The Light Between (Part 5)

Chapter 16 - Sins

Countless nights spent staring into a fire’s dancing flames or into skies darkened by midnight’s gloom flooded everything, twisting as a barbed arrow within the chest. Abandoned by a father whose infinite radiance had turned as cold as the snow he’d left her in, a young girl had wrestled with inner scars which seeped anew from every self-perceived failure. Even her uncle - though he had at least stayed - always bore into her soul with hooded eyes of penetrating and absolute judgment.

Only Siabh had held her tenderly. Only the fae priestess had softly offered words of love and support.

But some nights those hadn’t been enough. And as the long hours crept towards dawn the child had whispered the same questions over and over:

Does my mother also think me worthless? Is that why she never came for me?

Is she ashamed of me too?

All of Aradia’s pain crashed to the surface and it must have shown across my face as well as in the trembling of shoulders and the wings they carried.

Yet Artemis too looked lost, the natural regal bearing clashing against her own internal storms.

The dragon coughed into the strangled silence. “I shall go on ahead.”

A blast of wind and he was airborne. Not that we watched him go.

The phalanx guard, either from a mentally communicated command or simply from a desire to run for the hills, turned to begin a rapid march up the path leading to the arena Drathonix quickly glided towards.

That left the two of us alone, standing upon a platform overlooking clouds and clear blue sky. A goddess and an angel, both in simple yet elegant white tunics and both with absolutely no idea how to handle the situation.

She broke the stare first, looking first down at her sandaled feet and then out at the view. “Have you nothing to say?”

Unlike the girl my spirit had once been, I had but the one question. “Why?”

“That…is complicated to explain.”

“Is it.” Hands fidgeted, unsure of what to do with themselves. The marble surface was also chilly against toes that were again bare. “Try.”

“Alright. But let us sit.” Walking closer to the edge, a flat bench simply rose out of the stony ground for our use - its stylized supports decorated with carved ivy and scenes of fawns and dryads frolicking amidst chiseled foliage. She sat while still facing the sky’s expanse lying before us, crossing runner’s legs as she did, then patted the stone beside her. “Come.”

After hesitating I did so, slender arches dangling toes over the side so I could hug both knees while all the crystalline feathers trailed out behind, the longer ones brushing the ground.

Once I was settled she asked, “How much do you remember of your father?”

“Very little,” I admitted. “Glimpses of the war in Heaven and of when he Fell. Only those and a child’s earliest memories, more fragments than substance.”

“Then let me share mine, mother to daughter. For I am a huntress and not a story-teller.” Extending her upraised palm, a small pearl took shape in the center. “Take it. Take it and see how it was that you were made.”

The part within which had been Aradia stretched out fingers and took the goddess’ offering.

Upon the rocks in the midst of a shallow stream did the curly-haired maiden stand, long spear held loose but ready with its sharpened tip aimed towards the waters washing over and between bare toes delighting at their cool caress. Dangling from above, the covering greenery of a mighty willow offered concealing shadows from the crescent moon slowly rising over the forest, for she did not need its light by which to see.

She had ears, she had nostrils, and she had her father’s heritage expanding both beyond the capacities of any mortal.

Her mother and brother would be wroth over her slipping away from the campsite without waking them, but they needed their rest. And by morning she would have a breakfast of fish and fowl awaiting their hungry stomachs. Apollo would relent immediately as he was ever ravenous, but even her mother Leto would forgive once overcome by the scent of such fire-kissed bounty.

First for the fish, impaled by slender wooden rod and affixed blade, and then the fowl, felled by arrows sent streaking forth from the golden bow now nestled amidst the wild roots of her chosen shelter. The fishing spear she had made herself from branch and knife, the bow was offered as a gift from a giant whose singular eye surprisingly sought to avoid seeing her father’s wrath visited upon him after stumbling across her camp in woods now distant.

The resonate croaking of surrounding frogs, the chirping of crickets, the burbles and bubbling of the stream as it wended over and past stone and rock, each filled the senses as they searched for the disturbances which would herald her prey.

Far above a streak of light crossed the sky, a meteor leaving its brushed stroke of brightness behind - and all was silent.

A single mother owl off in distant trees hooted warning, however just the once before she too fell quiet.

Apprehension filled the maiden, and on stealthy feet she slipped back onto the mossy earth closer to the tree. Returning quiver to her back and bow to her hand she knelt, an arrow nocked against the string. For while she thrilled at the hunt, her family in turn was ever hunted by those sent forth by a goddess who would oft rage at her divine spouse’s many indiscretions.

Through the foliage a light flickered, passing behind and between solid trunk and thick bush, its path steady and solid unlike the bobbing and weaving of any will-o-wisp.

And also far, far brighter.

Wincing at a brightness soon shining more painfully than the sun, she was forced to turn her face away. Legs wanted to run, to leap and bound like a fawn from a wolf’s charge, but she had met her father once and had felt his power - felt the thrumming under her skin. What approached was something similar - if not stronger still.

And from one like this there would be no escape.

A voice, echoing as if bouncing off the sky, resounded in her ears.

“You are called Artemis.”

Minding manners her mother had despaired she’d ever learn, the maiden replied. “I am, Lord.”

“Then you are the one I seek.”

The brilliance faded and in its place upon the rippling surface of the stream stood the form of a man. Gold-woven hair hung in a long braid before a shoulder left bare by an ivory-colored and exomis-styled tunic. Eyes of the same gold as the bound locks pierced shadows to illuminate where she crouched behind upraised and tangled roots.

“Lord?” Instinct screamed to flee, but there was something about him, something that pulled at her father’s heritage.

Like a moth to a bonfire’s flame.

“I have need of you, child of Zeus.”

“What could I possibly offer to one such as you?”

“You are a daughter of god and mortal, yours is the only pattern which may succeed.”

“Succeed, Lord? At what?”

“At bearing what must be born: a child who may do what I cannot. And be what I can never be.”

As puzzlement became comprehension, fear widened eyes and the arrow aimed for the stranger’s heart.

He simply laughed at the sight. And she knew then her weapon - as wondrous a gift of magic and craft as it was - could never offer him harm.

“Did my father send you?” she asked. “Or are you here in fulfillment of Hera’s vengeance?”

“Neither. Such paltry squabbles concern me not, though it may affect the choice I now give unto you.”

“I do not understand.”

“Willingly accept that which shall be and you, your brother, and indeed your mother too shall be granted power enough to ascend to Olympus. You all carry the capacity: you and your brother directly from your father’s seed, and your mother also from having safely borne each of you. Rise to the vaunted table of the gods, sip of the sweetest ambrosia, and join your father’s side. With this the scorned wife of the Lord of Thunderbolts shall dare trouble you no more.”

The maiden stared as a lost deer caught by the first light of morning. All her life they had been on the run, moving from town to town, forever hiding who they were. And yet monsters kept finding them. Some they had to flee, others Artemis had put down with many arrows.

But always were there more.

“And,” she heard herself asking, “if I do not accept? Will you let me go?”

“No.” The one word, spoken in the same tone as all the rest, sent shivers of rising terror where once her father’s power had brought excitement. “Choose, and choose now.”

With trembling hands she lowered the bow. “For the sake of my family I will not struggle.”

In a blink he stood not upon the trickling stream but upon the stone besides her. Removing the weapon from her hand he placed it aside, golden eyes aglow and peering past her hunter’s leathers into patterns beyond comprehension.

When he stepped even closer and planted one hand firmly against her back, she dared ask one more question. “Can you at least tell me your name?”

Again his voice echoed off sky and distant mountain. “I am the Fire that precedes the Dawn. I am he who erases the shadows within the darkest of waters. I am Helel, the Bringer of Light, and the First of all Creation. And by my Name I swear to you that when I return to take my child, should you interfere with her destiny I shall burn this world to ash and scatter its dust amongst the stars.”

So saying his hand flared with a brightness to blind not just eyes but every sense she possessed and more. Plunging those flames into the depths of her womb he set everything within afire.

Even as she screamed she heard him say one last thing:

“For that is a kinder fate than what awaits should I fail.”

Hunched over knees pressed against marble floor, I was clutching my stomach against a terrible pain that had never been mine.

From behind and still sitting on the chilled marble slab, Artemis spoke - her voice cool though not without sympathy.

“Now you know. He gave no choice. None. And after he stole you from my arms, once the weeping ceased I swore to never again be touched by a male - be they mortal or god. For they always take whatever their power allows. Always. As my father to my mother, and yours to me. Remember this, my daughter.”

Behind us came the piercing sound of trumpets, and Artemis got to her feet. “The salpinges bring the Ecclesia to order. I must go. The crowd may decide to call upon you to answer questions and address us. Until then you may wander nearby but do not stray lest you become difficult to find.”

Unable to stand just yet I could only watch her walk away.

She paused before she got too far and looked back to where I huddled on the stones in front of the bench. “For what it may be worth: from everything I have seen or heard of your feats and exploits - both in this life and your first - I could not be any more proud. Even should I have no right to be. You are beautiful and you are brave, braver than I ever was or dared. And I have never believed that the sins of our fathers should also be placed upon the daughters.”

With a sad yet resolute nod the goddess turned and went up the hill.

Chapter 17 - Modes

The roar of the crowd and trumpets from the columned arena atop the hill was suddenly silent. A hemisphere of crackling lightning had been raised which prevented any further sounds escaping.

Zeus and the other deific entities wished privacy for their discussions.

The sting from the pain of Aradia’s conception faded but an ache remained. Having managed to get myself onto the bench, I was still folded over while staring off towards a horizon that didn’t really exist.

