by Jane Lebak
He sat on the mat and pulled the blanket taut about his shoulders, surprised by the painless movement of his arms and the ease of his own breathing.
"Hey there."
Gabriel jumped, shifting rapidly so he faced Raphael, and he retreated even as Raphael raised his hands. "It's okay. I'm not coming close."
Gabriel shivered, and then he kept shivering.
A moment after, Raphael reached for his soul through the bond they shared, and Gabriel tensed. Raphael backed off while Gabriel kept his head bowed, his cheeks hot, and now he couldn't look into the Seraph's eyes.
Images and impulses came to him from Raphael, less invasive this time as the Seraph only projected: Nothing had changed between them. He was distraught that it had happened, but what the men had done, had wanted to do, didn't change their friendship, and again he offered his soul through their bond.
Gabriel projected an image back to Raphael: filthy rags.
Sorrow projected in return. A picture of the rags as linen squares bleached white, pressed and folded. Then Raphael repeated he was staying until morning.
Gabriel closed his eyes and lay on his side.
Alone in the middle of the night, an angel generally will talk to God. Gabriel did not pray. He kept his attention off Raphael. He curled tight as before.
Hands. Blows. Faces. Hot breath.
A cry formed in his throat, but he killed it. Don't think about it. They'd all be dead in the morning. They'd never be able to touch him again. It happened and it was over. Don't think about it. Kill it.
Raphael could put him to sleep—would he like that?
Recognizing the thought as a projection from Raphael, Gabriel agreed, and then the heaviness of an exhausted body dragged his protesting thoughts under.
- + -
Gabriel found herself lying in a field, arms and wings wrapped around her legs. A breeze stirred the trees, and the grass blades brushed her sides to its rhythm.
Thick draperies hung throughout her mind, like curtains partitioning rooms in a house. She pushed at one but then decided to leave it be. For now, she was an angel alone in a field. In angelic form once again (she felt surprised at feeling surprised—when hadn't she been an angel?) Gabriel stretched her arms and unfurled six grey wings. Her blond hair dangled over her shoulders.
She straightened her simple clothing and leaped into flight.
In three beats, the wings lifted her in an escape from the earth, carrying her to the level of the clouds.
Don't fly too high, or you'll fall, warned something inside.
Gabriel looked at the clouds and knew they would grab her if she came closer, but she couldn't stop ascending.
Oh, she thought. I'm dreaming like a human. That's unexpected. Unexpected, but a unique chance to gather data about a human's unconscious thought processes.
The clouds nabbed her. They gummed her and swallowed her, holding her arms and legs like clamps, and she called out. Her wings sliced the vapor, but the amorphous mass reconstituted itself just as quickly as her feathers could cut.
Gabriel freed herself and plunged toward the ground. Unable to slow in time, she crashed into the grassy hillside on her back and couldn't move no matter how hard she tried.
Sleep paralysis. She'd heard of the phenomenon, and she knew it caused some distress to the humans who experienced it. My body can't move, and that's carried through into the dream.
The waving grass snapped over her and lashed her to the ground. Her limbs found themselves, but too late. The grass kept snaking around her, pulling her into the dirt, and when she screamed, over her mouth like a gag.
Again, wings scissored uselessly as Gabriel tried to break the living ropes.
Tighter they held her, rings of pain that muffled her hearing into a whine. As the pressure prevented her from drawing breath, her vision scattered into hundreds of green points.
Abruptly the earth gave way, and she plunged into an underground lake.
With no sense of direction in the lightless water, Gabriel swam. Could she find an exit? Would her wings grow waterlogged? She couldn't drown, but the water could affect her in other ways. Claustrophobia and hysteria could accomplish what suffocation could not.
With every stroke she longed for a rock, and finally she found one. Clawing upward, she surfaced through tripwires of light and gasped until her ribs hurt. Ribs – something had hurt her ribs. Something terrible. No, don't think about it. The air tasted stale, but she didn't get a chance to look around before a hand grasped her wrist and hauled her from the water.
