Angel Exalted

by C. L. Coffey

  Michael suddenly reappeared in the room. “She is safe,” he told me, before looking at Leon. “What do you need from us?”

  “I was just saying how I figure Joshua won’t be anywhere near here. He will have left the city by now.”

  “I agree,” said Veronica. “I think he knows we’re on to him, or at the very least, you suspect something is up. I think he’s gone into hiding. For all we know, he’s not even in New Orleans anymore.”

  I chewed at my lip, considering it. “I think he is still in New Orleans,” I disagreed. “I think Lucifer is arrogant enough to stay because he will get immense satisfaction at the fact he’s here and we can’t find him.”

  “That sounds like something Lucifer would do,” Cupid agreed. “He always was very prideful.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me if he was in the French Quarter,” I suggested.

  “He’s not at Bee’s,” Veronica told me. “I’ve been checking that place out regularly and I’ve not seen him coming or going.”

  “I need to call this in,” Leon said, slowly. Rather than dialing a number, he lowered the phone he was holding. “Joshua has been a good kid, but the last few months, being caught up in the various angelic goings on in this city, isn’t really going to help his case. Right now, I might be able to swing this with him being a potential victim here, but the only evidence here will come back to him eventually.”

  “Our priority is to locate Joshua and deal with Lucifer,” Michael said. “We will deal with the consequences of this afterwards,” he added.

  “I agree,” Leon nodded. “After I call this in, there will be a B.O.L.O. on Joshua’s car.”

  “A what now?” Veronica asked.

  “Be on the lookout,” I translated, absent-mindedly. I nodded. “It’s a start. You will need to make sure you look for the Hummer thing Joshua has too. Assuming that’s his car and he’s not borrowing it.” It was one thing to be close to the convent, but I doubted Lucifer would be driving around in a car that was registered to him.

  “I will request a trace on his phone, and get some contacts checking street cameras.” Leon agreed. “If he is, as you say, still in the city, he won’t be able to stay hidden for too long.”

  “The joy of the twenty-first century,” Cupid muttered. “Orwell was right.”

  I wasn’t going there. “We should leave,” I told Leon. “Be careful… And if you need us, call us.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Day Dreaming

  I sat at the bench in the synagogue’s kitchen feeling empty as the far too familiar sensation of numbness took over me. More death. More senseless killings. How many of these could a person live through before it became too much for them. The realization that I was immortal, and that figure could rise exponentially hit me. I closed my eyes, wrapping my arms around myself.

  “It is war,” Michael said softly.

  “It sucks, is what it does,” I muttered.

  He and I were the only ones there. Michael had insisted on sending Cupid and Veronica out to get us food, saying we all needed to eat, regardless of whether or not we had an appetite. I had no idea where they had gone, considering it was Christmas and I was willing to bet everything was closed.

  “War always does,” Michael agreed.

  I lowered my head to the table, resting it in the crook of my elbow. I wasn’t in the mood for discussing war or getting philosophical. I was torn between wanting to lie there and mourn or go out and walk the streets of the city trying to find Joshua so I could kick Lucifer’s butt. I had plugged my phone in to charge, borrowing Cupid’s charger, and beside me, it woke up. There was a flurry of alerts. And I sat up to read them.

  One was from Ty: he had arrived and was safe. The rest were from Sarah. They started out with wishing me a Merry Christmas, to concern about how she hadn’t heard from me. The last few were to say she was staying in my room in the convent. Zachary was looking after her. And she was safe. The last message was from Darell to say not to worry – he and his men were staying put.

  That helped me to feel a little bit better.

  Cupid and Veronica reappeared then, carrying several bags of food. I caught the name on the side of it and arched an eyebrow. “Burgers?”

  “McDonalds never closes,” Veronica shrugged. They joined me and Michael at the table and started emptying things out. When she saw me looking at the amount of food in disbelief, she shrugged. “We never took an order from you. We were being thoughtful and trying to make sure there was something you would eat.”

