by Brian Fuller
“Then we come to your Active Mission Evaluation. The whole thing has become so epic in proportion internally that you almost got lost, but Ramis, of course, found plenty to complain about. You ignored Cassandra—again—and took a prominent normal into an ambush, albeit your ambush. Not dropping Tela off at the safe house, however, is a giant black mark on your mission record. Cassandra told me your reasons, but they didn’t fly very far with Ramis.”
Trace leaned back, stifling a groan. “So I failed, then.” More time at Trevex D. Would they keep Cassandra as his trainer?
“I’m not done yet, though yes, to Archon Ramis you are an insubordinate and impulsive wild card. Arrogant, too. Here’s what I saw, and I’ll take the missions in reverse order. In this latest mission I saw someone who thinks on his feet, adapts, improvises, and can kick teeth in when necessary. Realizing what the phone in the vision meant was genius and likely averted the massacre of everyone on your team and possibly Tela as well.
“In your rescue of Prescilla I saw extreme loyalty, bravery, and courage. Given, you’re still young enough in the program that you may not know enough of the horrors out there to be properly afraid, but I believed you in the debrief when you said you would do the same thing again. I applaud that. I know why 44-2 exists, and I’ve had to invoke it myself, but nobody likes it no matter how necessary it may seem. Your commitment to ignore it is refreshing, even if a bit naive.
“Now to your ride-along. You might wonder what good I could possibly pull out of that mission besides your creativity and perverse sense of humor. There was a little detail at the end of Cassandra’s report that caught my eye. It said, basically, that while she thought your actions were motivated by a desire to punish the thieves, you had stated you wanted to erase the criminals’ presence from the house so that the grieving family wouldn’t have an extra burden to deal with that day. Now, I was married before my death and have dealt with many men before and after, and I have to say that what you did was uncommonly thoughtful for one of your sex. If you hadn’t had so much adolescent fun doing it, I think you would have passed the ride-along with flying colors.
“So there it is. That sums up the boxing match I had with Ramis this morning. He can’t understand why Cassandra hasn’t resigned from her training post in frustration, while I now understand why she begged me to let you go on the Seattle mission.”
Trace’s brow creased. “She begged you? She told me the opposite.”
Magdelene chuckled. “Did she? Well, she probably didn’t want you feeling good about yourself. She likes you, I think.”
“Likes me? What does she do to people she doesn’t like?”
“Cassandra is a complicated woman, Trace. Don’t take her at face value. You’ve heard about the business with Goldbow?”
“Yeah. He told me.”
“You may wonder why Ramis and I keep throwing him into these missions with her. The one thing Ramis and I do agree on is that she was happy when she was with Goldbow. Her life before she died, quite frankly—and excuse the vernacular—sucked. That carried over after death. With Goldbow she had finally started to move on. Then, her prince, her soul mate, her love, the up-and-coming combat monster of a Michael obeys orders and 44-2s her in the middle of a mission. Operationally speaking, he did the right thing. Romantically speaking, he dropped a nuclear bomb on their relationship. I hope she can forgive him, but it’s not her nature.”
“So why throw them together?” Trace said. “She won’t even look at him half the time. Seems a little distance might be better.”
“To be honest, the only way I see her forgiving him is if he can redeem himself somehow. He can only do that if they are still serving together. But back to you for a moment. What came of my argument with Ramis this morning was this: you failed your AME, sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“Well, officially, yes, operationally, no. Let me explain. We need Cassandra in the field, not at Trevex. We need you both places. You’ve shown you can handle yourself. Cassandra was furious when we suggested someone else could take over your training, so we came up with a hybrid solution. You continue your training in the field acting as an operational agent. Ramis didn’t like it, but Cassandra put her foot down. And it can be a heavy foot.”
Trace slumped back into his chair. It could have been worse. “Look, I think I’m coming off as a rebel. I just try to do what I think is right.”