The men of Sodom.
Gabriel knew she was dreaming, but she yanked toward the water. The crowd pulled her away. They cropped her hair close with a knife, then sliced off her belt. Someone else ripped off her sandals.
"Leave her alone!"
Raphael and Michael flashed their swords, scattering the Sodomites.
Michael lifted her from the rocks, supporting her with an arm and a wing. Raphael stood on her other side, holding his sword erect as he stood guard.
Gabriel wrapped her arms around herself. "Thank you. Is this really you in the dream, or are you also dream figments? I haven't devised a means of determining whether you're real."
"Just relax," Michael said. "We're here now."
"We'll take care of you," said Raphael.
They flashed her to the field where she had begun. The grass was no longer a predator, moving only as the wind directed.
Until Raphael pushed her to the ground and knelt over her body. Gabriel screamed, but Michael tore off her tunic, and he pushed her shoulders to the ground while Raphael put his hands on her body.
Gabriel kicked Raphael in the stomach, but Michael jerked her backward. "This is a dream! Why are you doing this?"
Michael pinned her arms behind her back, and Raphael maneuvered his body too close to her own. Hot breath struck her lips.
"You're only a dream! In God's name and authority, I order you to leave!"
They both vanished. Good. She got to her feet and looked around, then made the field vanish, then the clouds, then the sky itself.
"So," she said, not bothering to fold her wings around her naked body, "Are you done testing me?"
No answer, so she scanned the blank field of her vision for the only one who could have intruded on her mind this way. "I know better than to expect an apology, but since I've passed this test too, shouldn't I get an explanation?"
Still nothing. Gabriel said loudly, "I should be furious at you, but I keep rationalizing. 'All things are permitted for a purpose.' Michael or Raphael couldn't have come up with this kind of senseless act. Not the men of Sodom. Not nature or 'circumstance'."
She paused just long enough. "Not even Satan."
She stood absolutely still, but no answer came. "Well? Don't I get a reason?"
She changed her sight to an inner sight, the Vision of God where she could look at Him face to face, and He wasn't angry.
"I'm not very happy with you right now," she said.
She clenched tight as God touched her soul. A mote of His peace settled on her even as one of her wing-pairs dropped to become a new garment, but like the clothing, the peace stayed on the surface.
"I love you, Gabri'li," God said.
"Why are you telling me that now?" She frowned. "You permitted that. You cast us to those savages and let it happen."
Silence.
She pressed her palms to her eyes and knitted her fingers. "I need you to give me an answer. Your orders didn't leave us any choice." She fingered the grey tunic lying against her skin. "I need to know why you made that happen to me."
When God didn't give any more of an answer than His presence, Gabriel tightened her fists. "You made me a Cherub. I live to answer these questions! When tragedy happens to people I offer them reasons, so how can you deny me what I'm supposed to give them?"
God didn't sound upset. "Do you think a reason will help you?"
"Of course a reason would help!" Gabriel's eyes gl
inted. "I know how you work with humans, but when you give them suffering it's either in punishment for sin or because they're part of a fallen world, and in my case, neither applies."
God said, "Go on."
Gabriel folded her arms. "It stands to reason that you had an objective in mind for this experience, some effect intended to be wrought by myself or by Michael. But Michael declined to use their attack as an indicator for Sodom's immediate immolation, so –"
"You're theorizing," God said.
Gabriel said, "Thank you."
"There are times when theory isn't the goal, even for a Cherub," God said. "Sometimes what you need is to feel."
Gabriel wrapped her arms around her stomach. "I don't want to feel that. I'll panic. If I panic, I can't think clearly. It was bad enough with the human stress hormones and pain receptors at work that — "
God said, "Gabriel, stop."
Gabriel fell silent, head bowed.
God said, "You have to draw closer to humankind, to feel their fears and pressures. I want you to sample their frustration, their limitations, and their perspective."
