trying it on me. And you can feel free to repeat that."
"I didn't mean—"
"Naturally you didn't." Lucifer continued writing. "Tell me, do you think it hurt Raphael when I broke their bond?"
Shaking, Mephistopheles clenched his fists. "I can't say."
"But surely you suspect. I've never seen fit to permanently fetter myself with such an anchor, but you and Beelzebub use the bond to your mutual advantage enough that I consider you an expert."
Mephistopheles bit his lip. Lucifer was definitely writing in hiragana, but it might have been anything at all. A report, a poem, even the crossword puzzle. "I just violated God's sovereignty in a permanent way" ten thousand times.
"If it didn't hurt at the moment," Mephistopheles said, "then I'm certain it hurts now."
"Very well." Lucifer set down his pen. "Let me know if you ever want all your bonds broken. Dismissed."
Mephistopheles found himself in his own chamber, pushed back through his own Guards. He sat on his desk with his head in his hands.
- + -
They'd prayed. The group of angels and humans at the playground had prayed. Everyone in Heaven had prayed, once word went out. But Michael's sword was his prayer, and Raphael's deep injection of power toward Gabriel's soul was his. Uriel and Mary stood, hands clasped, tears over-shining both their faces as they united in prayer for one thing, one thing only.
A dozen Principalities maintained a dome-shaped Guard over the field, shielding the archangels and saints.
Across the field, Raphael had drawn storm clouds, six wings extended, eyes raised, wind whipping around him louder than a shout. Parents had gathered their children into minivans to hurry them home in advance of the storm, not knowing this storm would encompass all Heaven and Hell.
Beside Raphael at the storm's center stood Israfel, adding her Seraph surge to the might that had shredded the temple veil and shaken the Earth on Good Friday. Their combined strength shot through creation like a needle: deep, insubstantial, a probe into the heart of Hell searching for the heart of God.
Find him.
Then Michael found Gabriel, found his own sigil protesting on Mephistopheles' hand, found Remiel's sigils shrieking rage, and he tracked their outcry through the labyrinths of the mind to the locked room in a lightless area. He landed on the roof of the room, then grasped and targeted that Seraphic spike, guiding it into the Guard like a surgeon's biopsy needle. Using his sword, he'd pried at the Guard—not enough to force himself inside, although the bonded pair within thought that was his intent. Instead he called to his sigil, and it responded. With thrusting against both sides, he widened the mesh just enough to slip that filament inside.
Like a pump, Israfel and Raphael had flooded Gabriel with their strength, sending all but their souls into Gabriel's heart. Raphael couldn't force himself through, but he struggled to feed more than a tendril of power through the eye of that needle. And when at the end they all realized it was too late, not enough, no more time, Raphael engulfed whatever he could and aspirated everything out of that cell.
With a cry, Raphael snapped back into himself, but more than himself because within him he contained the dissolved remnants of his bonded Cherub. Israfel dropped her sword.
Uriel rolled out a command to the others like a shock wave: Everybody leave!
Raphael knelt, eyes flared, hands open as if at a loss for what to do next, how to fasten together the shattered slivers of a soul. Millions of them.
"Heal him!" Uriel's breath brushed Raphael's lips, their faces were so close. "Heal him—all of you! Don't let a single part of you not be healing him!"
Raphael enfolded his wings around himself and Uriel. An amber sheen suffused the Seraph, pulsing, searching, seeking out every sliver of Gabriel—glue to grains of sand. The energy formed up like egg-white, shimmering in Raphael's lap.
"Dear God," Uriel was whispering in a voice
"I didn't mean—"
"Naturally you didn't." Lucifer continued writing. "Tell me, do you think it hurt Raphael when I broke their bond?"
Shaking, Mephistopheles clenched his fists. "I can't say."
"But surely you suspect. I've never seen fit to permanently fetter myself with such an anchor, but you and Beelzebub use the bond to your mutual advantage enough that I consider you an expert."
Mephistopheles bit his lip. Lucifer was definitely writing in hiragana, but it might have been anything at all. A report, a poem, even the crossword puzzle. "I just violated God's sovereignty in a permanent way" ten thousand times.
"If it didn't hurt at the moment," Mephistopheles said, "then I'm certain it hurts now."
"Very well." Lucifer set down his pen. "Let me know if you ever want all your bonds broken. Dismissed."
Mephistopheles found himself in his own chamber, pushed back through his own Guards. He sat on his desk with his head in his hands.
- + -
They'd prayed. The group of angels and humans at the playground had prayed. Everyone in Heaven had prayed, once word went out. But Michael's sword was his prayer, and Raphael's deep injection of power toward Gabriel's soul was his. Uriel and Mary stood, hands clasped, tears over-shining both their faces as they united in prayer for one thing, one thing only.
A dozen Principalities maintained a dome-shaped Guard over the field, shielding the archangels and saints.
Across the field, Raphael had drawn storm clouds, six wings extended, eyes raised, wind whipping around him louder than a shout. Parents had gathered their children into minivans to hurry them home in advance of the storm, not knowing this storm would encompass all Heaven and Hell.
Beside Raphael at the storm's center stood Israfel, adding her Seraph surge to the might that had shredded the temple veil and shaken the Earth on Good Friday. Their combined strength shot through creation like a needle: deep, insubstantial, a probe into the heart of Hell searching for the heart of God.
Find him.
Then Michael found Gabriel, found his own sigil protesting on Mephistopheles' hand, found Remiel's sigils shrieking rage, and he tracked their outcry through the labyrinths of the mind to the locked room in a lightless area. He landed on the roof of the room, then grasped and targeted that Seraphic spike, guiding it into the Guard like a surgeon's biopsy needle. Using his sword, he'd pried at the Guard—not enough to force himself inside, although the bonded pair within thought that was his intent. Instead he called to his sigil, and it responded. With thrusting against both sides, he widened the mesh just enough to slip that filament inside.
Like a pump, Israfel and Raphael had flooded Gabriel with their strength, sending all but their souls into Gabriel's heart. Raphael couldn't force himself through, but he struggled to feed more than a tendril of power through the eye of that needle. And when at the end they all realized it was too late, not enough, no more time, Raphael engulfed whatever he could and aspirated everything out of that cell.
With a cry, Raphael snapped back into himself, but more than himself because within him he contained the dissolved remnants of his bonded Cherub. Israfel dropped her sword.
Uriel rolled out a command to the others like a shock wave: Everybody leave!
Raphael knelt, eyes flared, hands open as if at a loss for what to do next, how to fasten together the shattered slivers of a soul. Millions of them.
"Heal him!" Uriel's breath brushed Raphael's lips, their faces were so close. "Heal him—all of you! Don't let a single part of you not be healing him!"
Raphael enfolded his wings around himself and Uriel. An amber sheen suffused the Seraph, pulsing, searching, seeking out every sliver of Gabriel—glue to grains of sand. The energy formed up like egg-white, shimmering in Raphael's lap.
"Dear God," Uriel was whispering in a voice
Similar Books