“And your instincts have been good,” she reassured him. “But realize that many of the rules and regulations—and, no, I won’t say all—come from the lessons learned by those who have been doing these missions for a long time. Keep your instincts and that in mind, and I think you’ll do well. I will also ask two more things of you. First, when Archon Mars finds out Ramis failed you, he will come after you hard to join the Michaels. Please give the Gabriels a chance. Second, will you remember what I said about Cassandra and be patient with her? She is a friend, and I want to see her well.”
“I will.” He liked Magdelene. She was reasonable.
She stood. “Excellent. Your first mission will come soon, and with the way things are now, it probably won’t be much safer than Seattle. Thank you for your time, Trace. It was nice to finally meet you.”
“I should thank you,” he said. “I’m sure an Archus has better things to do.”
“Like shopping,” she said with a smile. “I’m the one who dragged Cassie kicking and screaming into the world of high fashion. Now she can’t get enough.” Her phone vibrated, and she pulled it from her purse. “And, yep, Cassie is wondering if I’m done with Jarhead. Is that what she calls you?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, at least it’s not Chumpkins. And what was the other? Oh, yes, Pukeface. Consider yourself lucky.”
They moved to the door, and when he opened it, Mindy and Scarlett walked up holding bags from a local bagel shop.
“Your neighbors?” Magdelene asked.
“Yes.” Trace introduced them, the college girls cowed by Magdelene’s professional air.
After a few pleasantries, Magdelene left, and he invited Scarlett and Mindy in.
“We noticed you were back,” Scarlett said, leaning against the newly organized counter in a way that emphasized her healthy curves. “Business trip?”
“To Seattle,” he confirmed. “Got back early this morning.”
Mindy unpacked the bagels, flashing him an inviting smile. She must have ended it with her boyfriend. “We brought you some brunch!”
“Thanks,” he said appreciatively. “You two are the best.”
“But we have to ask,” Scarlett pouted, “who are these gorgeous women who keep coming to your apartment? Are you dating one of them?”
“No,” he said, much to their relief. “They’re clients I’ve been working with for a few weeks on a sensitive computer-security problem. I’d be a bit too blue collar for them, I think.”
Once they were assured of his unattached status, Trace found himself the subject of some fairly aggressive flirting for the balance of the morning. He wondered if there was a form one had to fill out when dating normals. If he had his guess, it would probably be Form 2-STUPID. Still, if Mindy and Scarlett wanted to bring him food and act like he was the most attractive being in the universe, he would count it as a pleasant distraction from Archons, Dreads, and temperamental trainers.
Chapter 19
Party Over
“Well, Jarhead,” Cassandra said, hands on her hips, “I tried to convince them to keep you here and have either Samson or Gallant continue your training, but the powers that be thought it best you stick with me. That’s probably the right thing to do, anyway. You’re so slow at morphing I’d be embarrassed to pass you off to anyone else. They might think I didn’t teach you anything.”
“We couldn’t have that, now, could we?” Trace returned with a large helping of sarcasm. Was she trying to put him in his place or push him away? And why lie about wanting him on the team? Remembering his agreement with Magdel
ene, he bit back the urge to expose her fabricated story. He would be patient. He would be forbearing. He would put up with her insults. The clues he had gleaned about her past life from Archon Ramis and Archus Magdelene awoke some compassion within him. Her history with Goldbow he knew. Her life before death was a mystery he wanted to unlock, though she guarded the key ferociously. If he could understand what she had gone through, he would probably find some common ground with her.
The old black-and-white analog clock read 5:48 a.m. They stood inside the auditorium of Trevex A where the Cherubs had received their first orientation after stumbling dumbstruck off the bus two months ago. Today they graduated, changed their names to whatever they had chosen, and received their initial assignments.
Except for him.
While Trace had received his assignment—stick with Cassandra and work with her team—he would not join the others front and center to receive the halo-sword pin and handshakes from Archon Ramis and the other instructors.
