Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
The portal was different than others Michael had passed through before. Normally, using a Rift was akin to stepping through a lighted archway. Quick and easy, a brief flash of light before you stepped out into your new location.
This was like walking under a waterfall of color.
It pressed on him like a curtain, shifting around him in shimmering waves of light and pressure.
Wary but intrigued, Michael lifted his hands and tried to press against the flowing mass.
It was warm, malleable, and utterly bizarre, bending away from his touch like wet clay.
Then the colors vanished, leaving him standing in a void of pure white, expanding as far as he could see. A shadow appeared before him, and then it solidified and darkened, resolving into the shape of Lucifer. “There you are.”
“Here I am.”
“We both need to focus on what we’re trying to see. Since there’s two of us, it should be easier, but technically there’s also a greater chance that we could mess it up.”
“Oh, that’s very reassuring.”
Luce narrowed his eyes. “The sass isn’t necessary. Just think back to…that day. Remember it, embrace it, and try to picture it in your mind’s eye as clearly as you can.”
Thinking about that day was always painful, and one of Michael’s least favorite things to do.
At first, he had tormented himself intentionally, dwelling and obsessing over every hint or sign he could have missed.
He had lost the taste for it with time and gentle support from Raphael and Uriel.
But it meant he didn’t have to focus very hard to draw up the memory in vivid detail.
A soft wind stirred up around them, and Michael closed his eyes.
He thought about the way the Garden had always smelled, wild and warm and faintly sweet.
He imagined the lilies and ferns bending gently beneath his fingertips as he walked along the dirt path, hands trailing into the foliage.
He recalled the sun, warm and soothing where it kissed and reddened his tanned skin.
The call of birds in the distance, the soft bubble of water in the creek that wound through the orchards…
It felt like he was back in that place, truly.
He opened his eyes and found Eden laid out before him.
Unlike the slightly muted and biased recollections he had been left with over the years, this was a riot of vivid color and light.
He turned and flinched backwards at the sight of…
himself. Younger, clad in armor they hadn’t used for several millennia, and facing away from where they had appeared at the edge of the garden’s gate.
Michael practically dove behind a tree to avoid being seen, peeking around the edge of the trunk just in time to see Jophiel approaching his past self. Lucifer eyed him with a smirk, remaining boldly in the center of the path.
“What are you doing?”
Michael’s eyes bulged as he shushed him, frantically gesturing toward the two angels exchanging greetings only a few yards away.
“They can’t hear or see us,” Luce laughed. “I would have warned you if being seen was going to be an issue.”
“Oh…” Feeling sheepish, Michael rose from his crouch in the bushes and rubbed the back of his burning neck. He could feel an identical flush tainting his cheeks and averted his gaze so he wouldn’t have to see Luce laughing at him.
“Come on, you big idiot,” Luce tugged at his elbow, then dropped it like a hot stone. He coughed, a flush dusting his own cheeks as he led the way forward. What the hell was he doing, behaving so casually with the other man? “We’re just in time. Let’s settle this debate once and for all.”
Michael turned his gaze back to his younger self.
He remembered this, of course, but he hadn’t expected to see himself looking…
like that. So young, so bold and sure of himself.
How would it feel, to be that confident and steadfast again?
How would it feel to know, without a doubt, that he was on the right path?
He shifted his gaze to the man beside him and realized that feeling of certainty and security had been lost when Luce had. He closed his eyes tight. Another brief tug at his elbow and he opened them, waving Luce off.
“I’m fine. Just…surprised to see myself from the outside, I suppose.”
“It can be an adjustment.” Luce leaned in, eyes narrowing as he watched Jophiel drop a hand heavily onto Michael’s shoulder. He snapped his fingers and everything froze, as if on pause. “Let’s get closer, I can’t hear shit.”
“He’s telling me—”
“Don’t take offense, but I’d rather hear for myself. Your word is thin with me at the moment.”
Well, that stung, and it was highly ironic, but it wasn’t unwarranted. They approached the scene, stopping a mere few feet from the angels. Luce wiggled his hands and the world blurred a bit before sliding back into motion.
Jophiel squeezed Michael’s shoulder where he gripped it, in the space between his neck and shoulder plate. “I know that it must be hard for you...to come braced for war and find betrayal.”
“I have found nothing as yet, Jo’theel.”