Gabriel sighed. "I know why they feel what they do. Stress hormones. Pain receptors. I experienced them, and I'm grateful to you for making me an angel."
God said softly, "But what about compassion?"
As though an Arctic wind blew over her sweat-beaded skin, Gabriel recoiled. "But— We're not the same."
"You're not the same. I don't want you to be the same. I want you to be the soul I made you." God's voice didn't have the gentleness Gabriel expected, and she raised her grey eyes to seek out God's face in the mist. When that failed, she again turned that gaze into her heart and found Him in the Vision. "I want you to have empathy for them. I want you to feel why I love them."
Gabriel committed the words to memory. She tried not to process them as she heard; there would be time enough afterward, after Sodom and Gomorrah became a cautionary tale and after she was back among her own kind. Her own choir, who knew why man had fallen in the first place and who would know how to help them persevere anyhow.
Gabriel sat on the formless ground of the dream-plane and did her best not to recall the grasp of disgusting, sweating, angry men or the desolation of an alley devoid of Godliness. "I don't forget things, so will I carry this gash with me forever, not wanting to be touched by even my closest friends? Why did You permit me to doubt Michael and Raphael? For that matter, why would You let me doubt You?"
God moved around her like humid summer air.
"And while I appreciate the new experience, there's the matter of this dream."
"You gave that to yourself," God said.
Gabriel started. "Angels don't dream."
"You're not an angel at the moment. You're in a human body."
Gabriel's shoulders dropped. "If you want to be technical about it. But then you allowed me to dream something five times more frightening than what happened in that alley."
God said, "You were well into the process of repressing the experience, and I will not leave you crippled by fear for the rest of eternity. That's not living life to the fullest."
Gabriel folded her arms. "Your point. So the dream had a purpose, but I still haven't the slightest clue what your reason was for allowing the incident that sparked the dream."
"Just trust that there was one."
Gabriel huffed. "You could tell me."
"Sometime in the future, you'll fulfill the ultimate purpose in my having created you, and this will have been one of the elements against which I shaped you to make you perfect."
Ultimate purpose?
Gabriel looked up with round, round, asking eyes.
"I'm not going to tell you yet," said God.
She made her eyes yet rounder, and more beautiful.
"No," He said.
She sighed. "Michael suffered, too."
God's expression chided her. "His lesson," said God, "is his own. I'm with you now. I'll stay with you. But you know what I want you to do."
She nodded, and the dream faded. Gabriel awoke to discover the night had become morning.
- + -
Michael opened his eyes to find Gabriel sitting on his own mat, watching him. Gabriel projected, Good morning!
Michael, careworn even though he had slept, leaped up and hugged Gabriel, nearly knocking him to the ground. He realized too late that he wasn't supposed to have touched him, but when Gabriel didn't recoil, Michael closed his eyes and laughed.
After a moment, he sat back from Gabriel and looked at him directly, the sky eyes expressing sorrow to the cloud-colored ones.
Gabriel nodded, echoing Michael's expression.
Michael touched his hands to Gabriel's and smiled in return.
They went into the kitchen where Lot's wife cooked breakfast over a fire. "Where's your husband?" asked Michael.
"Speaking to our sons-in-law," answered the woman.
She handed Michael and Gabriel bread, a handful of figs, and pottery cups. They seated themselves and began eating, Michael noting how Gabriel had recovered his appetite. "I'm glad to see you're better this morning," the woman said. "I told Lot you needed a night's rest. He thought you were dying."
Michael met Gabriel's eyes. "Raphael visited," he said in Heaven's native tongue.
Gabriel nodded.
A moment after, Gabriel added, "I talked it out with our Father last night. We reached an understanding."
Lot entered the kitchen, still wearing his overtunic against the morning chill.
Michael turned to him. "Where are your sons-in-law?"
"They refused," said Lot. "I'm afraid they're like the rest."
Gabriel stood. "It's time, then. You have to take your wife and daughters away so you don't burn with the city."