  “Thank you,” I mumbled. I reached for a coke and a pack of the fries. I hadn’t had an appetite, but when I started to nibble on the junk food, it seemed to appear from somewhere and I reached for one of the burgers, not really caring which it was.

  I glanced over at Michael and found him tucking into a Big Mac. I gaped at him, then burst out laughing. For some reason, this was possibly the most bizarre thing I had ever witnessed. The Archangel Michael eating a Big Mac. He even had a small dollop of sauce in the corner of his mouth. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. Tears, this time not caused by sadness or pain, streamed down my cheeks and I had to clutch at my side. The three angels stared at me in bewilderment.

  Finally, my laughter died. At the three puzzled faces watching me, I just shrugged. “It’s not even that funny,” I half explained, tucking back into my cold fries with a renewed vigor. I demolished two portions, my own Big Mac, and a box of chicken nuggets before I was done.

  “You should sleep,” Michael told me as I licked the salt off my fingers. At the roll of my eyes, he shook his head. “That was not a suggestion. Get a good night’s sleep. You have only been awake for a few hours and they have been emotionally draining. After you have replenished your energy, tomorrow, we will begin.”

  I chewed at my lip, then nodded. I was exhausted.

  I didn’t sleep for another two days this time. Instead, it was only a few hours of dreamless sleep, but it had worked wonders. After a breakfast, actually eaten close to breakfast time, Michael, Cupid and I went into one of the synagogue’s meeting rooms. The furniture had already been cleared to one side and mats laid out on the carpet.

  Cupid went straight to one of them, lying down on his front. “Go easy on me,” he requested, before closing his eyes.

  I stared at him in awe, wishing I had that ability to fall sleep like that. Blowing out a breath, I crossed my arms and turned to Michael. “I am wide awake. I’m not sure I can fall asleep like that.”

  “This does not surprise me,” Michael said. He crouched down to untie his laces, and then toed off his shoes.

  “Your level of confidence in me is astounding,” I said, dryly.

  Michael glanced over, an eyebrow arched, and then sat down on one of the mats, crossing his legs behind him. “This has nothing to do with my confidence in you,” Michael said as he gestured to the remaining mat.

  The removal of my boots was much less graceful than his. I dropped to the mat, turned a foot up towards me, and then yanked the boot off, repeating the process with the other foot, before dumping them to one side. “What does it have to do with?”

  “I wanted you to sleep well so you were no longer tired.”

  I stared blankly at him. “You want me to Dream Walk, without being asleep?”

  Michael merely nodded his head.

  “Right,” I said, drawing out the word. I leaned forward. “Michael, are you okay, or are you still suffering from some weird ‘new vessel’ aftershock?”

  “I am still not completely adjusted to the physical aspects of being in this body, however, my mind has always been my own, regardless of which vessel I am using,” Michael responded, narrowing his eyes.

  Great, I was annoying him. I sighed. “Dream Walking without dreaming?” I asked again.

  “Have you never experienced doing a menial chore and spacing out, only to find yourself daydreaming?” Michael asked me instead.

  “Yes, all the time.” A lot, recently, involving Joshua…
“But I’ve never done it while fighting anyone,” I pointed out. “Doing the dishes is one thing. Trying to maintain my defense while trying to enter Lucifer’s dreams, sounds impossible.”

  “That would be,” Michael agreed. “The recipient must be asleep. There is no getting around that as unconsciousness is the only time their mental barrier is down – regardless of how strong it is to begin with. However, it should be within your ability to clear your mind and enter a dream while you are still conscious. If we find Joshua and we are able to render him, and Lucifer, unconscious, I feel in your present emotional condition, you will not be able to succumb to sleep to be able to do what might be necessary.”

  That was fair. I wasn’t going to agree out loud because I didn’t want him thinking that I wouldn’t be able to do what was needed and then risk the whole plan getting scrapped, but annoyingly, Michael knew me well. “What are you proposing?”

  “I need for you to empty your mind.”