All sense of self had spiraled in mad confusion. Was I the blind-from-seeing-too-much Aradia? The kindly dweeb software developer Justin? I thought I’d properly become Jordan, the girl-who-was-also-an-angel, but after returning from Hell it felt like she was just a small piece of a much larger force.

A force by the Name of Amariel.

Fingers tensed with lingering anger from Isaiah’s - or really, Azrael’s - slicing across perceptions that had promised to show all. My spirit ached to experience that glory - and to glean the answers to the towering pile of questions sages have pondered throughout time immemorial. And then all would be made clear.

Except that couldn’t be the case, right?

Lucifer would have been able to do the same - and yet obviously it had never brought him peace. He still Fell.

And the asshole had gone on to rape my - Aradia’s - mother. Not physically but energetically, and frankly what he did could be considered worse. His power had rampaged across everything Artemis had been, leaving no refuge and no sanctuary within that his essence hadn’t smeared itself across. Not in her heart, not in her mind, not in her spirit.

He’d taken it all to bind the pieces needed to forge Aradia’s spark.

My spark.

Amariel’s spark.

This was too much to take.

Over a shoulder came a sound not unlike a horse exhaling. “What’s with the sour face, babe?”

Startled, my head spun around - and as it did the red and gold braid whipped all the way around to smack me back in the face before landing against my chest. A being stood nearby with a human body, but the head, well, the head was that of a sharp-toothed and darkly-furred beast. The muzzle at first impression was like a weird cross between a coyote and a camel, but such a comparison wasn’t quite right. As for the body, he was well-muscled as revealed by the utter lack of a shirt underneath a wide obsidian choker fit loosely around the thick neck. A similar-style skirt that was neither leather nor metal yet somehow both hung from his waist to right above the knees, and ties from the black leather sandals wended their way up the ankles.

In spirit I'd only seen him at a distance, but the voice I’d heard before from the lips of a possessed archaeologist.

My legs slid off the bench and I smoothed out the tunic’s skirt. “You’re Set.”

“And you’re…well that’s the question of the day, ain’t it?”

“You reading my mind?”

I must have glared because the god took a step back, waving clawed-fingers defensively. “Nah. No need to get panties in a wad. I’m just your friendly desert god with an insight that surprises even himself sometimes.” His grin, toothy as it was, did nothing to reassure. “If you’re having some kind of existential what-the-fuck, that’s cool. But the dimwits in the circle-jerk are frothing at the mouths over you either being their oh-spank-me savior or a harpy’s curse who’ll screw ‘em over like a President loose in the Playboy Mansion.”

“They and everyone else. Shouldn’t you be back there with them?”

“Privilege of bein’ a powerful god. Multi-location. I can be the center of all the parties at once, if you know what I mean.” Massive fuzzy eyebrows waggled suggestively.

Normally I’d have smiled at such a jest. But not now. “No offense, but I’m not finding that all that funny.”

One eyebrow remained raised. “And here I’d heard you had a sense of humor. A rare thing for a Bene-Elohim.”

“Usually do. Let’s just say today has been a bit rough and leave it at that.”

“Hmm.” With tall legs the god stepped over the bench to plonk down besides me, though he was careful to leave a gap between us. “I’d always thought Gabriel as being the only angelic who could manage a proper laugh.”

“Mine’s probably from her bad influence.”

“Ha. Awesome influence, you mean. Gabriel’s a hoot. Gotta say it though, the rest of your father’s family has bungholes so tight they don’t even shit diamonds - their holier-than-thou poop is straight from a neutron star. Or it would be if the galaxy-sized broomsticks ever dislodged.”

The big-snouted god may have had a point. From all the memories I’d gotten, Gabriel and Raphael were the gentler exceptions that proved the rule.

“Your mom’s side now,” he added, “Those toga-wearing chumps put the ‘fun’ in dysfunction almost as well as us crazed Kemetics. Shit, just look at how they’re treatin’ you.”

“Me?”

He shrugged. “Chief Grandpa Thunderfart over there set up this shin-dig. Invited everybody, blowhards and dickhards alike. And here you sit - his own granddaughter - waiting on all those idiots to figure out how to cajole or threaten you into doing what they want.”

“Is that what they’re planning?”

“Not all, but yeah. Rude, ain’t it? And if I had to guess, Mother Artemis just shared with you how much a dick dear old Dad was to her.”

That earned him another hard look, though he didn’t flinch.

“Not saying he wasn’t,” continued the ancient deity. “But the timing is convenient, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Is it?

“If they’re trying to recruit you away from your angelic family ties, that’d be one heck of a nudge in that direction.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. Except Artemis hadn’t known I was coming. Growing more wary of the muscle-bound god who despite the gap still sat uncomfortably close, I said, “Hey, if you’re here, what about Zap? I mean, Heru. Well crud, no. I mean Zap.”

“The pup? I told him I’d deal with this on my own, but Erica insisted he tag along.” Set rolled widely-placed eyes and muttered, “He’s the one who needs baby-sitting, not me.”

“He been okay?”

Sticking out a broad tongue Set sprayed a messy raspberry. Fortunately it wasn’t aimed at me. “Dude’s fine. Other than being stuck in cramped quarters with a total blanket-hog like myself.”

“How’s he handling it? The whole,” I waved a hand, “incarnate-of-a-god thing.”

“That your deal? You havin’ issues with the modes?”

“Modes?”

“Modes, masks, shards, aspects - plenty of names for the same bullshit. All so idiots can ignore the truth.”

Realizing my fingers were fiddling with the brush-like ends of the braid, I dropped hands to my lap. “Truth? What truth?”

“That egos are crap.”

“Not sure that’s helpful.”

He snorted. “Sure it is. You started off mortal, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you’ve had those crazy-ass fumble-mumble dreams. You know ‘em. Where you ain’t who you are when awake and shit, and you’re stuck stumbling through a story written by a child whose breakfast cheerios got laced with ‘shrooms.”

“So?”

“Was the you in those dreams really you or not?”

That caught me.

Because of course I’d had dreams like that, even doing things I’d never normally do.

And reality had certainly become more dreamlike of late. Hell had been one continual bad nightmare, but even the realm I’d just created was just that: another dream. One in which I was Queen, for it was mine. On earth I was Jordan, except when I needed to be more Amariel.

But the whole time my spirit was the same and not something separate. Instead the conscious part - the ego, I guess - was (to mix metaphors here) the character the player put on to fit in with the unfolding story they found themselves in.

The spirit was the player. Always had been, and always would be.

My sense of “I” was entirely misplaced.

“Modes,” I said, tilting my head at the still-grinning god. “Modes of operation, you mean. Identities to fit the situation.”

A claw reached out as if to poke my chest but halted as a warning flare of light blossomed across my skin as the muscles underneath prepared to jump. “Yet,” he said feigning innocence with regards to his awkwardly immobile hand, “they’re all you. Every stupefying and fucked up one of ‘em.”

“So why is it all so confusing?”

To distract the roaming digits he used them to scratch at his muzzle instead. “Because egos. They fight integration tooth and claw. For some of us that’s no big deal - we’re flexible.” His rather large bicep popped up and down for emphasis. “But some dumbasses - you know, broomstick squads - they got this stupid need for categories and order. Screws things up and gets in the way of doing what’s gotta be done.”

Categories and order. In other words, judgment. Man, Isaiah was so hosed - though he wasn’t the worst case I’d seen so far. “What if the identities really don’t agree on things? Like fundamentally.”

He leaned back and stared into the bright sky. “That ain’t good. Means one of ‘em cracked.”

“Cracked?”

“Cracked, broke, or as the winged dipsticks put it, ‘Fell’. Damaged goods those, and dangerous. Out of sync with their pattern they’ll go nuts - like a squirrel on meth chanting ‘Winter is Coming’ while building forts out of toothbrushes and hockey pucks. Only three ways to deal with ‘em. Pull a psychobabble miracle out of a rabbit is one. The second is for a stronger shard to absorb the broke-ass one and fix it.” He paused.

“And the third?”

“Burn the fucker who snapped until they fuck no more.”

“Oh.”

One of Set’s ears twitched and he looked back towards the arena. “Debate’s over. You’re up.” He stood and stretched arms with a toothy yawn that produced a tongue much longer than it should have been. “And hey, whatever happens - don’t be a dumbshit like Heru’s lost aspects. Don’t forget what’s important.”

“Which is?”

“Be the you that you gotta be. And if they don’t like it, fuck ‘em.”

I too got to my feet. “Set?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

He stood and bowed, sweeping the well-muscled arm wide. “What can I say, I’m awesome. After this shindig is done boring us to tears, how ‘bout we get out of here and go do something a lot more fun. Sky’s the limit!” The muzzle’s grin somehow managed to become both ridiculous and lecherous. It really was a talent.

“Not today.”

“Aww c’mon. You know you can’t turn all this down. And I promise to be a perfect gentleman.” He flexed and this time made his pectorals dance. “Tomorrow?”

“Promises, promises. And that’s also a no, I’ll be busy. Writing the final paper for a class.”

“You serious? Well, shit. What about the day after that?”

The comical glint in his eye finally got to me, and I may have cracked a smile. “Hair needs a massage, you know how it is.”

“Gotta love a relaxed hair-job. Stylish. The one after?”

“Queen duties. Need to inspect the bramble-harvest. Can’t let the lightberries wither on the vines.”

“Those sound tasty. Gonna send me some?”

“Nope.”