Lot's wife rushed to his side. "Now? Can't I say goodbye? I have friends here. If I tell them, maybe we can convince our sons-in-law to come with us after all. Maybe you can talk to them."
Michael caught a hesitation in Gabriel's eyes, but then Gabriel shook his head. "God has His reasons. It's time to go."
Lot, his wife and daughters tried to gather the things they wanted to take, but half an hour later they kept finding more material objects that had to accompany them to their new life. Finally, Gabriel and Michael grabbed the family by their arms and led them forcibly from the city.
At the base of the ridge, Michael and Gabriel stopped. "Don't look back," Michael said. "There's nothing to be gained by looking back."
Gabriel watched the city gates for any people in pursuit, but none came. Lot thanked them again, and he took his family into the wilderness.
When at mid-morning, Lot had achieved a safe distance, Gabriel stood.
"It's almost over," Michael murmured. "So many people. Two cities full of dreams and good intentions."
"They had no good intentions here." Gabriel had all but shaken the dust off his sandals when they left. "Ask for our orders, and let's get it over with."
The Lord instructed Gabriel to take Sodom and Michael to destroy Gomorrah, then restored them to their full angelic forms.
The light faded, and Michael turned to Gabriel only to exclaim, "No!"
Gabriel faced him. Gone was the lithe form, the angular features. Even out of the human body, Gabriel had remained male rather than returning to her natural form.
Michael said, "You aren't going to change back?"
Gabriel's wings closed around himself. "I'd rather not."
"You're out of danger. Don't do this to me." Michael grabbed him by the shoulders, but Gabriel yanked backward. "Please."
Rubbing his arms, Gabriel looked at some of the feathers on the outermost pair of wings. "I'm not particularly attached to myself one way or the other. We're pure spirits. It's all affectation anyhow." His brows tightened. "Please don't take it as an insult. There isn't any guilt on you."
Without another word, Gabriel spread his wings and glided toward Sodom. Michael watched him from the ground, and then with just a
thought, he flashed himself to Gomorrah.
- + -
Gabriel didn't hover for a last look at the faces, at the servants hanging laundry or the merchants trying to make a living. He didn't look for the ones who had cracked his ribs or torn his clothes. He opened his hands and formed the fire of Heaven, gathering it until his feathers and hair stood up with the heat. He set out a circle of flame to demark the city's boundaries.
As he closed the circle, he hesitated at one rotten tree. A tree containing a beehive. Inside, or outside the circle?
It took too long to decide, and he redrew the circle six times in five seconds. Inside or outside?
They don't sting when they're not threatened. And Gabriel – was he being threatened?
Outside, then. He tightened the circle and left the hive on the border.
With God's energy coursing through him, Gabriel poured liquid flame into Sodom like molten steel into a cast.
Every plant and animal he dispatched according to the will of God. Every human life, snuffed out, the fear and the outcry and the pain washing past without leaving a mark on him in the center of that aerial kiln.
More. Everything. Everything, gone. Scorched down to the bedrock, crumbled into ashes and then the ashes themselves crumbled into something that resembled sand. Filth scoured clean that would never again harm anyone.
Gabriel lowered the fire and checked. Nothing remained of Sodom.
His mouth twitched. He called it good.
Michael appeared beside him, tears in his eyes. Gabriel hardened his gaze and stared at a rotten tree that returned the look without flinching. In the hive, he could sense the bees confused by the smoke, gorging on honey as if preparing to leave their home. Good. Swarm away. There never was any hope here to begin with.
Together they returned home, to the Lord.
Holiday
1236 BC
Raguel finished binding the last of the demons that had attacked Jericho. "Michael? You need any help over there?"
Michael was scanning the city walls from a distance. "I think the humans have it from this point. They'll take care of the military threat fine now that we've gotten rid of the demonic one."
As Raguel brought the demon over to the rest of their captives, he looked up and realized—he knew this one. They'd worked together before the Winnowing, back before Satan had rejected God and brought a third of the angelic host down with him from Heaven.