  My mouth fell into a thin line as disbelief took over. “Empty my mind? You want me to meditate?”

  Michael nodded. “If you can achieve a clear mind while awake, you will be able to enter another person’s conscious. It should be easier than trying to force yourself to sleep when you are not tired.”

  “It doesn’t sound that much different,” I grumbled.

  “I suppose it is not,” Michael agreed. “Only, you should have more control over entering dreams when you are awake than when you are asleep.”

  “That sounds like backwards logic if ever I heard it,” I muttered. still, I sucked in a deep breath and I crossed my legs under me. With my eyes closed, I tried to think of nothing.

  After a while, I poked an eye open and found Michael watching me, unimpressed. “Okay, how are you even supposed to empty your mind?” I asked him. “How do you think of nothing? Just thinking of thinking of nothing is thinking of something.”

  “You think too much,” Michael said.

  “That’s the problem,” I nodded, opening the other eye. “Joshua tells me all the time that I retreat into my own head. I’ve always done it. I don’t know how to stop. How do you do it?”

  “I only look for my inner peace.”

  Inner peace? Meditation? Emptying your mind?

  I could think of lesser miracles.

  I chewed at my lip, trying to think of something that would help clear my mind, which of course frustrated me further because then my mind was full of that.

  “Try picturing white,” Michael advised.

  I looked at him. “White?” I repeated. “Is that supposed to be a metaphor?”

  “Just the color,” Michael explained. “Have it so there is nothing in your mind apart from the color white.”

  White…

  Although I remained doubtful, I tried to trust in the seasoned archangel and closed my eyes once more. This time, I tried to picture white. Every time something crept into my head, I tried to paint it over with white.

  A tap on my shoulder interrupted me and I screwed my face up. “I’m not going to achieve that blank state of mind if you keep disturbing me,” I grumbled.

  “That’s enough for today,” Cupid said.

  I opened my eyes and glanced up at the scruffy haired angel. “Can’t sleep?”

  “Can’t sleep anymore,” he corrected me.

  “You have been in a trance all day,” Michael spoke up from the doorway. His shoes were back on his feet.

  I glanced out the window. It was dark. It hadn’t been that bright when we’d started, anyway, seeing as it was winter and raining. Instead I turned to a more reliable source of time and focused on my inbuilt clock. It was seven o’clock…

  In the evening.

  I’d been a trance for nearly ten hours!

  “Why didn’t I enter Cupid’s dreams?” I asked, unable to keep the sharp tone of indignation from my voice.

  “I guess you emptied your mind too much,” Cupid said. A grin slowly formed on his face. “Can’t say I ever thought I’d hear me say that about you.”

  I shot him a scathing look. His response was to offer out his hand to help me up. Begrudgingly, I accepted it. Upright, I was hit with a dizzy spell and I had to shoot a hand out to grab Cupid’s forearm to steady myself.

  “Are you all right?” Michael asked, appearing beside us.

  “Head rush,” I said, waiting for the feeling to pass. I inhaled deeply through my nose and slowly the room stopped spinning. I straightened my back, wondering why I felt so exhausted.

  “We should eat, and then you should rest,” Michael said.

  “Really?” I asked, irritated by that. “All you seem to want me to do is eat and sleep.”

  “That is because I do,” confirmed the archangel. He started walking out of the room, Cupid just behind him. I scooped up my boots and hurried after him, just in my socks. “The brain is a muscle,” Michael continued. “Just like any other muscle in your body, it needs rest and energy for it to function properly.”

  “I’m an angel,” I pointed out. “An angel in a vessel.”

  “You are an angel in a vessel who killed a human and is suffering from the guilt. Your body and soul need that food and rest to supplement the energy levels provided by the faithful,” Michael recited.

  Behind him, I was mouthing his words. I knew that. Of course I knew that. I wasn’t intentionally trying to be petulant about it either, but I had wasted a whole day trying to Dream Walk into Cupid’s dream, failed, and was about to get sent to bed after dinner like I was a young child. I was frustrated.