Michael started at the sound of his own voice, deep and resonant with confidence he hadn’t felt in millennia. Was that really how he sounded to others? Luce’s hand landed on his shoulder in a subconscious mirror of the scene before them.
“I know you want to believe the good in everyone, Mikha’el,” Jophiel sighed. “But...I have seen treason that cannot be denied, and you will see it as well.”
“Take me then. Show me what was so urgent that you dragged me from bed in the dead of night.”
“As you wish, but be warned…” Jophiel paused, letting his hand drop away. “It involves your Morningstar.”
Michael gripped the pommel of his sword where it hung from his hip. “So you claim. We shall see.”
Luce shifted his gaze to the present Michael. “You doubted.”
The revelation had waves of conflicted pleasure racing through him, chased by shame.
Was he so easily swayed that centuries of pain and heartache could be erased by a moment of hesitation?
What did it say about him that Lucifer almost hoped he would be proven wrong for the first time in his long life?
Michael made an indignant sound. “Of course I did! Until I saw with my own eyes, my trust in you never wavered.”
“An impressive loyalty. Unfortunate that it never extended to hearing my side of things.”
“What else was there to say? After what I saw?”
“I have yet to see what you claim,” Luce sniffed. He had to cling to his belief that he had been right all this time, because he wasn’t sure what it would mean for his sense of self if he had been wrong. “I think we’ll find that you had a skewed perspective of things, angel.”
They walked alongside the specters of the past, Jophiel and other-Michael seeming both corporeal and intangible at once. Michael lifted a hand, as if to brush his own shoulder, only for Luce to swat it away.
“That counts as interference.”
“They can’t see or hear us, but we can touch them?”
“I don’t make the rules, I’m only bound by them.”
They walked through the garden, as silent as the night around them. The air felt thick, heavy with tension and foreboding.
Michael could still feel the phantom drop in his stomach, mirroring the way his heart had plummeted through his guts that night. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but he wasn’t prepared for what they had found.
Lucifer knelt with his back facing them as they stopped and peered through the curtain of foliage.
He wore loose, dark pants and a finely tailored tunic of deep burgundy silk, his wings flared out in golden waves of feathers.
Partially concealed in the curve of his wing was Eve, leaning back against the oak of the massive tree that sheltered them, wearing nothing but a look of affection and amusement as she gazed sweetly up at Lucifer.
Even now, hot fury swelled in Michael at her brazenness.
She hadn’t known better, but the nudity of Adam and Eve had always been a point of awkward contention for the angels.
Beside him, Luce made a small noise of alarm.
Michael cast his gaze to the side and caught a glimpse of astonished confusion on the other man’s face.
“That…that isn’t me.” Luce stepped closer, bewildered, and Michael had to reach out and grab his arm to keep him from colliding with the specter of Jophiel.
“Eve, my sweet Eve,” Lucifer purred, leaning down to brush a feather light kiss onto her temple. “All you need do is take one bite, one small taste of these figs.”
Michael began to creep forward, masking his steps for the element of surprise, only to be brought up short by Jophiel’s grip on his shoulder.
“We must wait for proof, Mikha’el.”
Michael grumbled but sank back.
“Luci,” Eve giggled, looking up through dark lashes. “You know our father has forbidden us from eating of this tree.”
“Jehovah fears your mind, sweet girl. He fears what you could be capable of if you unbound yourself from his control.”
“His control?”
“There is power inside you, Eve.” Lucifer leaned in, voice dropping so low that Jophiel and Michael had to lean in as well. “It is called magic. When Jehovah created you, he left part of his power behind.”
“Magic?” Her emerald eyes widened, shining with wonder.
“Mortals were never meant to hold magic, Eve. It was intended to be kept selfishly by the seraphim. When Jehovah realized what he had done, he bound the power within you. But the fruits of this tree have the power to loosen your bonds.”
“Really?” Her voice was full of cautious curiosity.
“One taste, and you would have power beyond your wildest dreams. The power to create worlds, Eve, to reshape things in whatever grand and glorious fashion we choose.”
“We?”
“You and I, my darling sweet.” He kissed her temple again.
“But what of Adam?”
“What of him? A blind sheep, devoted to my brother.” He paused. “But perhaps we could help free his mind, once he sees the power you will possess.”