“Crushing. How ‘bout when those barrels are full? I know this great place in Soho…”

By the time we reached the stadium we’d covered the next six months and then some.

And Set had still not given up.

When I first met Kami Kurohoshi (via a video conference which had turned into a stroll through an astral construct), the recognition of the true spirit behind his gaze had knocked free a memory belonging to both Gabriel and Aradia. In that recollection all the greater beings - gods, dragons, fae, and elementals - had gathered at Aradia’s request in a massive conclave.

To discuss and debate the threatening plague of chaos spawned by the Grigori and Nephelim, all of the invitees had filled a gigantic spiritual stadium with the splendor of their pantheons, each in full display of regalia and power. Even the architecture had altered from section to section, each bursting with the style and colors of their true homes. When shifting attention from area to area the entire arena had changed in response to where one looked: Odin and the Aesir took council within high beamed halls of torchlight and mead, Ra and the Kemetics were bethroned between sigil-covered monoliths of gold and obsidian, towering dragons lurked within the deepest of caves behind stalactites and stalagmites, ocean waves continually swelled pools of mighty water elementals, tornadoes swirled madly over those of the air, and volcanic bonfires spat sulfuric smoke to mark the region of fire. Witnessing such grandeur was absolutely epic.

What Set and I walked into now was downright sad in comparison.

Small clumps of culturally-garbed individuals huddled in clusters amidst an arena holding a singular form of marble, arches, and columns. Instead of residing within a multitude of primal elemental glory, men and women all had gathered upon uniform marble benches. At the highest point protruded a boxed area where a toga-wearing man with wild curly hair, long scraggly grey beard, and an impressive set of pectorals sat on a wide and gleaming throne flanked by but a handful of other white cloth wearing individuals.

The other gods and deities, wearing outfits nowhere near as opulent or magnificent as I’d remembered, bunched together with their own - a handful of representatives each for the different pantheons. Many groups only had one or maybe two members with silver astral cords leading off to bodies still residing on Earth, but then again only a quarter of their numbers had volunteered for the final battles against the corrupted Grigori. The rest had retreated from the world to prevent becoming stuck in human form lifetime after lifetime. Interestingly the Hindu contingent had the most silver strands slipping off behind their many-colored outfits of flowers, silks, beads, and gold. One such among them, appearing as a bare-chested and well-muscled young man whose medium-dark skin glittered as if coated with gold, didn’t even watch as I entered - with arms crossed he glared straight ahead and if I’d had to guess the lad was seriously sulking.

Obviously whatever debates had been going on had not been in his favor.

He wasn’t the only member with faces being none too happy. Several fae wearing their best silk fineries glowered with unrestrained and direct hostility at my approach. Standing between them was the plate-armored and former Champion of the Queen, Sir Gwydion. Unlike the others hovering near him the Champion regarded me with neutral expression, the Sidhe’s unusually older yet barely-wrinkled visage was on display as he wasn’t wearing his helm. He even raised a hand (which had apparently healed from our previous encounter) in distant greeting and acknowledgment.

I returned the gesture and nodded to him. He’d fought at the command of his queen and lost, though I too had suffered from our engagement. We had been (and could still be) enemies but he’d never been anything but polite. Unless of course you think someone trying to stab you with a sword forged of raw chaos was rude.

But hey, that was war.

Set moved to the center and lowest point so everyone could look down at us. I began to feel like a Roman gladiator about to be judged whether I should live or die. Which did cause another quick look to see if there were both Greek and Roman versions of those pantheons lurking in the wings - it would have been amusing to see both Zeus and Jupiter in one place having a staring contest. No such luck though, only the Greek aspects were present. Honestly I’m not entirely sure how that would have worked. Would Jupiter and Zeus have spoken simultaneously? Or would their own aspect-separated egos collide in insufferable conflict.

I’d pay money to watch that.

The Egyptian god with the head of an undefinable beast standing beside me interrupted the thought as he spread arms wide and addressed the crowd.

“Yo! I’ve had all the pomposity bullcrap I can deal with for one day. Y’all know who she is, she’s here, ask yer shit and let’s get back to chillin’. Or fighting. Whichever.”

From the stands came a shout from the hawk-headed god standing next to Ra. “Set! You insult our guest!” Heru was wearing the same outfit he’d donned for the fae party we’d once attended together: namely a linen skirt under a bare chest (gods must really like showing off their pectoral muscles) with bronze and blue metal layering atop the cloth, and a matching wide choker around the neck upon which rested an Eye of Horus. Sorry, Eye of Heru.

Set blinked with disingenuous surprise. “Oh?” Giving me a side-eye he asked, “You feeling insulted, gorgeous-tits?”

The crowd gasped but before they could shout outrage I quickly responded though not in an all-that-friendly tone. “That one strayed pretty close to the line, stumpy.” I held up thumb and forefinger to show just how close. Or how small he was under that skirt. Take your pick.

Long ears flapped - don’t ask how - and he shrugged. “I hate boundaries.”

Heru summoned a burning staff of power and took aim as if to fire a bolt at his cousin so after deliberately stepping out of any potential line of fire (and therefore away from the lecherous god) I shouted for all to hear.

“Everyone! Many of those gathered here are likely burning through their reserves to maintain these projections so let’s be brief. I’ve come today out of friendship with the Elder Drathonix. Whether or not I take insult by Set’s impropriety or by the lack of appropriate invitation from my own spiritual relatives is besides the point and would serve only as unneeded distraction from matters of true import.” I threw Zeus a quick narrowed glare. The smile which grew at the corners of Artemis’ lips made the verbal jab worthwhile, even if dark clouds gathered above the bearded guy’s head. Though the storm quickly calmed as a more calculated expression replaced the momentary fury, and the god began to stroke the curly white hairs dangling below his chin as if reconsidering something.

Returning attention to the general crowd I continued. “I propose we carry on. Set stated you have questions. Ask them, and I’ll consider whether to answer.”

Drathonix’s baritone filled the arena. The great dragon rested with folded wings upon a plateau wide enough for a modest home. “We have but one question, Queen Amariel.”

I turned to face the dragon. “Then by all means ask it, ancient one.”

Steam escaped wide nostrils. “Such is not mine to speak.” The dragon pointed a long claw towards Zeus.

Behind the storm-god’s head blueish-white electricity sparked, forming a jagged halo of lightning. Leaning forward to place bearded chin upon a fist that could break mountains, Zeus’ voice boomed out.

“Granddaughter! I bid you welcome to Olympus and to my exalted domain. Change has at last arrived and it is up to us to seize the opportunities presented - and you, here and now, have a chance to correct the imbalances imposed upon us. At the crux of the previous crisis the Priestess Siabh asked our acquiescence to the greater need and allow Gaia her time to heal. We all have done as requested, leaving us cut from manifestation and forced to walk within mortal shells for our feet to ever touch the earth. But Gaia has healed - indeed she has prospered and her long-locked bounty now is freed! Only one barrier to our restoration and the return of our world to her natural state remains.” He paused as sky-blue eyes flashing echoes of the sparks surrounding him pierced the distance between us. “You know of it.”

With steady stance and hands clasped behind my back I met that stare. “The Fourth Seal. And what do you ask of me, Cloud-Gatherer?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Should that barrier in accordance with the prophecies of John of Patmos be broken, the Host of Heaven threatens to descend and scour all so they may purge that which they consider unholy: the progeny of angel and man. Yet while the Seal stands our people and others remain in bondage. We have learned that you are indisputably without ties to Elohim and His Throne. And so we ask you, granddaughter, would you plant your banner alongside ours to shatter this unnatural cage? Come! Join cause with us, stand at your mother’s side, and as goddess and Champion of Olympus defend our world against the wrath of Heaven that we may all at long last be free! What say you?”

Everyone went still and breathlessly they awaited my answer.

As did I.

Chapter 18 - Judgments

The silence dragged on and I remained unsure how to reply. There had been times in the past when words would slip unbidden from my lips, channeled from the higher angelic self, but no words arrived now.

It was up to me, whoever I may be in this moment, to step up.

Letting light fill wings and eyes I spoke.

“You ask a question as if the answer would be a simple matter. But you well know the complexities. Tell me then: as Azrael himself has stated he will not bring down that which he has wrought, how therefore in this scenario is the Fourth Seal to reach collapse?”

Zeus extended a broad hand. “We believe you possess the means to do so. And if need be the energies harnessed by Imhotep’s engine can assist if not succeed directly.”

I considered. “Tilting against Azrael’s exercise of his truest Purpose is a tall order. In such a scenario how many human lives would be lost by such a collision of power?”

The god didn’t flinch. “Lives, yes - but their spirits would go on. And yet for every year that passes the spirits of deities, elementals, and fae trapped within the binding’s shackles wither - losing piece by piece that which they are. While those who remain outside grow further distant, their anchors to Gaia fading unto dust. All are caught and wounded in this imbalance.”

“At what risk then to Creation?” I asked. “That Michael and the Host fear the Nephelim so should give this gathering pause. Released from incarnation, do we understand how powerful they may yet be? I too as Aradia was of the Nephelim. Should we not fear that they may become as I? For I tell you that I have yet to touch the limits of my full potential, a truth which should frighten you as much as it does me.”

Heru struck the brilliant staff against marble and the resulting thunder rolled across the arena. “You are more than a mere Nephelim, Amariel. Your mother is a demi-goddess and your father is the First of Heaven. And only within Callas Soren’s ritual were you transfigured in the Light. Do you suggest such a path may be traveled by the sons and daughters of the Grigori? Their Order is comprised of neither Seraphim nor Kerubim, they reach not the upper levels of abstraction.”

