing for the girl?”
“I never meant to imply—”
“The boy lives for millennia, and he never even looks at another woman. I know he loves her, so a part of me does as well. But we have laws, Michael, and you know this better than most. I, more than anyone, am bound by those laws.
It is a heavier burden than I would wish on you, and I bear it best I can. There are times I fail, and it is because of this that I rely on you—my soldiers, my sentinels—to help enforce these laws. You swore that oath to me, Michael.”
Michael swallowed hard around the lump in his throat.
“I understand you have reservations, my son. But everything must be kept in line. She broke a law; she must be punished. I couldn’t bend these rules for my own flesh and blood, so I certainly can’t for anyone else. Even I am bound by the laws.”
“Yes…I understand.”
“Then go. Find the girl and return her to Heaven.”
Michael nodded slowly and reached to close the connection.
“Oh, and Michael?” He paused, and Jehovah smiled warmly at him. “If you aren’t coming back with Mary Magdalene... Don’t come back at all. Or it will be your trial.”
Michael gritted his teeth but kept his expression blank and his tone measured. “I understand.”
“Then go in peace, my child. Have faith and do well.”
The connection closed, and in the silence, Uriel pocketed the cube. “What are we supposed to do now, Mike?”