21
Above, the dark clouds rumbled in an ominous chorus. Below, the dry plains of Megiddo stretched out into the hazy distance. The ruins of an ancient city rested on top of the plateau, its crumbled walls and low rock formations rose out of the earth like gravestones. Flanked by Abaddon, Marc strode toward the trio of angels waiting on the old plaza.
“You’re late,” Michael said, his golden hair flaring in the wind.
“I’m fighting a war,” Marc said nonchalantly. “You know what that does to one’s schedule.”
They glared at each other. Michael’s hand rested on the pommel of his sword. Out here, there was no risk of collateral damage, and the archangel wasn’t exactly known for his patience.
“Now is not the time for petty squabbles,” the angel in the middle said, his hazel wings tucked neatly behind his back.
It was a long time since Marc had seen Gabriel. The archangel and voice of God rarely left the Heavens these days. He was tall and lean, with braided cinnamon hair cascading past his shoulders. He wore a simple linen robe and his halo glittered like a wreath of stars above his head.
“Why are we here?” Marc said. “You know that I’m not going to hand Amanda over.”
“I’m afraid we’re already past that. Things have changed in the last earthly rotation,” Gabriel said gravely.
“Oh, yeah? The Gates of Heaven will continue to be closed. A shocking surprise.”
“You misunderstand, Marcellixis,” the third angel said, leaning lightly on her staff.
With the wind gently tugging at her lush green feathers and platinum blonde hair, and her flowy orange dress fluttering around her thighs, the Archangel of Healing was a sight to behold. Out of all the archangels, Raphael was the only one that Marc couldn’t bring himself to despise.
“The gates have already opened,” Raphael continued, locking her sky-blue eyes on him. “But Amanda wasn’t the reason.”
Marc crossed his arms. “And… what exactly was the reason?”
“There have been sightings.”
“Sightings?”
Raphael’s gaze lingered on Marc for a moment. She bit her lip, and a wrinkle appeared between her dark eyebrows.
“With the blood of the fallen, you watered the parched soil of the Bone Desert,” Raphael finally said. “You awoke something.”
“How do you know any of this?”
“The Heavens aren’t blind.”
“Well, if you’re going to tell me how I got played in the whole Uriel business–”
Gabriel held up his hand. “I’ve heard you’re a clever king and quite the strategist, but you’re trying to play chess against someone who just wants to smash the board.”
“I’m aware.”
“Are you really?” Michael said. “You rushed into the battle trying to call her bluff, but all she wanted was death. She wanted the ground’s thirst quenched. She wanted you to find Uriel. And you handed all of it to her on a silver platter.”
“If you’ve just come to gloat, then I believe this meeting is over.”
“We’re just trying to make you understand what you’re dealing with so that you don’t make the same mistakes in the future,” Gabriel said. “We can’t have that if we’re going to work together.”
“Are you offering me an alliance?” Marc scoffed.
“A tree drank the blood of the unclean and went into bloom. A lamb with seven horns and seven eyes sprung from its roots.”
“What you’re suggesting is ridiculous,” Marc said. “Why would that lamb be in Hell?”
“The lamb represents sacrifice,” Gabriel said gravely. “The victims of the Great Flood died to make room for a new age – a clean slate – they were one of the greatest sacrifices of all time.”
Marc touched his chin and glanced at Abaddon. The angel of death examined his nails and then flicked open his lighter.
“Great stuff, but if spilling a bit of blood in a desert is all it takes to cause the apocalypse, how come Lucifer didn’t do that a long time ago?” Marc said.
“Revelation is not a prophecy,” Raphael said. “It is a series of keyholes. Turn all the locks, and the world will end. The lamb is merely one key out of many, and to find them all, the stars need to align.”
Marc narrowed his eyes. “Why are you telling me all of this now?”
“You’re the lesser of two evils,” Michael said.
Gabriel put a hand on Michael’s shoulder before turning to Marc. “We believe that, despite your recent mistakes and decadent ways, you still see the benefits of an intact world. You’re even courting a mortal from what I’ve heard.”
Marc nodded slowly. His enemy’s enemy and all that. It did make sense but at the same time…
He turned to walk away.
“Allies?” Gabriel said.
“No.”
***
Elvira shuffled out of the bathroom for the fifth time today and slumped back into the sofa. The dull light of the street lamps outside clashed with the soft blue sheen of the TV. She sighed. Another hurricane, tsunami, and school shooting. The news seemed more tragic every time they came on, but she watched them anyway like a sickening misery-addict.
At one point, she’d thought that other people’s suffering would help ease her own, but for some reason, the crushing despair in her chest just seemed to grow and grow. Elvira had been happy once upon a time. Vague memories of a distant childhood sometimes occupied her mind like a gallery of bright paintings. She’d often cry looking at them.
Idly, she flipped through the channels. Everything just felt so dreary. It was hard to pinpoint exactly when things started going downhill for her, but it had to be during junior high. She’d had friends before those years, and nobody had picked on her.
The first time Kendra gave her that dirty look, which made her feel so… less than. Perhaps that was the first stab? In the following weeks, her entire life had crumbled. It wasn’t Kendra’s or any of the other girls’ fault that Elvira's parents died in that plane crash, but they sure as hell didn’t make the loss any easier.
It was strange how long you could hold resentment toward people who wronged you. You never forgot their words or their faces. Sometimes the faces made it easier – a target that you can project your anger onto – it was better than not knowing your enemies. There were those instances as well – for Elvira more than other people.
She touched her swollen belly. The police hadn’t found anything to suggest foul play, and the doctors had called her a liar. You couldn’t possibly get this pregnant in just two weeks. Something had happened to her that day, she just knew it. Someone had done something to her –someone had defiled her.
The news came on again. The president was riding a red horse onto the docks in celebration of the Navy's new supercarrier, U.S.S. Excalibur. She sighed. Where were the bad headlines she was waiting for? The war in the Middle East. Terror. Misery. Where was the suffering?
In mild annoyance, she tossed the remote hard into the fluffy armchair. Elvira wasn’t ready to be a mother – she could hardly take care of herself, much less a crying, needy infant – but she was too far along in the pregnancy for an abortion. She could feel it kicking inside her. She didn’t want it, but her roommate had convinced her to at least look at it before settling for adoption. And that was fair enough – maybe she would see something in the child once it came out.
“Dinner is ready!” said her roommate from the kitchen.
If it weren’t for her, Elvira would probably have killed herself already. There just wasn’t anything worth living for. Somehow in Elvira’s darkest hours, that girl could still light up the room.
‘Maybe this child will give you newfound purpose,’ she had said with a warm smile on her lips.
Elvira didn’t know what she’d do without Lucy.