“And you!” he rounded on Raphael, “What the hell was that? After all you just told me about her, you throw a knife at her with all the strength of an ang-” He cut off.
“Angel?” finished Shannon. “I assumed my little knife wouldn’t be able to kill the Archangel Raphael. I did give you both the chance to be honest with me. And I thought Angels didn’t lie.”
Raphael smiled. “I did not lie.” He pointed at Micah. “He lied. I just stayed quiet.”
Raphael turned to Micah shaking his head in clear amazement. “She is definitely a special one, Micah. Strongest imprint I have ever seen and that is saying something.”
Shannon slapped the table with an open palm causing both Micah and Raphael to jump. “Don’t talk like I’m not here. I am right here. I am standing right here.”
“Please don’t throw anything else - either of you. Sit down. Forget it, I’m sitting down.”
Raphael walked around the table and pulled out the chair. “Miss McLeod would you please sit? I am afraid we have some explanations to provide.”
She looked at him a moment and smiled. “Thank you, I am looking forward to hearing them. Will there be any more lies today, from anyone?”
“Not from me,” Raphael said with a chuckle.
Micah had laid his head down on the table, but raised one hand and waved it slightly in a vaguely negative fashion.
“Wonderful, then I’ll get us all something to drink before we talk.”
With that, Shannon spun on her heel and picked up the three mugs that she had prepared long before either Micah or Raphael had entered the cottage. She handed one to each of them and Micah took a long and quick draught. For her part, Shannon sat down in the offered chair, sipping daintily.
“So, you are an Archangel,” she said to Raphael, then turned to Micah, “And you are the Sentinel Tholem. Now, what is this imprinting that you were talking about?”
“No, he is really Micah, but you are right. He is God’s Sentinel. I made Tholem up.”
“Sounds like a lie to me.”
“I was telling a story; it was storyteller’s license.”
Shannon did not look convinced, but turned her gaze to Micah. “And you are dying. You certainly look old, but you seem quite healthy to me.”
“Apparently,” began Micah, “I am, and a few moments ago I thought it might have been today.”
Shannon ignored his jest. “You don’t seem too upset about it. You want to die?”
Micah sighed. “It’s not that easy, child.”
Shannon raised a finger. “Please, I think we are well passed that.”
“Indeed,” Said Raphael.
Micah glared at him. “Not helping. I’m serious, Shannon. It is complicated. I have lived a long long time and seen many terrible things. It feels right. It feels time.”
She looked at him. “Many terrible things? Like my mother dying?”
Micah winced. “Like that, yes. I should have been able to save her. But I was already too slow - too weak. I had been chasing them for months and might never have stopped them were it not for Margaret.”
Micah smiled sadly. “You are just like her. Same face and the same hair - touched by fire.” He sighed. “I found her fighting three of them. She shouldn’t have even been able to fight one. A blade in each hand - she was a blur of elegance and motion. I stepped out of what must have looked to her like a glowing hole in the air, with eyes sparking green, covered in armor, and holding a sword.”
Micah looked first at Raphael and then to Shannon. “Do you know what she said to me? Do you know what she said to this glowing god-like being that stepped out of the air?” Micah didn’t wait for a response. “She said, ‘can you get one of these off my back; I’ll take the other two.’ So I did.”
“That’s why I could tell Liam those monsters weren’t coming back. Your mother killed them; I helped a little.”
Shannon’s eyes were bright. “If you killed them, why isn’t she here?”
“It was him?” asked Raphael.
Micah looked over and nodded silently. “Yes, it was him. Maurius, my opposite. Once the skin walkers were dead, your mother ran toward your house to make sure you were all safe. I followed but was quite a ways back when she ran through the door. I heard the conflict and thought one of the skin walkers might have been in the house. I started to run. I was almost there when the door opened and I saw him there with Margaret.”
“What happened?” Shannon asked through clenched teeth.
“Shannon, it is enough to say…’
“What. Happened. To. My. Mother.”