I turned to the god whose eyes danced with the sun and moon. “And yet the Nephelim were considered such a threat that the loss of this world was acceptable to the Host if it ensured their obliteration. Even now I am given to understand that the heavenly council intends to meet to discuss current events and may require my testimony. Should they too ask me questions, shall I answer that the beings of power of this world intend to increase the risk to all Creation and break the peace to which all agreed? Consider carefully, lords and ladies. And remember that even Lucifer required the aid of the loyal Host to defeat Samael’s Rebellion. Though my gifts may touch upon such lofty perches, alone I would be incapable of standing against such a force.”

That reminder settled upon them and many looked down or away. Heru however did not.

“Aradia,” he said slowly, “was a seeress without equal. The paths of the future unfolded in her sight though at cost of great pain. Only through her vision did we survive the conflict which was. Does the veil that lies across what may yet come also part to your sight? What have you seen, Amariel-who-was-Aradia?”

Irritation that he’d ask such a question here in front of everyone hit sharp. Heru had been a friend, as had his incarnate Zap. But to ask that now? Was he trying to make me look a fool? He’d known I’d only tasted glimpses of things that had come true.

Staring at him though I saw to the truth. Behind the dual-sourced eyes of the god lay those of a young man, one who had once bounced as a hawk in joy upon my balcony and who had only returned to humanity to help when I had needed it most.

That boy was still there - and he was clinging to the hope that I had already found a path to a safe future for everyone.

Except I hadn’t. In fact I deliberately hadn’t even tried.

“Heru,” I said, though I tried to speak more to the young man within him, “Many are the warnings I have been given about reaching beyond what control I have acquired. Already this night it took the aid of another to prevent catastrophe. Some day I may do as you ask, but not now. And not here.”

Disappointment succumbed to a stoic nod and the god hammered the staff a second time. “My question is answered. But that of the Thunderer On High remains. Will you give answer, my lady? Will you join our pantheons, free those from bondage, and defend us?”

This time the mouth gave reply without thought or warning as the Light decided to flash outward, and in the brightness washing over all within the stadium’s walls were no shadows to be found.

“Love unto the Defended; love unto the Destroyed. The blade which upholds the one must fall upon the other. Which shall be received is not the decision of the one who loves.”

As the bright illumination faded Set chuckled into the arena’s stunned silence. “Well folks,” he said, “That’s it, we’re done here.”

“I agree,” announced Heru. With a third impact of the staff he and the rest of the Kemetics disappeared. Group by group so did the others, though the bare-chested god with the fancier lei of flowers gave me one heck of a stink-eye before also fading out.

Guess he wasn’t too thrilled about whatever had just been decided. I stood there blinking while wrestling with understanding it myself, becoming lost enough that Drathonix needed to nudge my feathers with a wingtip to get my attention.

“Are you coming, Queen Amariel?”

Only then did I realize what had just happened.

I’d just submitted my very own entry for the cosmic-dessert-of-the-month contest.

Whoa.

As soon as Kami woke up in his wheelchair I immediately asked him, “Did you get what you wanted?”

I’d been standing at his side waiting for his eyes to open. I again wore grass-stained shorts and shirt because I hadn’t thought to clean them in the process of re-manifestation.

And right now I really didn’t feel like wearing a dress.

Despite the influx of energy from Doc and the recharge from the earth, Kami rubbed the corner of a tired eye as he answered. “Yes. Did you?”

“I don’t know. They all didn’t stay to debate further. Why not?”

With a grunt he pulled the needle from his arm. “Your statement quite succinctly settled the issue.” He handed the tube to Doc who, after looking between us, rose to his feet and stumbled off towards a server holding a tray filled with more food. Tanya and Isong had already stepped away to give the two of us space.

“I don’t get it.”

He paused and his face regained strict disciplined focus. “Each will have heard your words different, according to who and what they are. But your spirit made a promise. One they cannot ignore.”

“Wait, you mean what I think I said isn’t what they heard?”

“It is best to communicate truth in the language of the listener.”

“Dammit, Kami. That doesn’t help.”

“Then let me put it this way: when you figure out who you are willing to fight for, you’ll understand.”

I shook my head which did nothing to stop the growing headache. “So what did they decide?”

“For now they will make no move against the pyramids or the Seal.”

“Good. One problem down. A couple more to go.”

The information broker didn’t waste a beat. “What else is going on? Perhaps I can help.”

“Not unless you know where Soren stashed the Book of Raziel.”

That perked his interest. “I would have hoped it safely buried again. You need it?”

“Maybe. It could help solve a mystery - or heck, all of them.” Pausing, I realized that there were many questions he hadn’t asked. Which considering the last time we’d spoken was before I got blasted to Hell was suspicious. “Hey, how good are your sources at the DPA?”

The man leaned back with a wry smile. “I shall offer no comment.”

“Then you know who Soren actually was.”

“I do.” His expression returned to the neutral and purely analytical. He was hiding something.

Crap. He’d known that much way before. He actually may have known before our defense of the pyramid - and had kept it from me.

As much as the guy had assisted and even put himself on the line out there, he really was a master schemer. Using his daughter he had played me tonight, twice even, to get what he wanted. Yeah I agreed with his goals on both counts, but still. I was starting to not like it much.

Except getting angry about it (despite the threatening emotional swell filling my chest) wasn’t going to help. Whatever information I could get out of him however could.

“Any thoughts on where it is?”

“Unfortunately, no. Soren’s use of portals made tracking his movements difficult, if not impossible, without knowing which cities to canvas.”

So much for that then. “What about Sariel? He tried to have Isaiah killed again today. Speaking of Isaiah, where is he?” I looked around. The pergolas had been reassembled, and many of the factions had already departed - including the Chinese delegation. I spotted Isaiah (and Jim) on the path leading to the portal where he was speaking to a short Asian man with a remarkably long whitish beard and otherwise shaved head. Despite the look reminding heavily of ZZ-Top, the man’s tuxedo was perfectly conservative and therefore colorless. Flanking him were a number of younger men similarly dressed, except one had a white cummerbund imprinted with the emblem from the flag of South Korea: the red and blue Taegeuk (think yin/yang but without the extra dots) and the four surrounding black trigrams. “Who’s he talking to?”

“The dragon Gangcheori. As for why, you’ll have to ask your friend - although I can venture a guess.”

“Given how everyone loves keeping secrets from me, why don’t you tell me your so-called guess and I won’t tip your chair over,” I said smiling sweetly.

Okay, I tried to smile sweetly.

He ignored the threat. “Gangcheori’s incarnate - Kim Ji-hoon - holds controlling stakes in numerous multi-national enterprises. Mr. Cohen’s recent lawsuit is against one such subsidiary. Are you sure Sariel was behind the attempt?”

I saw where he was going. “Pretty sure. The bullet I examined invoked Sariel’s name in its enchantment. Packed a lot more punch than the caliber merited.”

He considered then nodded. “Assassination is not Mr. Kim’s style.”

“Oh? Then what is?”

“Subterfuge, manipulation, domination, lawfare, and most of all - patience. It has served him well.”

The conversation between Isaiah and Mr. Kim must have ended as they both bowed to the other. Mr. Kim and his entourage continued towards the presumed exit, and my two escorts began walking back towards the rest of us.

“You know what, Kami?” I said before Isaiah got too close. “I’ve had more than my fill of those tactics for one evening - especially patience. If you’ve got anything useful on Sariel, email it to me, leave a voicemail, or send a courier with a briefcase locked to their wrist. Whatever floats your boat.” With a quick wave goodbye to Isong and Tanya, I marched towards Isaiah and Jim who stopped walking upon seeing me approach.

“We done?” asked Isaiah as I got near, raising his bushy eyebrows.

“Yeah.”

Jim glanced at my empty hands and frowned. “Where’s your dress?”

I stopped. “Dammit. If all the stupid agencies are watching that house in L.A., me walking out like this would be weird wouldn’t it?”

Isaiah ventured a smile. “It would.”

“Fine,” I growled. “I’ll swap outfits when we go through the portal.”

Jim had a puzzled look. “How’re you going to change clothes if you don’t have the dress?”

“Dude, just shut up and walk.” I kept going to where the Majordomo was waiting in front of the hazy shimmer floating in the air marking the portal’s boundaries. The overly tall representative of our host opened his mouth to spout whatever the usual pleasantries were for departing guests, but upon seeing my expression (which was in full bitch-mode, I freely admit) he merely bowed before silently gesturing to the portal.

I nodded and stepped through, although I was tempted to see if I couldn’t just teleport myself and avoid the imprecision of their spell. Given the stomach-lurching transition I really should have tried on my own. Granted the lingering between spaces did give plenty of time to build the intent to arrive with dress, sandaled heels, jewelry, hair, and makeup all in place just as they’d been when we’d gone through the first time.

With the dagger-points of the heels clicking loudly in the marbled foyer we’d departed from, we made our way back outside. Someone from Kami’s crew must have phoned ahead as Saito had already pulled the limo around and was waiting.

After Isaiah and I had both gotten into the back, I heard Jim ask Saito, “Are those two even human?”

Saito paused before answering.

“Not sure about him, but she certainly isn’t.”

For some reason hearing it said like that hurt.

When Saito asked where we wanted to go, Isaiah leaned forward and recited the address of a hotel further up the 101 freeway at the Channel Islands Harbor.

“Not your house?” I asked.

Our shared row’s leather creaked as he settled back into the seat. “It’s not safe. Grabbed what I needed earlier, everything is in the trunk.”