Cassandra tugged at the lapel of his jacket. “And where did you get the suit?” she asked critically. “Brown? Really?”
“I picked it up at a—”
“Department store. And a cheap one. Look, your colors are blue and gray, okay? Wearing brown makes you look like a walking turd.”
“Thanks.”
She twisted her designer watch around her wrist until she could see its face. “I’d better get up there. Say hi to Prescilla for me if she shows up.”
“Will do.”
Cassandra strutted off. Trace took a seat at the rear and watched as the Cherubs and a host of other Ash Angels—mostly instructors and trainers—gradually filed into the auditorium. Ramis, Athena, and other staff he didn’t recognize sat up front behind a podium.
As always, his trainer outshone everyone in the fashion department. Her sleek black skirt with a slanted hem and lacy button up shirt highlighted a figure she had shaped to stun, her blonde hair spilling in curls over her shoulders. Among her more plainly attired colleagues, she seemed like the guest of honor.
“My son! There you are!”
Trace turned to find Lear standing in the aisle dressed in a pair of jeans and a rumpled gray T-shirt. Trace rose and took his extended hand, Lear pulling him in for a quick man hug.
“I don’t know if anyone told you, but I failed my AME, so I won’t be graduating.”
“Oh, I know,” Lear said, face souring as he settled in next to Trace. “That’s why I’m dressed like this. A subtle protest, you see.”
Trace wondered who would understand it. “Thanks for the support, but I probably deserved to fail.”
His Ash Angel father practically shot up from his seat. “Deserved to? Now you shut your mouth. You listen to your old man Lear. Only in Ramis’s universe could a man orchestrate the demise of fourteen Dreads and save a pop star from some horrible fate and still fail an AME. Let me tell you, you’ve got fans. There are pictures of you all over in the Scholus office. T-shirts too.”
“There are not.”
“Okay, so I’m the only one with a picture, but I swear I saw one of the cute little analysts wearing a ‘Trace Is the Man’ T-shirt this morning.”
Trace laughed. “Well, if I keep up my insubordinate ways, maybe I can meet her when Ramis has me emptying your garbage cans until I reach my Sixth Ascendancy.” Seeing Cassandra up front reminded him of something. “So I hear you had a little lunch date with my trainer. Had a really good talk about me.”
Lear winced. “Yeah, I ended up saying a bit more than I probably should have. She’s really persuasive, what, with the gifts she has and all. Sorry.”
“So she ‘beautied’ it out of you?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “And let me tell you, the beauty way is fantastic. Had me singing songs all afternoon.”
A polite cough turned their attention to the aisle.
“Good morning, Trace. How do you do?”
Trace’s eyes widened. A young Prescilla with her hair down and wearing a knee-length skirt! She almost seemed like a different person altogether, but her large brown eyes and round face were unmistakable. She smiled back at him tentatively, still a little uneasy in her modern clothes. She wore flats, apparently not ready for pumps or heels.
“I am fine.” He rose and bestowed an awkward hug on her. “You look great.”
“Yes, well, thank you. Dr. Oberon says I need to embrace the present day and learn to integrate, so here I am and feeling a bit exposed, I confess. Still, the good doctor has been very helpful. I am feeling much brighter, thanks to you, of course, and the wonderful Dr. Oberon. I owe you both a great deal.”
“Don’t mention it. Dr. Oberon is very good.”
She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You know, I think he may have designs on me.”
“Really? How can you tell?” he whispered back.
“Well, he asked if I were romantically inclined toward you since you rescued me. I told him I hadn’t thought about you in that way at all. Not even once. I believe he was trying to see if I was available.”
“Great,” he congratulated her, trying to sound enthusiastic. The Ash Angels certainly hadn’t spared his self-esteem a good thrashing. After graduation, he thought he might go spend more time with Scarlett and Mindy.
“And are you and Cassandra getting on any better?” she inquired.