Micah shivered. “He held her in front of him. His sword was through her back, impaling her. He was gloating, spewing nonsense about how he’d won. He went on about how he’d waited patiently, that he’d searched for her. He said she was the first soul-born and that he’d killed her Without her, darkness would grow and that I could not prevail. Then he pushed her forward tore open a portal and stepped through. I was going to leap through after him but your mother called to me. She was still alive and as I drew near she grabbed me. Her voice was like iron. She made me promise, Shannon. She made me swear to watch over you and your brothers, so I did. In those last moments, that’s all I could give her. A promise. That’s why I stayed. That’s why I’m always underfoot. Because I let your mother die and I wasn’t going to fail at keeping the promise I made to her.”
Shannon’s eyes were wet with tears as she stared into the ancient eyes of God’s first Sentinel. She reached up and cupped his face with her hands wiping away his tears as well.
Raphael took in the scene. Looking first to the young woman who seemed so much older than her years and then to his friend, the Sentinel who had fought across the ages at his bequest. Angels didn’t doubt; it wasn’t in their nature, but as he reflected on the story he wondered at how it could be. In that moment of contemplation, he saw it on Shannon’s outstretched wrist and he smiled a smile of the Angels.
“Maurius did not win. Maurius did not kill the soul-born.”
Shannon and Micah turned toward the Angel.
“Did your mother have a tattoo, Shannon?”
She paused. “Yes, how did you know that?”
“It was on her wrist and it was in the form of a Dove.” Raphael did not ask this, he stated it as fact.
“She told you she had it made to keep you safe.”
Shannon’s tears were flowing freely now. “Yes. She said it was our secret and that I should never speak of it.”
Raphael reached over and gently raised the sleeve from Shannon’s left arm and Micah let out a gasp. There was a perfectly formed dove on her arm.
“That,” said the Angel, “is no mark made by man.”
Micah looked, stunned, at the dove shaped birth mark. He touched it and the stone in his ring blazed brightly, just as it did that night 14 years ago. He stared into her eyes and saw tiny flecks of green that each glowed like small emerald stars.
Raphael placed a hand on Micah’s and Shannon’s shoulders. He looked at the Sentinel. “Behold, my friend. Behold your soul-born and rejoice.”
Micah exerted a fair amount of will in order to keep silent. Shannon stared intently at the Angel, flipping her dagger absently across her knuckles. Each time it reached her little finger, she’d grasp it and bury into the table right between the fingers of her other hand as it rested there.
The old Sentinel watched as the dagger thunked between each finger in turn.
“Four hundred,” she sighed, turning her eyes to Micah.
“Hmmm?”
“Four hundred. I have been rolling this dagger since I was younger than Liam. I can do it with my eyes closed, and I have placed it perfectly between each finger four hundred times while you’ve been waiting for me to slice something off.
“I assume four hundred is something special?” Micah asked, exasperated.
“Not really. I just like going through the whole hand a hundred times. It’s a nice, round number.”
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“Seems you still have five fingers until you finally manage to cut one off. Wouldn’t that be five hundred little thunks I should have heard rather than four hundred, if you wanted to attempt self amputation four hundred times?”
She narrowed her eyes a bit. “You aren’t very good with numbers are you?”
“No, he is not,” answered Raphael. “I gave up trying, millennia ago.” The Angel held up a hand and nodded to Shannon. The girl placed her own finger between those of Raphael, each in turn. As she did so, he counted off, “One, two, three, and, four. Five fingers, but only four spaces between them. Thus, four hundred thunks.”
“Four fingers and a thumb,” she corrected.
“True enough, four and a thumb,” Raphael accepted graciously.
“I’m glad you two didn’t know each other before today,” Micah grumbled and got up to look for some of the cheese they had eaten earlier.
“As I was saying,” began Raphael, “I don’t know why your mother recognized your birthmark as something special or had the foresight to understand that having it would place you in danger. Sometimes, Mothers just know things. You grew within her for nine months and, under normal circumstances, that creates a bond that borders on the magical. In your case, at the moment of conception, your very soul became imprinted with a sliver of something very special, unique in fact. Perhaps, in that moment she saw something, or felt something, that gave her insight into your destiny.
