Two cushions away, a thin, muddy-brown-haired Protector stood, his mottled gray and tan wings rustling like he didn’t quite know what to do with them, and spoke hesitantly. “So, the first thing is that Purity in Protectors is vital to complete the tasks set before us. Any Protector returning to Earth for a mission who isn’t stainless will almost certainly be less effective, and may fail at the mission entirely due to their own imbalance.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a cork on a fishing line. “If a Protector is on a mission and there is a choice to be made that will lead to, um, more smut… I mean, an imbalance on the Protector’s side, even if it means abandoning the mission, the Protector is required to choose the path of Purity. Though some imbalance is inevitable, um—” His eyes flew to me, taking in the dark gray smears that I’d gotten from mating Mikhail.
“The third.” Prosperity’s voice cracked like a whip in the silence.
Truth jumped and finished, “The third rule states that Purity in a Protector is always apparent visually. This assures that there is no way to hide an imbalance, or an impure act. That it manifests outwardly and must be removed in Sanctuary to protect our community.”
“And what happens if we don’t protect our community?” the teacher said, their robe turned toward me now. “What happens to the collective if an impure individual is allowed to roam freely, spreading their own imbalance through the halls of our Sanctuary?”
Truth shrugged. “I don’t know.” Something like a flicker of gold lightning, a trail of sparks, flicked out from the Guide’s voluminous sleeve, and Truth yelped before sitting back down.
“Did you just hit him?” I blurted out.
The Guide took a step closer to me. “You have not been given the floor, Protector.”
I settled back onto my cushion, throwing a sympathetic glance at Truth, who scowled back. The class went on like that, hours of rules and restrictions that seemed to go against everything I’d learned from Rumple, or even Mikhail and Gavriel. I tuned back in when the conversation turned to Righteous.
“… and though he tries to hide the stain he’s worn for centuries, our own Head Protector Righteous is a cautionary tale for you all.”
“What happened?” someone piped up. “How did he get that permanent stain on his arm?”
I was curious about that, too, but I didn’t like the way the Guide seemed to relish talking about it, like they were sharing some salacious gossip.
“He hasn’t shared that with anyone other than the High Angeli, but that stain is the only thing preventing him from ascending. Protectors Valor and Hope have both applied for permission to plan their ascension ceremonies as soon as possible. Now that the gate is operable again—though there is no way to know how long it will remain so—being ready to ascend is vital.”
I raised my hand, and the Guide reluctantly called on me. “Why, your Guideship? I mean, ascending just means going to the Celestial Realm, right? But there’s so much work to do on Earth, and Sanctuary’s not bad. It’s like a four-star hotel.” I hesitated. “Well, okay, like a fancy hotel set on a super active fault line. But it’s not awful here. The sheets are amazing.”
A few others hummed in appreciation, but the Guide made a disgusted sound. “We were made for more than this,” they sputtered, waving a hand around the room. I took a quick breath through my nose, and froze. Had someone else farted? The room smelled like sour laundry all of a sudden. “We were meant for the Celestial Realm. This is a temporary, onerous assignment. My heart breaks for Righteous, knowing he will never ascend. But as soon as Gavriel returns to Sanctuary, I can promise you the pure among us will be taken through the gate and move on to a superior realm.”
This was something I hadn’t heard before. “Wait, once it’s working, you just walk through the gate and end up in the Celestial Realm? It’s that easy?”
“Of course not,” they scoffed. “Normally, one of the High Angeli must approve a passage to the Celestial Realm. They inspect us to make certain we are pure. Otherwise, we might not ascend, and fall instead into the Abyss.”
I exhaled. “That’s good.” I had a feeling Gavriel and Mikhail wouldn’t let anyone pass through the gate who might fall. “Why hasn’t anyone ascended for so long, though?”
“I forget how little you know.” The Guide gave a small, satisfied chuckle, before walking my way. The sour funk seemed to travel with them, and I examined their robes for smut. It was either bean burrito day in the Guide teachers’ lounge, or their robes hadn’t been put in the magical tumble dryer long enough or… They leaned close, and I almost gagged. The putrid smell was coming from their breath. I almost recognized it from Earth; I’d smelled it before. But where? I wanted to mention the breath issue, perhaps offer a mint if I could beg someone to check their toga pockets for one, but the odor was making me queasy. I slapped a hand over my mouth, just in case.
“Ascension comes with a price. Sanctuary draws power from each ascended Angelus. When a Protector first ascends, it can be difficult to moderate the effect of the pull on the soul.”
“So… people just didn’t want to have to pitch in?” My voice was squeaky through my fingers.
“Such ignorance.” Their patronizing tone was even worse when they waved the others who laughed to be silent. “Sanctuary needed strong Protectors, not weak Angeli. And with no possibility of soulmating and moving on, there was no reason for our best and brightest to weaken themselves.” It still sounded like a load of donkey dung to me, but I held my mouth shut and nodded.
“The Guides were expected to stay in Sanctuary, with the war for balance on Earth requiring more of us here than ever. We all chose to stay, Guides and Protectors alike, and vowed on our wings to gain permission from the leader of Sanctuary before attempting to cross. The gate was so weak, it was decided no one could attempt it.”
I saw tiny stars as I held my breath, the Guide’s hood gaping open. I could just make out an angry, hard face. A hooked nose, a narrow chin, and the glint of a tooth.
“When you made your pitiful attempt at a sacrifice—and it didn’t surprise any of us that your sacrifice was rejected—you sealed the gate temporarily. That made it clear to all of us. It’s time to move on. This realm is weak, and we deserve more.”
“I thought Guides were supposed to give up their names and their work on Earth to serve here,” I said, still trying not to vomit as I sucked in a breath to speak. Their sleeve rolled up, and I saw a forearm, perfect and shining almost as bright as Gavriel had before he’d picked up that smut on his last mission. Why did this Guide stink? “I thought you were the role models for sacrifice.”
“It wasn’t meant to be a life sentence,” they spat out, a tiny bit of spittle flying from their mouth and landing on my toga. “Onlythe purest, most gifted are selected as Guides. Teaching the future generations is a privilege. One that leads to even greater rewards!”
I stared down at the spot on my robe where their spit had landed. It was dark gray, and the grease from it was already staining the fabric there. My eyes flew to theirs as they sucked in a breath. “Greater rewards? I think your ash is showing there, prof,” I murmured just loud enough for them to hear. “That’s not a good look for a Guide. I can recommend a super effective way to get rid of stubborn smut stains. I even know who has the tool for the job.”
The Guide’s robes trembled—with rage or fear, I wasn’t sure. I held still, ready to duck if they lashed out. “Seminar is dismissed,” they announced suddenly and whirled away, heading back for their lectern and the secret door. “Spend the rest of your time purifying your bodies and clearing your minds.”
The room was still, until one student spoke up. “What’s going on? The Guide never stops class early.”
I stood. There was something really, really wrong with this Guide. Not only with what they had taught, but… it dawned on me where I’d smelled that funky odor before. It was what that slimy politician had smelled like after I’d dusted him for selling children into slavery in Ecuador. His evil had smelled sour, like old, ruined laundry.
