“You don’t have to be sarcastic, jackass.”
“Sorry. The point stands.”
“It is a fair point,” Uriel paused fora 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…shewas.”
“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 toJeho, 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 onthen.” 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 togenuflect 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 bestfruits 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’mGod. I’m the Father of the Heavens, the Maker of Worlds,and Kingof all Creation. I made this palace. I made everything around it and the entire world that sprawls out for the mortals. I madeyou.And Michael?” He uncrossed his leg and leaned forward, bracing both hands on the arms of his throne. “I canunmakeyou just as easily.”
