was time to put aside old hostilities for the sake of something so much bigger.
Exhausted, Remiel fell to his knees, listening with all his might for an answer, but except for the sounds of the city coming to life outside, the place of worship remained silent. Slowly, the angel climbed to his feet, abandoning the guise of a Heavenly warrior and slipping comfortably back into the guise of humanity he had worn for so many years.
Remy looked around the church, senses on the alert, but still there was nothing.
Still there was no response.
Is this how it’s to be now? he wondered. Is no one listening to me anymore? Or is there some other reason that my prayers go unanswered?
Perhaps the drums of war beat much louder than even he suspected.
He was ready to leave, ready to reveal his wings again and take himself back outside to reunite with Marlowe and Dottie, when he felt a sudden change in the atmosphere of the church.
As if something had been added.
Remy turned, eyes scanning his surroundings, and he found it—someone sitting tall in one of the pews, staring straight ahead toward the altar.
“Hello?” Remy called out.
At first the figure did not react. But then he spoke, his voice soft yet powerful. “Hello, Remiel.
“I would have come sooner,” the figure continued as he turned eyes as dark as space to Remy, “but, as you can probably guess, things are terribly hectic.”
“There’s a war brewing, don’t you know.”
• • •
His name was Montagin, and Remy had not seen him since the first war against the Morningstar. How apropos that he would be the one to come to Remy now.
“How long has it been?” Montagin asked, turning to face the angel as Remy slid into the pew.
“Let’s just say that it’s been a long time,” Remy replied, trying to keep it friendly.
“It was right after the war, wasn’t it?” the angel asked. His eyes twinkled mischievously.
This was one of the many reasons that Remy had left Heaven: Angels were basically assholes.
“It was,” Remy agreed tightly.
“Right before your little tantrum that ended up with you settling . . .” Montagin’s dark eyes darted about, seeing not only the church, but the world outside it. “Here.”
Remy didn’t respond to the angel’s malicious grin.
“So how have you been?” Montagin then asked, unbuttoning his suit coat so that he was able to cross his long legs without wrinkling the linen. The off-white suit appeared very expensive, and he was wearing what looked to be Italian loafers, without socks.
Very stylish for a creature of Heaven; Remy had to wonder how long he’d been in this world.
“Fine,” Remy said, casually nodding. “I’m surprised to see you.”
Montagin smiled. “Just happened to be listening and I wasn’t too far away. Actually it should have been Aszrus who answered, but he had some business to take care of tonight.”
The mention of Aszrus caused an icy chill of concern to pass through Remy’s body. “Aszrus is here?” he asked.
Montagin nodded. “Has been here for quite some time. We’ve always anticipated that what’s happening would occur.”
“And what exactly is that?” Remy asked.
Montagin chuckled coldly. “You’re not that far removed from what you are, Remiel,” he said. “You’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to know—not to see—what’s been unfolding all across this planet.”
“You mentioned a war,” Remy prompted.
“And that will likely be the end result,” Montagin acknowledged, slowly rotating his foot. Remy was reminded of a cat’s tail languidly swishing back and forth just before it pounced.
“I’m sure you know that the Morningstar has returned to Tartarus and is in the process of reshaping it into who knows what?” Montagin leaned forward toward Remy.
“Yeah, I’d heard something about that.”
“Good,” the angel said. “Then you’re not as far gone as I feared.”
“So this is all about the Morningstar,” Remy
Exhausted, Remiel fell to his knees, listening with all his might for an answer, but except for the sounds of the city coming to life outside, the place of worship remained silent. Slowly, the angel climbed to his feet, abandoning the guise of a Heavenly warrior and slipping comfortably back into the guise of humanity he had worn for so many years.
Remy looked around the church, senses on the alert, but still there was nothing.
Still there was no response.
Is this how it’s to be now? he wondered. Is no one listening to me anymore? Or is there some other reason that my prayers go unanswered?
Perhaps the drums of war beat much louder than even he suspected.
He was ready to leave, ready to reveal his wings again and take himself back outside to reunite with Marlowe and Dottie, when he felt a sudden change in the atmosphere of the church.
As if something had been added.
Remy turned, eyes scanning his surroundings, and he found it—someone sitting tall in one of the pews, staring straight ahead toward the altar.
“Hello?” Remy called out.
At first the figure did not react. But then he spoke, his voice soft yet powerful. “Hello, Remiel.
“I would have come sooner,” the figure continued as he turned eyes as dark as space to Remy, “but, as you can probably guess, things are terribly hectic.”
“There’s a war brewing, don’t you know.”
• • •
His name was Montagin, and Remy had not seen him since the first war against the Morningstar. How apropos that he would be the one to come to Remy now.
“How long has it been?” Montagin asked, turning to face the angel as Remy slid into the pew.
“Let’s just say that it’s been a long time,” Remy replied, trying to keep it friendly.
“It was right after the war, wasn’t it?” the angel asked. His eyes twinkled mischievously.
This was one of the many reasons that Remy had left Heaven: Angels were basically assholes.
“It was,” Remy agreed tightly.
“Right before your little tantrum that ended up with you settling . . .” Montagin’s dark eyes darted about, seeing not only the church, but the world outside it. “Here.”
Remy didn’t respond to the angel’s malicious grin.
“So how have you been?” Montagin then asked, unbuttoning his suit coat so that he was able to cross his long legs without wrinkling the linen. The off-white suit appeared very expensive, and he was wearing what looked to be Italian loafers, without socks.
Very stylish for a creature of Heaven; Remy had to wonder how long he’d been in this world.
“Fine,” Remy said, casually nodding. “I’m surprised to see you.”
Montagin smiled. “Just happened to be listening and I wasn’t too far away. Actually it should have been Aszrus who answered, but he had some business to take care of tonight.”
The mention of Aszrus caused an icy chill of concern to pass through Remy’s body. “Aszrus is here?” he asked.
Montagin nodded. “Has been here for quite some time. We’ve always anticipated that what’s happening would occur.”
“And what exactly is that?” Remy asked.
Montagin chuckled coldly. “You’re not that far removed from what you are, Remiel,” he said. “You’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to know—not to see—what’s been unfolding all across this planet.”
“You mentioned a war,” Remy prompted.
“And that will likely be the end result,” Montagin acknowledged, slowly rotating his foot. Remy was reminded of a cat’s tail languidly swishing back and forth just before it pounced.
“I’m sure you know that the Morningstar has returned to Tartarus and is in the process of reshaping it into who knows what?” Montagin leaned forward toward Remy.
“Yeah, I’d heard something about that.”
“Good,” the angel said. “Then you’re not as far gone as I feared.”
“So this is all about the Morningstar,” Remy