Shannon felt the air stir as something flew past her ear.
Raphael casually reached up and caught the wooden cup a scant second before it would have hit him full on the nose. Without taking his eyes off of Shannon, he said, “Micah, has a real problem with destiny. Makes him angry to think he does not have a choice in things. I find it one of the most confusing aspects of humanity, really. I just accept what I am and that I have a planned role to play.”
“Freewill, Raphael. You have a hard time understanding freewill.”
The Angel shrugged.
Micah returned to the table and set his plate and cup down with a bang. “Destiny means nothing for those who have freewill.” He looked at Shannon. “You are free to do whatever you like. Do not let him take that away from you. Every choice I made across more years than I can count, I made freely and with full understanding that those decisions would have ramifications.”
“I don’t know, Micah. Raphael makes a pretty good case for destiny. He serves God, who exists outside of time. He sees the beginning, middle, and end, all at once like a tapestry laid out on a table. Just because we have to live our lives in one direction, following the thread from one end of the tapestry to the other, doesn’t mean that the pattern hasn’t already been woven.”
Raphael looked smug. “That is the very thing I have been trying to explain to him for, well, forever.”
“No, wait.” said Micah, “You are looking at this wrong and also discounting something very important. First, let’s just say you both are right. You aren’t. But just for a moment let’s just assume that you aren’t horribly wrong - which you are. If only God sees this unfolded tapestry and none of the threads are the wiser to its overall weave, then how would each thread know the difference whether each decision were to affect a different weave or not?”
Shannon looked thoughtful and Micah continued, “Beyond that, Raphael always leaves out a critical aspect of my existence. I exist outside God’s sight. He doesn’t know what I will do or what effect it will have on the weave of His creation. If destiny is just the direction one’s life will take because God has foreknowledge of it, then I cannot have a destiny, because God has no idea what I’m going to do next.”
Micah popped a piece of cheese into his mouth as both he and Shannon turned to Raphael.
“I do not know why I always forget that part,” Raphael said - his brow furrowed. “When I try to concentrate on that aspect of Micah’s character, it is as if my mind slips off of it and cannot hold on to the thought.” He turned to Shannon and stared so intently at her that the girl began to fidget. The Angel gave an exasperated breath. “You too. It is the same with you. This is really quite remarkable. With everyone else, if I concentrate, I can see hints at their futures - at what they will do or what might be done to them. With you two, it’s like a starburst of shadows reflecting back into facing mirrors. There are infinite possibilities.” He shook his head, clearly uncomfortable.
“Don’t worry, Raphael,” said Micah, “By tomorrow, you won’t even remember us having this conversation.”
The Angel looked startled.
Micah turned to Shannon. “We’ve had this conversation at least a dozen times over the years, he and I. Usually it’s because he notices something odd about a person who is close to me, something that unsettles him and he looks closer. That’s when he usually finds it, but most times he just passes along without noticing.”
Raphael grumbled. “Do I always hate being referred to in the third person as if I were not here?”
Micah brightened, “I don’t know, actually. This is the first time I’ve actually been able to share it with anyone.”
“Wonderful,” said the Angel, “I hope you two enjoy the conversation that I am likely to forget.”
“Oh, it’s more than likely. You are destined to forget it.”
“Now, that was just mean,” said Shannon and she placed her hand on Raphael’s.
“Wait, how did I become the villain in this story?” asked Micah.
“You are making fun of his disability,” she said protectively patting his hand. Raphael smiled at her warmly.
“Says the two people critiquing my skill with numbers,” shot back Micah, “Keep this in mind, my young soul-born lady, you have known him for a bit less then three hours. I’ve been putting up with his ‘I’m a nigh omniscient Angel’ speeches for nearly three. Thousand. Years. All I was trying to say was that you do not have a destiny that is outside your control. You have freewill.”