He shrugged. “Hard to say.”
“Well, I was outraged to hear they won’t let you graduate today. I’ve only heard good things about you from the others I’ve talked to, the most excellent doctor included. Cassandra must be an implacable judge.”
“It wasn’t her call, but don’t worry about it,” Trace said dismissively. “I just need a little more polish is all.”
One of the people on the stand rang a silver bell three times, and the room quieted as people hurried to their seats. Prescilla bid him a quick farewell, and Trace returned to his place next to Lear.
“Does this suit make me look like a walking turd?” he asked Lear quietly.
Lear laughed uproariously just as the room settled, and all eyes turned questioningly upon them.
“Sorry!” Lear apologized. Everyone turned back around, and Lear continued to chuckle for a few moments before replying, “A little, yeah. Cassandra tell you that?”
“You guessed it.”
“Well, pay attention. She’s the best-dressed Ash Angel I’ve ever seen.”
The graduation started with a prayer from an Ash Angel history instructor named Rosemary. Trace had missed most of her classes due to his training with Cassandra and regretted it.
Once the prayer finished, Archon Ramis came forward and clutched the sides of the podium. “Graduating Ash Angels of the class of 2020,” he began with a practiced air of pomp, “welcome to this first marker of progress in your second life. Since the death of Christ, Ash Angels have blessed the earth doing good works and bringing hope and protection to the weak and downtrodden. Archaeological evidence suggests that Dreads have walked among the children of men even longer than we have, but for every evil they perpetrate, the Ash Angels have done tenfold more for the cause of goodness. You now take up this cause as the work of your new life. It is with great pleasure and confidence that I recommend this group of new Ash Angels for service. You are one of the most successful classes in recent years, only one of you not graduating and moving on to full operational status.”
Lear coughed noisily—another protest—and Trace had to resist the urge to let fly a middle finger. He knew Ash Angels could turn to Dreads, but how much evil one could do before that transformation was not entirely clear. While Cassandra’s insults and dishonesty indicated a little latitude, in his own mind he viewed it like a driver’s-license point limit, and Ramis simply wasn’t worth a point.
Once Ramis finished with his introductory remarks, each Ash Angel was called forward, given the halo-sword pin, and then Ramis announced the graduate’s Ash Angel name to the crowd. Prescilla stuck with Sapphire and blushed the entire time.
Trace felt a little left out by the end but amused himself by watching Cassandra trying to act like she cared about anything going on. She bounced her foot impatiently, visually inspected the auditorium as if looking for any points where Dreads might pop through the ceiling, stared at her watch as if trying to use mental powers to speed time, and was so preoccupied she failed to even smile at Ramis’s jokes. She had probably heard them all before.
With applause and another prayer, it ended. Athena rushed to the podium as everyone got up to go and told the new graduates to head to Trevex D to receive their Ash Angel phones, cover names, and first assignments. Most would ship out to other states and situations, while some would remain to do further specialized training and work within the hallways of Trevex or other Ash Angel operations centers. Trace lingered in the aisle, waiting to talk to Cassandra to see what came next for him, but Lear waved him back over to his seat.
“All right, Trace,” Lear said, rubbing his hands together. “While the rest go fill out more forms, it’s time for us to have a Trace Ascendancy party!”
“A what?”
“You got your first Bestowal and hence your first Ascendancy. It’s traditional to throw a party, though we usually don’t for the first one. But, hey, seemed like you could use a little recognition right around now.”
“Thanks, Lear, but I’ve got to find Cassandra and find out what I’m supposed to do.”
“She’s coming,” he assured him.
“So this was planned?”
Lear slapped him on the back. “Of course! It’s off-site. We’re not going to waste our perfect taste buds on Trevex cafeteria sludge. Ash Angels don’t have to puke, but I’ve come close while eating what they serve around here.”
“You don’t have to eat it,” Trace reminded him.