Wow. He had actually admitted to being in danger. Miracles never cease. Though after all that had happened tonight, it didn’t seem right to tease him about it.

So of course I did anyway. “Glad you’re finally seeing the light.”

“Ha ha. Cute.”

“Speaking of illumination, I guess I overdid it back there. Your ‘ghost’ was pretty upset.”

He removed the glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “She was right to be. You almost fried not just the house but potentially Mexico City.”

“Not just the city, Boss.” Tracy sat across from us with legs folded and hands clasped over a knee. Every time we passed a particularly bright highway light she would fade out before regaining clarity. Her voice however remained clear. “If she’d kept that up it’d have threatened the planet. If not the entire solar system. Or worse.”

I tried to protest. “All I did-”

“Was manifest all six wings,” she interrupted, “and start charging up enough energy to power most of the sun.”

“Oh.”

She leaned forward. “’Oh’? That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself? You stupid, dangerous-”

“Tracy.” Isaiah tried to cut her off.

Yet she continued, and if my face had been in reach she might have slapped it. “-juvenile, foolhardy Seraph! There are rules for a reason! If I’d ever pulled such a stunt, my first boss would have-”

“Mirael!” Isaiah barked. “Enough!”

In surprise she shut up. Not that I was still paying any attention. Because through Gabriel’s memories I knew that name.

And along with that recognition came a lot more.

A broken helm lay across her palms.

Once shining gold and polished platinum with a rising plume proudly sharing all the colors of sunrise, the remaining fragments were tarnished and cleaved by an opponent’s mighty blows and billowing flames. Red stains smeared both inside and out, only the metal where a blade had then cleft it through remained gleaming. For the name from which it had been forged was lost.

Zuhael.

Never again would her song of the brilliant dawn be raised with great gladness, never again would her voice fill the hearts of all with the promise of a new day, never again would she raise their spirits to loftier heights and inspire them to fill that shining morning with their notes even more wondrous than any before discovered.

“How many?” Gabriel asked, voice barely above a whisper, to the angel who had delivered the wagon bearing fragments of armor and shards of blades, piled high with the remnants of so many shattered dreams. A stream of equally full wheeled vessels followed, their line stretching across the city and out the towering gate that had granted them entry.

“One thousand wagons, milady. From this morning alone.”

“And the Rebels? Do they abide the agreement?”

“Aye, milady. Our finders retrieve all, be they from theirs or ours.”

“They all are ours, Jael.” With a kiss to the helm’s cold surface and a single tear of falling diamond, Gabriel’s wings lifted her high enough to gently return the helm atop the multitude. “Every last one.”

Chastened, the angel in simple armor of white and gold lowered his head. “Yes, milady.”

“Deliver them unto the place prepared. Deliver them unto remembrance.”

Taking up the chains before the mighty wagons of jeweled steel, his feathers beat once then again and wheels taller than the archangel herself creaked as all rolled forward across the perfect pavement of Heaven.

Behind her hovered two angels more: one covered in obsidian and gold with a face hidden behind metal of its own, and the other in undecorated silk of brilliant white matching the centers of his wings, for black had trimmed the feather’s edges.

“Why?” asked the one in armor. “Why preserve these pieces? They are of no further use.”

Gabriel turned. “To ask such reveals you would not understand the answer, Camael.”

As the warrior remained silent to the admonishment, the angel in white ventured to speak. “The First requests your presence by the gate. For more has arrived than your wagons.”

“If the bringer of light has need of me, thereto shall I go.”

Above the trail of wagons flew the trio, alighting upon the surface once more on the stones of a wide courtyard resting behind the Eastern Gate. Away from the wagons’ slow procession were ten rows of ten angels each, all armored in burnished reds and the deepest of blacks.

Except unlike the warrior guards they carried no weapons, and all were upon knees with hands and wings bound tightly by golden ropes forged of the light and will of Lucifer who hovered before them. One knelt in front of the rest, with forehead placed upon the polished tiles before the bare feet of the Morningstar. Many wounds had been visited upon the prisoners, each hastily bound with leather and cloth leaking drops of blood to stain the ground.

The First’s eyes and wings flared with fierce intensity, a severe blazing focus Gabriel had only witnessed when her progenitor’s sight attempted to pierce the potentials of what may come - or when he himself wrestled with some inner conflict.

Here and now, Gabriel perceived he burned with both.

“Camael, Gabriel, Azrael,” said Lucifer without preamble. “The war council has assigned you three a task.”

“Which is, Lord?” asked Azrael, his face aglow with purest devotion for the superior of his House.

Pointing to the kneeling angels who counted one-hundred and one, Lucifer gave declaration.“Determine the fate of these prisoners who approached and surrendered to our guards. And carry out their sentence.”

Gabriel’s heart lurched into her throat. “I recuse myself. I cannot-”

“Not accepted.” Those unmatched burning eyes turned upon her. “You will vote and you will act. By command of Elohim shall this be done.”

“Let Him choose another.”

“He will not. By His word are you chosen, Gabriel. As is Camael.”

Azrael’s feathers rustled. “What of me, Lord? Did He not mention me?”

Lucifer gazed upon the one whom others had termed his ‘Seneschal’, for unless dispatched on errand Azrael was ever by his side. “Elohim bade me select the third.”

“I am honored, Lord.” Azrael bowed low his head. “May we question the prisoners prior to our verdict?”

“You may.”

Azrael immediately turned to the one in gold and crimson who knelt before the Lightbringer. “Your name. What is it?”

Blood-red bangs fell across the immaculate contours of her cheeks as she lifted them to give answer. “I am Mirael, Lord.”

“Of what House? And are you the leader of these?” Azrael gestured towards the others.

“I am their Captain, Lord. We are of the Mashschitim.”

Flames the same color as her hair flared in Camael’s hand as within its grip appeared his tall and fiery blade. “They are Destroyers. Of Samael’s cursed House. They die.” The warrior took a step forward.

“No!” With a burst of wind, Gabriel rushed to place herself between sword and prisoners. “They surrendered!”

Azrael too stepped between flaming sword and bound angels. “One vote of death, one of life. But my questions are not yet satisfied.”

“Ask them all you wish,” said Camael. “Know however that my vote shall not be swayed.”

Lucifer, watching all with eyes burning upon past, present, and future, said nothing.

Azrael acknowledged the warrior of crimson fire with a nod and moved to stand over the bound captain. “Your squadron bleeds. Yet you were not captured in combat by those loyal to the Host of Elohim. Speak, then. Whose weapons inflicted these wounds?”

“By those who rebel, Lord. We fought to cross their lines in our march to the City.”

Camael grunted. “So they betrayed their own.”

Azrael ignored this. “Was there a change of heart?”

“No, Lord.”

“Explain.”

“Our assignment was to guard the Edge for the turn of a single Day within our cherished City. But no replacement squad arrived. Long did we wait - a hundred times the allotted span - and so a scout was sent to discover what had transpired. It was he who learned of Lord Samael’s betrayal - for our Commander bade him return with orders for all to join the siege.”

“Yet you did not.”

“There was disagreement within our unit, Lord. Many would have obeyed the command. We are all who remain.”

Azrael considered this, then asked, “And for what do you hope, Mirael of the Mashchitim? The Seat of Destruction lies shattered in the Halls of the Most High.”

Her head rose higher. “If we cannot continue to gift our words in service to the Throne, then let us perish still loyal to its glory. By their hands or yours.”

Camael lifted the fiery sword. “They die with honor.”

Gabriel gasped, spreading arms to protect those behind. “Die? They are innocent!” Searching Azrael’s face, she said, “You know this to be true.”

But Azrael stepped away, troubled at the responsibility of decision and the pitfalls of incorrect verdict. “They are Destroyers. It is their nature - the same root leading their leader to desecrate all fills them each. To let them live risks repeat of folly already suffered.” Pursuing certainty, Azrael called out to his mentor. “Lucifer! Have you no illumination to offer? Your eyes catch the myriad and shifting possibilities, what guidance is seen therein?”

Standing without expression, the First spoke. “Seek not my vision, beloved brother. Instead seek the truth inherent in thyself.”

Gabriel watched as Azrael began to shake, a tremendous surge building within him. In his eyes she saw him question.

In his heart she felt him answer.

Truth?

What exactly is truth?

How is it discovered?

And how can one separate that which is flawed from that which is merited - how is Truth pulled free of Falsehood?

Except he had done so before. When the First had cast forth the Light and forged the fundament upon which they stood, he too had acted. Sword and Will had cut across that Light, dividing it into that Which Is and that Which Is Not.

That had been Worthy.

That had been Good.

But that act required placing restraint upon the infinite. It required discernment. It required boundaries.

For only in the finite could meaning be found.

Only in the finite could it be Created.

Whereas Lucifer’s eyes glowed solid, so now did Azrael’s fill with a twilight shine all their own. With his whole being atremble, the Source of All moved across his wings. Blackened edging expanded across each feather to swallow the white and empty canvas with the depths of night’s following shades.

And upon this tapestry spilled shining dots of understanding - each a tiny gap offering but a glimpse to a higher realm.

A place of Perfection. A place of Peace. A place of Knowing.

And few were they who would ever tread the paths beyond that veil.

That feeling, that separation, that comprehension of perception spilled forth to encompass the one-hundred and one. Newborn Purpose overwhelmed each in turn, bringing with it the repairing of their patterns and the healing of their wounds. In so doing were their wings also transformed.