  In the kitchen, Veronica was emptying a small box with various cartons of Chinese food. I shuffled over to the table and sat, leaving the boots on the floor beside me. Veronica pushed a couple of the cartons and a pair of chopsticks in my direction. “Got any forks?” I asked. I had zero chopstick game when I wasn’t exhausted.

  Veronica rolled her eyes but located some silverware for me. “How did it go?” she asked, opening a carton of beef with black bean fried chow-fun. She looked between the three of us and instantly looked crestfallen. “Great,” she grumbled under her breath, jabbing her chopsticks into the food.

  “Don’t worry, I share in your disappointment,” I assured her as I opened my own carton – Szechuan style Kung Pao shrimp. The second container was egg fried rice. I was exceptionally grateful for the fork as I poured some shrimp onto it.

  “Today was not a failure,” Michael announced. He was eating some form of rice dish – with chopsticks. “Angel accomplished clearing her mind.”

  That earned Michael a scathing look. “I’m sure that wasn’t all that hard.”

  “Really?” I demanded, my fist tightening around the fork in my hand.

  “Enough!” Michael snapped. Beside me, Cupid sighed.

  “I’m suddenly not hungry,” Veronica declared, getting to her feet. Abandoning her food, she disappeared from the room.

  We sat in silence, eating. It wasn’t until I had finished and had deposited my empty cartons in the trash that I spoke. “I’m not trying to be confrontational with Veronica,” I said, quietly. “I just think everything I do is going to wind her up the wrong way. I would love nothing more than for things to go back to how they were.”

  Cupid nodded, sympathetically. “I would love the same, but the past has happened. We can’t just ignore it, and I don’t think any of us will be able to forget it. We know that none of what happened was intentional, but that damage cut deep. It left scars.”

  I glanced down at the scars around my wrists. Some scars were visible. Some scars were invisible. Learning to live with either was a challenge.

  “I know it may not feel like it, but you did well today,” Michael spoke up. “You did accomplish more than you realize, and if I may be honest, more than I expected. Rest well. We will try again tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  When in Rome…

  Whatever Michael had as his expectation level for me, I was sure he was lowering it as the days progressed.
I may have managed to completely empty my mind and reach the required level of trance that was needed, but I was unable to lift that even a fraction to allow the necessary steps to enter Cupid’s dream.

  It was day four of what felt like Groundhog Day. I had decided to try a different tactic. I wasn’t sure how it would work, seeing as I needed to completely empty my brain of everything, but today I decided to keep one thing in it: Cupid.

  I wasn’t sure how long I had been sat on the floor of the synagogue. When I emptied my mind, the concept of time went with it. It was a little worrying if I thought about it, because the only way I was coming out of these trances was through either Cupid or Michael waking me. If I were to attempt this by myself, I would be completely vulnerable to anyone attacking me. I could also stand to lose a lot of time.

  This time, when I thought about Cupid, something started to happen. At first, I thought something was entering my mind and I hurried to clear it again, but then I heard Michael’s voice. “Wait! Allow the images to build: you are inside Cupid’s dream.”

  It was like walking through a dancefloor when the smoke machine had been left on too long. White smoke curled around me, teasing at my bare arms. I glanced down at myself. I was in my Kevlar jeans, boots, and a thin vest top. That was promising.

  The smoke started to clear, sinking into the grass below me. Blue skies appeared above me. Slowly, in front of me, a wide river flowed. From the grassy bank, I watched as buildings started to rise from the ground. I folded my arms as I watched them with a frown, trying to work out where and when I was. It wasn’t America. It could have been Europe, seeing how some of the buildings looked really old. No, that wasn’t right. They looked new – recently built – but old in style.

  Then the columns started to rise from the ground, and even though they were perfectly intact, I knew where and roughly when I was. This was ancient Rome. Why on earth was Cupid dreaming of… “Oh no,” I sighed, glumly.

  “Do not worry,” Michael said, appearing behind me.