lost to the wind, "dear God, let this work, please make this work—"
Uriel could insert spiritual fingers into what Raphael had dragged back, but fitting the pieces together was like stitching marmalade. There wasn't nearly enough, and it had no cohesion.
Uriel pulled back from Raphael's sphere.
Mary had remained, Israfel at her side with one hand on her shoulder while the wind whipped their drenched hair.
"Do you need me to go?" There was no reason for it, but Mary's voice had reverted to a hospital hush that the storm scattered like dry leaves.
"Stay." Uriel looked at Israfel. "You should leave. Your substance might mix with his—but—"
Israfel didn't budge.
Uriel looked again at Raphael. "If anyone can heal him, he can. Their bond, plus his God-given healing ability. But…"
Michael reappeared, pale, his red hair tousled and his eyes stark. The Archangel's whole soul formed one question mark, but Uriel just let him sample the silence to sense their tension. Michael plunged his sword into the ground and leaned on it, then dropped to his knees and rested his forehead against the hilt.
Dear God, please make this work.
Mary turned to Israfel. "Are you still strengthening Gabriel?"
The angel faced the wind. "It's like pouring wine into a sieve."
Mary stepped closer to the pregnant orb that was Raphael, her face aflicker with the ferocity of eternity and existence struggling to survive. "Gabriel," she whispered, "it's okay. We're working. You're with friends. God loves you. We'll find a way."
Michael glanced at the Guard shimmering around the field. "We've got to move them both. If we're attacked here, now, I can't protect them. The slightest disruption—"
"Agreed." Israfel sheathed her sword. "I'll cast a Guard around Raphael and transport them together." She frowned. "Where to?"
"Gabriel's home," Michael said.
"No." Uriel looked back over one shoulder. "Mine. There's too much of Gabriel's residue in his library, and the same with Raphael's house. We're going to need to repair him, and we'll need to know what's him and what's not without a question."
Michael swallowed. "You're right. Mary—" He looked at her and drew a long breath. "I hate to say this, but stay here. Right where Raphael is now. In case something—some part of them gets left—"
She bit her lip.
Michael clasped his sword. "Okay. Move."
Israfel appeared above Raphael, flung out her arms and all six wings and cast a magenta sphere around the amber orb of the Seraph healer, shading him violet. Uriel set a second orb around Israfel, and first Israfel vanished, then Uriel. Mary sat on the grass, her eyes on Michael until he wrenched his sword from the hill and vanished too, bringing the Principality Guard with him.
It took another half hour for the storm to ebb, but Mary remained in the rain, eyes closed the whole time.
- + -
Uriel guided Israfel and Raphael into the bedroom of Uriel's bungalow. Uriel immediately changed the house so there were no windows, and the walls and floor met without any seams or chinks. With the room now doorless, Uriel turned to Raphael.
"I don't know what to do." Raphael's cracked words dissolved like a match shaken out.
Israfel added, "He's so weak."
Keep working. Uriel knelt in front of Raphael, who now existed half as disembodied energy and half his own spiritual form. The Throne extended a hand to the globule of an angel unrecognizable any longer as Gabriel. A touch evoked no response. "Gabriel? Cherub?"
"Oh, God, my God," Raphael whispered, his hands over the orb. "He can't die now. You can't let him die like this. Not among friends. Not with all of us here."
"He's firmer than he was." Michael had appeared from the hill and raked his hand back through his hair. Heat shimmered about him momentarily, and then the rain was gone from him. Israfel and Uriel had already done the same. "You're doing some good."
"I can't feel his mind." Raphael remained soaked from the storm, but Michael understood
Uriel could insert spiritual fingers into what Raphael had dragged back, but fitting the pieces together was like stitching marmalade. There wasn't nearly enough, and it had no cohesion.
Uriel pulled back from Raphael's sphere.
Mary had remained, Israfel at her side with one hand on her shoulder while the wind whipped their drenched hair.
"Do you need me to go?" There was no reason for it, but Mary's voice had reverted to a hospital hush that the storm scattered like dry leaves.
"Stay." Uriel looked at Israfel. "You should leave. Your substance might mix with his—but—"
Israfel didn't budge.
Uriel looked again at Raphael. "If anyone can heal him, he can. Their bond, plus his God-given healing ability. But…"
Michael reappeared, pale, his red hair tousled and his eyes stark. The Archangel's whole soul formed one question mark, but Uriel just let him sample the silence to sense their tension. Michael plunged his sword into the ground and leaned on it, then dropped to his knees and rested his forehead against the hilt.
Dear God, please make this work.
Mary turned to Israfel. "Are you still strengthening Gabriel?"
The angel faced the wind. "It's like pouring wine into a sieve."
Mary stepped closer to the pregnant orb that was Raphael, her face aflicker with the ferocity of eternity and existence struggling to survive. "Gabriel," she whispered, "it's okay. We're working. You're with friends. God loves you. We'll find a way."
Michael glanced at the Guard shimmering around the field. "We've got to move them both. If we're attacked here, now, I can't protect them. The slightest disruption—"
"Agreed." Israfel sheathed her sword. "I'll cast a Guard around Raphael and transport them together." She frowned. "Where to?"
"Gabriel's home," Michael said.
"No." Uriel looked back over one shoulder. "Mine. There's too much of Gabriel's residue in his library, and the same with Raphael's house. We're going to need to repair him, and we'll need to know what's him and what's not without a question."
Michael swallowed. "You're right. Mary—" He looked at her and drew a long breath. "I hate to say this, but stay here. Right where Raphael is now. In case something—some part of them gets left—"
She bit her lip.
Michael clasped his sword. "Okay. Move."
Israfel appeared above Raphael, flung out her arms and all six wings and cast a magenta sphere around the amber orb of the Seraph healer, shading him violet. Uriel set a second orb around Israfel, and first Israfel vanished, then Uriel. Mary sat on the grass, her eyes on Michael until he wrenched his sword from the hill and vanished too, bringing the Principality Guard with him.
It took another half hour for the storm to ebb, but Mary remained in the rain, eyes closed the whole time.
- + -
Uriel guided Israfel and Raphael into the bedroom of Uriel's bungalow. Uriel immediately changed the house so there were no windows, and the walls and floor met without any seams or chinks. With the room now doorless, Uriel turned to Raphael.
"I don't know what to do." Raphael's cracked words dissolved like a match shaken out.
Israfel added, "He's so weak."
Keep working. Uriel knelt in front of Raphael, who now existed half as disembodied energy and half his own spiritual form. The Throne extended a hand to the globule of an angel unrecognizable any longer as Gabriel. A touch evoked no response. "Gabriel? Cherub?"
"Oh, God, my God," Raphael whispered, his hands over the orb. "He can't die now. You can't let him die like this. Not among friends. Not with all of us here."
"He's firmer than he was." Michael had appeared from the hill and raked his hand back through his hair. Heat shimmered about him momentarily, and then the rain was gone from him. Israfel and Uriel had already done the same. "You're doing some good."
"I can't feel his mind." Raphael remained soaked from the storm, but Michael understood
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