As he gazed upon those whose feathers now mirrored his own, Azrael found himself speaking. His proclamation cracked like volcanic thunder across stones and walls to roll from Gate to Gate and fill the entire City.

Indeed it resonated directly upon the Throne.

“Judgment is rendered. To its Seat these are given.”

As the echoes faded did Lucifer smile and beam with pride upon the newest Archangel. Though Gabriel’s finer senses caught the slightest taste of one additional emotion:

Sorrow.

Chapter 19 - Elephants

“You remember me.”

“Yes.”

Tracy and Isaiah were staring at each other. The flicker of passing headlights fell across Isaiah, his expression haunted by more than just the ghost sitting across from him. With my own vision still lingering upon a different scene entirely, I stayed quiet.

“Since when?”

“A shield to the spine shoved it loose.”

“Sorry, Boss.”

His face tightened then fell slack. Tilting back against the seat’s headrest his eyes closed. “Explain to her what she needs to know.”

A still angry glance shifted to me. “Shouldn’t she have learned all this as Aradia? I thought you taught her.”

Meeting her glare I spoke up. “Azrael only taught Aradia how to limit her power so she wouldn’t flare into a pile of ash on the rug. She never was an angel.”

“I see.” Swallowing annoyance, Tracy sat up. “I’m not sure where to even start.”

I shrugged. “I’d say to start with the beginning but you might take that literally. And I think I’ve got the ‘Let There Be Light’ part down well enough.”

She may not have laughed but my friend chuckled. I counted it as a win.

“You joke but that’s exactly the problem,” the former Maschitim said in all seriousness. “Alright, let’s go with some basics of manifestation. The wings are representative of reaching to higher levels - they are channels to the Above.”

I nodded. “I’ve figured that much out.”

Her scowl threatened a return. “The physical realm, while its perceptions are more solid, is in its own way delicate. The balance of spirit and material must be maintained. Or else.”

“Or else what?”

“It could collapse.”

I stared. “You know, you’d think something as important as that would be provided in like an ‘Angels For Dummies’ book for us noobs.”

Rubbing his forehead, Isaiah said, “Lesser angels created by Elohim come into existence with all the knowledge necessary for their role.”

Tracy nodded. “You’re the first greater angel to emerge on their own since before the First War. Look,” she said, leaning forward again with elbows on knees, “If you manifest too much of your full self here the space can’t take it. The Seal that Azrael and Gabriel put into place prevents the rest of us from doing it at all, but before that no higher angel that I know of dared go beyond the first two wings in energy.” She paused. “How much do you remember of the Grigori conflict?”

“I remember how it ended. It was a wet mess.”

“But do you really believe Camael and the Powers weren’t strong enough on their own to deal with a single proto-Archon, a handful of fallen Grigori, and a crew of warped and limited spirits all without breaking a sweat? Not hardly. The difficulty was with where they were: here on Earth in the physical. It’s like showing up to a medieval battle armed only with a thousand-megaton warhead.”

“That’d just wipe out everything.” I began to see the problem.

“Precisely. Which would only leave the country you were hoping to conquer as nothing but radioactive wasteland. Along with the rest of the continent.”

Pieces fell into place. It explained why the Grigori believed they’d had a chance to hold against the Host. They knew the Host could never use its full power against them - not without destroying the world.

Or maybe all of physical Creation.

Except Michael was indeed willing to take out the planet. And Gabriel had desperately sought a way to thread the haystack’s needle before the Host blew up the entire barn it sat within.

Aradia had provided her the solution: recruit the pantheons of other spirits who could more freely use their might within the rules. They had even recruited Nephelim to fight against their own, keeping all the damage local and within bounds so it would not threaten the balance.

Meanwhile Aradia was able to channel as much light as she could against that darkness safely - because she herself was a natural limiter. She was the perfect fusebox in the chain. Too much and she’d pop.

Except I wasn’t her anymore. All the safety controls were gone.

Sweat dripped across my forehead and I felt sick.

Sitting back Tracy placed ghostly hands on the seat before making her point more clear and thereby even worse.

“Amariel,” she said, her fierce eyes drilling holes directly through my skull, “if you truly have the potential to match Helel then if you aren’t careful you could trigger a new Big Bang.”

Oh.

Gulp.

Isaiah found a car-sick bag in the back of the limo’s mini-bar and offered it to me. After a moment’s green hesitation I turned it down.

I was determined not to waste those crazy-expensive appetizers.

Isaiah paid for the room with cash up front. The hotel clerk didn’t bat an eye at the wad of bills as he was too busy pretending not to stare at my chest and hips every chance he got.

Yeah, the pimply-faced surfer kid was young.

We had bid Saito farewell in the parking lot next to the marina. There were more white boats tied up to the docks than cars, but maybe it being the middle of December had something to do with that.

I mean sure it was cold, but by my messed-up standards it was downright cozy.

Upon reaching our third-floor room, Jim wouldn’t let us enter as he insisted on going in first to peer behind all the doors and into all the closets.

“It’s clear,” he announced from the bedroom.

“I could have told you that,” I grumbled as we walked in, Isaiah pulling a wheeled suitcase with a matching smaller one stacked atop along. He had also gotten the suite next door - one that had connecting doors between them if both sides unlocked. I hadn’t asked for my own room, but after checking in he’d handed over the key along with my passport and the other two cards he’d kept for me in a pocket.

The key was one of those electronic card ones so it fit right in with the rest.

Inside was a small kitchen and living room nestled before sliding doors and a balcony that looked westward towards the ocean. There were other buildings between us and the open water, but the sea was visible beyond due to our height. A waxing moon hovered over the waves, its reflection on the waves shimmering as its own lighthouse beam aiming back towards shore.

Jim returned from the bedroom. “Jordan, want me to check your room too?”

“No need. On this floor there’s only an older couple at the far end. No one is in the rooms directly below ours either.”

The bodyguard turned to Isaiah. “How the heck does she know all that?”

My friend was at the sink, having removed glasses so he could wash his face. After toweling off he blinked in my direction. “She probably sees their souls through the walls.”

I shrugged. “It’s a talent.”

Jim stared. “You’re serious.”

“Yep.”

“Jesus.” Shaking his head, he took off his coat revealing the Glock pressed against the white dress shirt. “I really need to hit the can.” He went into the bathroom and the door closed with a loud thunk.

That left me and Isaiah standing in the room amidst a weirdly awkward silence.

“So, uh, what’s the plan?” I asked, moving closer to the sliding doors so I could get a better view of the outside scenery.

“Do you think they’ll make another attempt tonight?”

I leaned a shoulder against the glass. “What, here at the hotel? I thought you paid cash.”

“I doubt Sariel will track me using a hacker. And while I do have an amulet to protect against being found with magic, the fact remains that you’re here.”

“So?”

“I grilled Diego about how Sariel found out about the team being in Egypt; he said you stand out like the sun on the spirit-side wherever you go.”

“Oh. That.”

From the reflection in the window I saw him put the towel on the counter. “Yes, that.”

“Want me to leave?”

“No. After what I witnessed tonight my money would be placed on you should they be stupid enough to try anything.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Grinning, he bent down to pull out a bottle of water from the well-stocked mini-fridge. “And if you screw up, I’m sure my spirit will yell at you in the hereafter. Provided you don’t nuke that too.”

“Dude, seriously?”

He shrugged. “Could happen.”

“Ugh.”

“I’ve got calls for work I need to make. You should turn in.”

“What time is it?”

“Quarter past nine. Which means it’s after midnight for you.”

“I’m good. I can go without sleep when needed - and I’m not sure I’d wake up here if I did.”

After a thirsty swallow from the bottle, he lowered it before wiping his chin. “Can you port back to this hotel?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Worst case I can pop by the storage units again. But without Khan next to me I’ll likely slip away. Happens even if he’s there sometimes.”

“I’ll ask Tracy to wake you up before you do.”

“You mean Mirael.”

Pipes in the walls chattered from Jim flushing in the other room. The ruckus switched to a squeak as the bodyguard turned on the faucet to wash his hands.

Isaiah pointed the bottle at the closed door. “That’s a conversation for another time.”

Putting my back to the glass I faced him directly. “You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Postponing any discussion of the numerous lurking elephants.”

The door clicked open and Jim came back out.

Isaiah put on his I’m-going-to-be-stubborn-about-this face. “Go get some sleep.”

With a foot I pushed off the window. “Fine. Wake me up if any assassins get past the arsenal here.”

The poor bodyguard blinked as I walked past. “Arsenal?”

“Sorry, Jim. That wasn’t fair. Though if I were you I’d charge this guy more.”

“What? Why?”

Pausing in the hallway outside the room I looked back over a shoulder. With a wicked grin at Isaiah I said, “Because of the elephants.”

My friend laughed and the door clunked shut.

Shuffling the few feet to the entrance of my own suite I went on in.

First up was using one of the room’s phones to leave a message for Penelope to give me a call when she woke up. I needed to hear that my kitty was okay. Sleeping without him was going to suck, which it of course always did. She’d better have been giving him good snugs during the night or I’d tell her to let Jenna take care of him instead.

Not that I really worried. Every report I’d received was that my little guy had been thoroughly spoiled by the residents of the cottage before I’d returned from the so-not-a-vacation to places both icy and set aflame. He’d even gained some weight, though I’d promised him I wouldn’t tell the vet.

But I still wanted to hear he was alright.

That done and despite the unexpected allure of the large bed and the invitingly thick hotel-beige comforter, I decided a shower was absolutely required before climbing under any sheets. Walking into the bathroom I flipped the light-switch and smiled at what awaited me in there.

