Jake reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, then resettled us, shifting onto his side to spoon me. It didn't matter then—how or why he had recovered. All that mattered was that Jake was alive and holding me. It was a miracle that I would have paid any price for. So how could I balk at Jake doing the same?
“Goodnight, Jake,” I said.
“Goodnight, Indie.”
“Goodnight, Michael.”
Jake stiffened, then relaxed. Michael's voice came out of him, sounding even more velvety in the darkness. “Goodnight, Indigo.”
Chapter Seven
A week passed, and I was still there. Silas had a way about him that made you want to believe him, even if you didn't. I called my work and extended my vacation. They were very understanding. I wasn't. I couldn't figure out what the hell I was doing. Did I believe Silas was God, or was he an illusionist? People made a living off of stuff like this—making it appear that they had disappeared. That one guy even made it look as if a building had vanished. Or was it the Statue of Liberty? I couldn't remember. My mind was all a jumble these days.
I still hadn't been intimate with Jake. I just wasn't comfortable getting naked around a man who had another man inside him. And I know how that sounded—don't be nasty. I'm talking about a serious issue. I wanted to be with the man I loved. Sexually. It had been too long, and he was up for it now. Very up for it. Jake made an attempt every night. And sometimes during the day.
But I couldn't get past Michael. I mean, if this were all true, the Archangel Michael was inside my boyfriend. The most famous of the angels. I'm sure some deeply religious folks would be thrilled to be in my position. Some kinky folks too. They'd be into an angel joining in, or even just watching. Not me. I hadn't read the Bible since I was a kid in the orphanage, but from what I remembered, angels were not the kind of folks you wanted tomess with. I couldn't recall anything Michael did, in particular, only what he would do in Revelations. But I knew there were angels who God sent to kill people, even destroy cities.
I didn't want to get up close and personal with one.
Even with my reservations, Silas slowly got to me. It was the little things he did when he didn't think anyone was watching. He'd play with light, casting it over his fingers and smiling as if it were some great secret or achievement. I suppose that should have led me more toward the magician conclusion. God wouldn't delight in his power like that. But it felt so innocent when he did it and in that innocence, there could be no subterfuge. I don't know. I just felt more and more every day that he was genuine.
There was none of the awkward, cringy culty stuff I expected. Well, a little. They were all believers, and that was a little cringy in itself. But when I walked around the property or sat down by the lake, waiting for Jake to come back from one of his daily Michael excursions, no one acted weird with me. People said hello and made small talk, but they didn't launch into sermons or watch me if I got too close to my car. I wasn't a prisoner. I was told that over and over. I even went into town a few times and no one tried to stop me.
And there were many people there. Those other homes I mentioned? They were basically barracks for God's “soldiers.” One woman invited me in for an evening glass of wine, and I got to see the setup inside. It looked like a normal house, just full of people. When I went to the bathroom, I had glimpsed bunk beds in the rooms, but they were nice ones, made of solid wood. A little cultish, I suppose, but more like camp, than cult. I started to relax after that day.
Then came the induction.
Part of Jake's duties, or Michael's rather, was to recruit more people to God's army. Those Michael excursions I just mentioned were Jake's job as well. He went out alone most days and always returned with at least one person. At first, I wasn't allowed to see how they were welcomed into the fold. But finally, Silas decided it was time for me to witness the induction process. His words, not mine.
“Humans are fragile,” Silas said as he led me to a seat.
We were in the main living room—a space that soared up the entire four stories of the log palace, its vaulted ceiling crossed by enormous beams that dangled masculine chandeliers composed of antlers. A fireplace made of natural stones swept up into a chimney that made a column to the roof, emphasizing the height. To either side of it, where some cowboy might have hung more antlers to go with the light fixtures, were paintings of angels.
I sat down in the leather chair Silas had brought me to and glanced around the room. People stood around the edges. None of them were newbies. I mean, not the newbies of the day. Several were men and women who Michael had collected during the last three days and the rest were old timers. Furniture stood behind the people, shoved against the walls to clear the center of the room. There, under the poky lights, stood a long, metal wash basin over a tarp. An antique, from the look of it. Like something horses might drink out of. It was half full of water.
I assumed the induction was a baptism. Very on brand.
“Now, this is going to be startling for you,” Silas said. “You need to understand that it's necessary. We're fightinghellhounds, and they have demonic power. The only way I can strengthen a human is through resurrection, as I once did with Jesus.”
“Resurrection?” I looked at the basin again. “Not baptism?”
“It's similar.”
I stared at him, then at the tub. Then back at him, horror rising in my chest. Resurrection. That could only be done with a corpse. Silas mentioned Jesus. Hadn't Jesus been dead three days before he came back to life? Then why the water? It had to be drowning. That wouldn't leave any marks on a body. And water is easier to deal with than blood.
“Are you going to kill them?” I demanded.
Silas didn't hesitate to answer. “Yes. Michael will drown them, one at a time, and I will immediately resurrect them before their soul can leave. This will infuse their mortal bodies with divine magic. It's the only way I can even the playing field, so to speak. I will make them stronger, faster, and more resilient. In short, they will be born anew as my soldiers.”
“Oh, fuck,” I whispered.
“If it's too much for you, you can—”
“No,” I said. “Do it. If I don't see it, my mind will come up with something that will probably be much worse.”
Silas stared at me for a long moment, then nodded. He got up and motioned to Jake. Jake motioned at one of the other men—one of God's reborn soldiers. Or minions, as I called them. In my head. Because the nuns taught me manners.
Oh, damn. I wonder what Sister Hannah would think of this?The thought threatened to make me smile.