“I never claimed to be anything close to omniscient, Micah. I can just see the pattern of people’s lives.”
“Not mine you can’t. And, evidently not hers either. We are outside His sight,” Micah said while making a vague upward gesture, “and thus way, way outside yours. So much outside yours, in fact, that just trying to pay too much attention to our futures makes you all wobbly at the knees. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Raphael looked first to Micah and then to Shannon. He said nothing for a solid minute, then whispered, “You are not wrong.”
“But, what does it mean?” asked Shannon, “This is all just a jumble in my head. My birthmark, my mother, you, Raphael. I can’t make sense of any of it.”
Micah chuckled warmly, “Not surprising given that much of it is confusing even to me. Raphael over there gets the angelic equivalent of nausea if he thinks about it too much. Let’s try and break it down into smaller parts.”
“First, you understand my task and how I came to be - at least conceptually.” She nodded and Micah continued, “As I understand it, for me to be effective in this role, I had to be free of celestial interference as it were. I’m free to act without any fears of godly smiting, but any prayerful requests for aid and succor go unanswered as well. Raphael can hear me when I call him, but most times he stays away too, which is probably my fault because I usually just ask him if he should come rather than telling him that he should come. But that’s a bit beside the point.”
“That seems lonely.”
“It is,” said Micah with a sigh, “You have no idea how lonely it has become, and I hope you never do.”
“But I don’t see how any of that has to do with me or my mother. I don’t see what caused me to be what you say I am. This soul-born, whatever that is.”
Micah, lifted his hands, palms upward, in an expression of both regret and impotence. “All, I know is that one night, 14 years ago, my sleeping mind lashed out in both loneliness and sorrow. It used my power to fuel my wish for a family and a daughter. That wish imprinted its
elf on your soul as it was conceived. Truth be told, I don’t even know that; it’s really just a theory that Raphael advanced only hours ago. That said, given your birthmark and its reaction to my touch, I’d say it’s a pretty good theory. As for why you were gifted or cursed with this connection to me, I cannot say. It seems a cruel joke for me to finally have such a connection with another person only to lose it”
“I remember. I think I remember?” The Angel looked imploringly at Micah. “Quickly, ground me to this moment. Shield me from my own nature and help me to remember.”
Micah reached out to grasp the Angel’s offered hands and held them tightly. Shannon gasped as both their eyes came alight blazing green and the air sparked with energy. “Shield me Micah. Shield me from myself.”
The Sentinel clearly strained with the effort. “It’s very hard, Raphael. There is so much connecting you to the heavens. I don’t know if I can block it.”
“You must or I will forget it all and you will never know.”
Micah nodded and redoubled his efforts. The air crackled with the energy playing about both men and Shannon saw the Sentinel give a great heave as he formed his hands into fists around those of of Raphael. She felt a popping sensation. Around them formed a glowing green orb through which she could see the room, but it distorted as if viewing it from beneath the water. Shannon looked at Raphael. The Angel met her gaze but his eyes had lost their glow.
“I don’t know how long I can hold this,” Micah said, “It’s like I’m being crushed by tons of rock.”
“Understandable,” began Raphael, “You’re doing something that was not supposed to be done. You’ve abducted and subdued an Angel, removed from him all his power and all his constraints. It’s remarkable.”
Beads of sweat had broken out on Micah’s forehead as he trembled from the strain and growled through clenched teeth, “Marvel later…explain now. Really heavy rocks crushing me.”
Raphael pulled his hands free from Micah and turned to Shannon. She instinctively reached out and accepted the offered embrace. “Forgive me, child. I’ve done you a grave injustice. I’ve placed a burden on you without your knowledge and without your leave to do so. Micah rightly points out the nature of Angels is to obey, perfectly, and without question. I’m not to interfere with Micah’s decisions regardless of whether they serve the light or darkness and I’ve held true to that charge throughout the centuries.
Sentinels of Creation: A Power Renewed Page 5