Isaiah had gotten me a room with a hot tub.

Hallelujah.

After filling the basin and climbing in, I lay there with arms floating amidst the bubbles while the brain (because it’s stupid) decided to recap the day.

Let’s see:

During the previous night’s sleep I’d met with an archangel and created a new realm for some otherwise lost-in-the-cosmos fae, gaining a queenship for myself in the process.

I’d then passed my martial arts final by not engaging any actual martial skills, only to follow that with blackmailing (or, depending on how you looked at it, Faustian bargaining) my way out of any further exams.

Learning to go invisible to physical detectors, I’d flown from New Hampshire to Miami (oops) and then to North Carolina to have an awkward discussion with a friend about first one book and then another.

Teleporting to Los Angeles I’d again been interrogated (well, not really - more like talked to) by the DPA about an attempted murder. Of my best friend. By the same asshole Grigori no less that had tried to nuke the Middle East and whose attempt to do so had kept me from being at my niece’s side in order to prevent her death.

After that I figured out how to make my own clothes (useful!) and attended an event in Mexico where we were surrounded by dragons from all over the globe eating the best finger-foods outrageous gobs of money could buy.

I then had to fight one of them (because of course I did) and everyone learned that my deceased niece’s former roommate was carrying the potential future of an entire species of spirits inside her. Though this was only after I nearly destroyed a city. Or continent or whatever.

Then it was off to Olympus itself (shiny columns!) where I had the distinct non-pleasure of finding out that my soul was the product of brutal spiritual rape. And after a brief conversation with an Egyptian deity of chaos and war (who oh-so-wanted to get into my shorts), I went off to basically threaten all the gods and spiritual powers of the world to not go do anything stupid. I think.

Which when you put it in context with what I myself had come close to doing only an hour prior was practically comical.

To top everything off I then relived the moment that the Seat of Judgment within the Temple of the Most High was metaphorically forged from the ruins of the Seat of Destruction and how my friend’s spirit got stuck being the one to sit upon it. And as a result of that he’d been assigned to lead the leftover angelic Destroyers. Oh, and the captain of those said Destroyers just so happened to be my friend’s legal assistant, also deceased due to a previously failed assassination attempt against him.

Good grief. No wonder I was so tired.

With a groan I got out of the tub, toweled off, threw on some manifested pajamas (like I said, useful!) and crawled into bed.

I was dreaming.

It was one of those frustrating sequences where a part of you realizes you’re stuck inside the dream, but the you acting within is helpless to fight against the narrative tide no matter how much you tried.

Because before me was a shut wooden warehouse door. That warehouse. By the river.

The one I really didn’t want opened. Not again.

A five-eyed demon sneered while standing on turf soggy with mud, water, and more as what was inside had leaked out to form small pools of crimson amidst the weeds.

With a shout from the demon the high door snapped upwards.

This time that which lay behind exploded out to smother me with cold, wet, and dead.

Throat screeching, I thrashed under the onslaught of limbs, torsos, and oh god - the heads. Each with eyes staring accusingly even while being tossed madly aside as I scrambled on desperate hands and feet to get atop the ever growing pile.

Many of them had wings.

Struggling to stand, a spear was used as leverage by impaling itself on things squishy and raw.

And still the pyramid underneath grew.

All around a vast emptiness stretched except it wasn’t empty. For there were pyramids in every direction, all built not with stone but broken flesh. Upon their tops those I’d left behind struggled vainly to keep their footing, their cries reaching for me while out of a smoke and fire choked sky bodies continued to fall.

Twitch. Hank. Vance and the twins. Horatio and Veronica. Captain Erglyk. Even the towering Balus was no match for the flood of raining death.

All were swallowed. All were silenced.

While the rain of bloody gore kept falling.

Hands grabbed an ankle. Maddalena’s face peered past entrails, her smeared lips forming words she no longer had lungs to empower.

Yet I understood all the same.

“I…still…believe…”

I screamed and kept on screaming.

When clarity returned I was hovering on my back over the carpet of the room two floors below with Mirael’s helmeted head poking down through the ceiling.

“You okay?”

Yes, I did mean Mirael. She’d popped wings in the middle of our struggle after she’d tried to wake me up by touching a shoulder. I’d panicked, pinning her hand with one of my own while the other - already bursting with energy - had lunged for her throat. At which point she’d instantly donned full armor, grabbed the attacking forearm, and tried to hold me down to the bed.

Except I’d focused so purely on her that I’d slipped fully spirit-side and went right through it instead, pulling her with me as I did.

We had thrashed about between floors until I’d woken up enough to realize she wasn’t actually an armored-clad demon trying to do, uhm, unsavory things.

“Shit. Yeah.”

Folding away the pair of wings, I attuned to the physical world and the resulting gravity pulled my purple pajamas-wearing butt that last foot to the floor. At least I hadn’t gone for four (or dear lord all six) of the feathered things.

She came down the rest of the way and began rubbing under her chin at a spot the helm had offered no protection. “That’s a mean elbow you got there.”

“I’m so, so sorry.” Pulling knees up I plonked forehead against them a couple times. “I should have warned you. I get these nightmares sometimes and I wake up rough.”

After landing she removed the helm then tilted her neck from side to side as if to work out a kink. “Bad dreams? Really?”

“Snippets of Gabriel’s past sometimes - not usually the pleasant ones. But lately they’re more the subconscious running rampant all on its own.” I suppressed a quick shake that tried to run up the spine.

“I heard you escaped Hell.”

“Yeah.”

“Tough times down there?”

A shrug was offered as answer.

“You talk to anyone about it?”

“I’ve got a therapist.” I ran a hand over the beige hotel carpet. It felt not entirely unlike rubber.

“Sure, but have you actually told them anything?”

“What makes you think I haven’t?”

She chuckled, causing her wings to spread before they settled again. “Because if you’re like the boss you won’t want to share. Not until you think you’ve worked it all out in your head first.”

“I’m not like him that way.”

“You sure?” She smiled. “It’s one of the traits he picked up from Lucifer. The whole noble martyr thing. Unless you’re claiming not to be stubborn?”

“Uh, I plead the Fifth.”

“Nice try. That excuse won’t fly before the Council. You want my opinion? You both need to talk. And you’re probably the only one he’ll open up to.”

“He won’t with you?”

She snorted. “As Tracy, he blames himself for my death. As Mirael, he’s my CO - and Azrael has given rather violent orders in the past.”

“You remember all of it?”

“I do now. Integration was…interesting. But I had help from the Boss’ other half outside the Seal. Although I’d classify his methodology as doing things the hard way.”

“And you’re okay with it? With, you know, the violence?”

“Oh yes.” She grinned, and it wasn’t a human expression. It was the exposed teeth of a pure predator, of someone willing and able to slaughter her way past any obstacle to achieve her required ends. The smile of an absolute killer - not one without conscience, but one whose determination of right and wrong was total and beyond fanatical.

With the utter obliteration of ‘wrong’ being entirely her goal.

This time I couldn’t help it and shivered, but not from fear.

From recognition.

I had felt such certainties upon Balus’ shoulder as we strode across the battlefield visiting death and destruction to all who had dared opposed us.

Misunderstanding my reaction she shifted and Tracy’s kinder face took over. “C’mon, let’s get you back upstairs. Need me to get the boss to let you back into your room?”

Flexing my back I let re-emerged wings lift me up. “Nah, I’ve got a better idea. Gimme a hand?”

Shrugging she held one out and I took it, shifting perceptions until she became more “real’” than the room around us. “Right. Going up!”

Like riding an elevator without the actual elevator we slid back through the ceiling to my room. Once clear I let go and feet sank into more of that weirdly thick (but not really) carpet.

“Thanks.” Besides the bed where the comforter had balled itself into a mess, sat a clock. Six a.m. Remarkably with the time difference that meant I’d actually slept in.

“Neat trick,” she said. “Think you can do it without my help?”

Good question. “Possible. Though being able to focus on you helped against accidentally clashing with stuff along the way.” Various teleportation mishap tables from the ol’ gaming days came to mind, such as getting limbs stuck in walls that sort of thing. “Could be handy.”

She nodded. “Just be mindful of spirit-wards if you’re trying to be sneaky.”

“Sneaky? Stealth is definitely not my strong suit.” I grinned.

Tracy (she’d shifted back to blouse and skirt and put wings away) didn’t see the humor. “Sounds like a skill in need of development.”

“Eh, what I need right now is some tea.” The kitchenette, equipped with a coffee maker and the makings thereof, was disappointing on the tea selections. Rummaging through the cupboards all I found was a few foil packets which had quite rudely been decaffeinated.

I mean, seriously. What’s the point of those?

Hearing voices in the next room I felt hope. Opening the connecting door on my side and pushing in theirs, I walked out into Isaiah’s suite. “You guys have any proper tea? My room doesn’t.”

Isaiah was standing at the kitchen counter holding a steaming mug of freshly brewed coffee. Jim was in the living room using the small complementary ironing board and electric iron to press his slacks.

They froze.

Both were wearing boxers. Isaiah also had on one of those sleeveless white undershirts.

But that was it.

About then is when I remembered that I’d chosen to sleep in my favorite pajamas, manifested from memory to duplicate what Jenna had picked out for my rather lacking wardrobe. Which just so happened to be a loosely worn purple satin camisole top complete with spaghetti straps and a matching pair of itty-bitty pj shorts.

Hey, in their defense they were super comfy.

Chapter 20 - Gelt

Not knowing the proper etiquette of barging into a room full of half-naked men while looking like a questionably-legal model straight from the pages of a Victoria's Secret catalog, I had a split second to weigh options.

Option One: immediate retreat. This had the advantage of allowing time for recovery and for everyone to get fully dressed - potentially with never mentioning this again. The disadvantage however was the implicit acknowledgment of everyone’s embarrassment regarding the situation. Or at the very least my own.

Option Two was therefore deployed with all haste.

“G’morning boys,” I declared, marching directly into the kitchen. “My room is entirely out of tea.” After a quick look in the first empty cupboard I added, “Hey Jim, don’t burn those trousers.”

The bodyguard cursed and jerked the hot iron off his pants. If there was any damage, I didn’t see as I was too busy checking the next few cupboards.

“Good morning,” Isaiah said finally while continuing to stand exactly as he’d been. Which is to say rather woodenly directly behind the kitchen’s island counter facing the room. He sipped his coffee. “I think I saw some Earl Grey on the lower shelf to my right.”

“Ooh fantastic.” Flicking my head to get the long hair out of the way (as I hadn’t even put it into a ponytail yet) I crouched down next to Isaiah’s hairy legs to open the indicated cabinet. “Found it, thanks. Hooray! It’s not decaf!” I grabbed the entire box.

From the bedroom Isaiah’s phone began to ring. He made no movement to go answer.

Standing again I took a step back. “You gonna get that?”

He stared straight ahead. “I believe I need more coffee before dealing with the world.” It kept ringing and he just took another sip from the cup.

“Hey, is that a menorah?” A small silver multi-candlestick was resting on the counter. Six thin blue candles in a row had burned all the way to nubs and a seventh, on the higher stand in the middle, had also burned down. Underneath the candles the metal curved elegantly around a single Star of David at the center. “Wait - I knew it was coming, but did Hanukkah start already? Last year it was in the middle of the month.”

“Rabbi Kirov didn’t mention it? Hanukkah started last Wednesday.”

“Oh. He actually left campus the day before on personal business. He probably said something in his email attachment regarding our final paper, but uh, come to think of it I never read the whole thing.”

“Hmm. Should we be concerned for your grades this semester?”

“Nah.”

“Don’t tell me you have Senior-itis already.”

“Geeze, it’s not like getting a high school diploma really matters anymore.” Stepping past I started back to my room. “I’m gonna go have some tea, freshen up, and then we can figure out the day. Deal?”

Only Isaiah replied. “Deal.” Jim was too busy holding up a pants-leg to see if the triangular burn at the ankle was really all that visible against the dark fabric.

Yeah, it totally was.

Pulling the door shut behind I leaned against it and heard Jim ask in a strangled and confused voice, “Wait, she’s still in school?”

Isaiah didn’t answer. Instead he said, “I better go check who that was.” The floor shook as he jogged to the bedroom.

And no, I’m not going to describe why he couldn’t move from his spot against the counter while I was in there.

Though his boxers were a pretty shade of blue.

The cup of hot tea was good, it didn’t have too much bergamot. It was however missing having a fluffy kitty’s belly to rub while drinking. Which reminded me.

I grabbed the phone and called the school again. This time Penelope answered.

“Look,” she said really sounding really annoyed, “if this is another scam for erectile dysfunction solutions I’m going to hunt you down and do things to you with a jar of pickles you will regret forever!”

“Uh, hi Penelope?”

“Jordan! Hi! Oh, I’m sorry. My phone didn’t recognize your number.”

“That’s because I’m calling from a hotel. Didn’t you get my message?”

“Message, yep! But I was waiting until at least past seven out there to not wake you up if you were sleeping.”

“Thanks. How’s my kitty?”

“Khan’s doing great! Though I had an argument with Jenna over his breakfast. She brought back smoked salmon from the cafeteria and wanted to give it to him, along with some bacon. You know, to make up for you not being here again.”

“Oh my god, he’s not going to want to eat his regular kitty food!”

“I know, right? That’s what I told her! We had to compromise.”

“Compromise?”

“We’re spreading it out over each of his meals today. My room is a natural refrigerator so it’ll be fine.”

“Good lord.”

“Don’t worry! He’s gonna burn off those extra calories. Cantrel agreed to let him hang out more in the common room provided we clean his litter there morning and night. Everyone’s busy preparing for exams and he’s a great study-break buddy. They’ll have him chasing his toy mice for hours.”

When you thought about it, that was quite a shift. When I’d gone to the school it had been a fierce fight to let me bring him. I’d won but our headmistress, Mrs. Carson, had expressed extreme disapproval over the precedent and I’d had to promise quite vociferously to always keep him in my room. “Really? Is Cantrel going to get away with that?”

“Okay, you didn’t hear this from me, but apparently when you were, you know, missing for that week? Security cameras caught Mrs. Carson sneaking into your room to play with him.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “That’s my boy!”

“We tried to keep it quiet, but girls in the other cottages are way jealous. Some are even making excuses to study over here.”

“That’s hilarious. Well I don’t know when I’ll be back, maybe later today depending - so don’t promise the little guy too much. He’ll be all sad if some of this goes away when I return.”

“Oh! About that!”

“About what?”

“When you’re gonna get back. I got an email from August. He says to give you a message.”

My heart skipped a beat. Did August find something? “Go ahead. What is it?”

“He says - and I quote - ‘Tell Jordan that she most definitely needs some Sufganiyot from the Kadosh Cafe. The best batches are in the evening during Hanukkah. They’ll be amazing! Time’s running out on the holiday, so she and Isaiah better not miss it!’”

“The Kadosh Cafe?”

“I did some research online and I’m pretty sure I found it. Sufganiyot are like these jelly donuts, by the way.”

“Huh. So where is it?”

She told me and my stomach dropped a few inches. “Shit. That’s uh…that’s kinda far. I don’t know if Isaiah can go. He’s working this mega-sized legal case.”

“Is this message from August in some kind of code? Or is he really telling you both to get your butts out there?”

“I think he means it. And can’t tell us why.”

“Well, that’s silly. He could have encrypted the email.”

“Not really. He doesn’t want an archangel yelling at him.”

“You serious?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“I better go. Thanks Penelope. You may need to take care of Khan for a few more days. So give my buddy a good scritching, apologize to him for me, and don’t let Jenna or anyone else completely spoil his diet.”

“Sure thing! And good luck with whatever it is.”

“Thanks.”

We hung up, and I swallowed the last bit of the tea. Double-checking that I was again decent (jeans, bra, t-shirt, tennis-shoes, hair-braided - good to go!) I knocked on the connecting door before opening it a crack. “Hey guys?”

Isaiah’s voice came from somewhere in the living room. “Come on in.”

I did so. Their shower was running and as Jim wasn’t in the room I made a reasonable assumption that he was the one scrubbing up. Isaiah was on the couch, still in the white undershirt but at least he had some pants on this time.

He also had an expression of total shell-shock.

“You okay?” I asked, moving over to sit next to him. “Something happen?”

Still staring towards the widescreen T.V. (which wasn’t even turned on), he pointed to the phone on the coffee table that rested next to an empty cup. “I got a call.”

“I noticed. Is it bad?”

“The case.” He swallowed and blinked.

“Uh oh. The judge rule against you or something? Is it hosed?” Wait, it was too early for the courts to be open. It wasn’t even eight o’clock yet.

My friend shook his head. “No. We just settled. For everything I demanded.” A smile began to creep onto his face. “I…I just personally made over thirty million dollars.”

What I did next was, uhm, kinda girly. Because I squealed and threw arms around him in a huge hug. “Holy shit! Congratulations!”

Still flabbergasted he sat there awkwardly returning the embrace until I pulled back.

“Wait,” I said, putting two and two together. “Was this because of last night?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Remembering how he’d claimed the case was his alone with nothing to do with the angel weirdness, I asked, “Are you okay with that?”

He focused in on what I’d meant. “By stopping your overload, I saved the patriarch of the entire chaebol group that owns the company we’re suing.”

“But you wanted the win to be yours. Not Azrael’s.”

“I’m not sure it wasn’t. I think he wanted you to go all the way.”

“I would have-”

He interjected. “You would have possibly destroyed the world if not more. But not the souls. If you’d managed to perceive the universe in full, then Azrael could have taken that vision and rendered final Judgment. On everything.” As that sank in he added quietly, “It would have fulfilled his burden’s purpose, all at once. His greatest desire.”

“But you stopped it. You forced me out of it.”

“Did I? Could I have stopped him if he was well and truly intent on something?”

“I don’t know.”

“Neither do I.”

We sat there in silence, each of us contemplating our own internal horrors.

“Though,” he finally said, “it wasn’t Azrael who subtly reminded Mr. Kim that he owed me a life debt before we left.”

“You didn’t!”

A sly grin spread across his lips. “I did.”

“Hey, Mirael helped.”

He chuckled. “One way or the other she’s on my payroll, right? Still goes to me.”

“You gonna give her a bonus?”

“Ask at the next review period. Which for angels is what, another hundred thousand years?”

“Dang. Remind me not to work for you.”

“So noted.”

We both laughed, though there was an edge of hysteria to the merriment. Neither of us wanted to admit how freaked out we were on how close we came to doing something truly horrible.

“Dude,” I said as the borderline-uncomfortable laughter trailed off. “You got a passport?”

He grew suspicious. “Yes. Why?”

I gave him a mischievous smile of my own. “I happen to have it on good authority that there’s a place we absolutely must go to celebrate.”

“Where?”

“Happy Hanukkah, my friend. You and I are going to Jerusalem!”