Ange du Mal

by Stephanie Kane

  “I’m pretty sure Faust brought all of his suffering upon himself,” Divya said.

  Henry licked chocolate from his lip. “Whatever. We need your help, for the good of both Heaven and Hell. The Earth won’t be recognizable if the Watchers succeed.”

  I sighed. “Can’t I get a single day off?”

  Henry threw his stick into the fire. “The longer we wait, the closer the Watchers get to taking the Grail.”

  “Ugh,” I said. “Fine, I’ll go. But I won’t go without Sam. I need someone to back me up. I don’t trust you or the angels, even though we have a common enemy.”

  Henry relaxed against a tree trunk. “Fine. We’ll leave in the morning – you’ll need a good night’s rest.”

  My friends and I looked to each other.

  “You’re not sleeping in one of our tents,” Divya said.

  Henry looked up through the canopy at the stars. “Fine by me. I like the outdoors.” Henry reached into his backpack and brought out a bottle of wine and plastic cups. He uncorked the bottle with a Swiss army knife, filled a cup, and handed it to me. “See? I have an olive branch. I got you girls moscato. My fiancé likes it.”

  “Ooo, I love that stuff,” Rosanna said. She reached for a cup. Henry obliged.

  “This doesn’t make us friends,” I said, taking a sip of the sweet wine.

  Henry scratched his chin. “Whatever.”

  Henry slept under the stars. I woke early, with the first birds’ calls, and texted Samael:

  “Henry’s here. I need your help.”

  He texted back instantly, as if he was on the other end of the line waiting for my response:

  “WHAT IS THE ZOOPHILIAC DOING THERE? I’M COMING NOW.”

  A scythe slashed through the air, tearing open a portal beside me. Samael emerged, bruises under his eyes.

  “Where’s the animal fondler?” he said.

  Henry snored beneath a tulip poplar. Samael pressed his blade against Henry’s throat.

  “Oi?” Henry said, startled awake. “The hell?”

  Samael drew a thin line of blood from Henry’s neck. “Should I carve your liver out? Mince you to ribbons? If you lay a hand on Shannon, Father help me, I’ll eviscerate you.”

  Henry rolled away from the scythe. “Christ, you’re loony. I’m here to ask for help, not to hurt your girlfriend.”

  “I’m not his girlfriend,” I said.

  Henry threw his hands in the air. “Okay, sure you aren’t. No reason to murder me.”

  Samael looked at me. “Shannon? I thought we – you – I…”

  “What?” I said.

  Samael’s eyes bore holes in the ground. “Nothing.”

  Divya poked her head out of her tent, bleary-eyed. “Shannon, are you okay?” She glanced at Samael. “Oh. You’re here.”

  Rosanna unzipped the flap of her tent. “Would you guys be quiet? Ugh. I’m so hungover.” She glared at Samael. “Go away, garbage disposal.”

  Samael’s lips drew thin. “Glad to see you too.”

  Rosanna ran a hand through her bed-head. “Are you guys going somewhere? You can’t just ditch us.”

  “I’m sorry. I have to leave,” I said.

  “We’re coming with you,” Divya said, stepping out of her tent. “I’m not going to let you be alone with these creeps.”

  “Yeah, what she said,” Rosanna said. She poked a sleeping Arietta. “Hey, wake up, the Crypt Keeper’s here.”

  “Wha?” Arietta said, dreadlocks in knots. “Damn it. Sam?”

  Samael smiled at Arietta. “Started any youth movements?”

  Arietta flipped Samael the bird.

  Samael whistled low. “Your father wouldn’t approve.”

  Arietta groaned. “Stuff it, you old sack of bones.”

  Samael laughed. “That’s no way to talk to your godfather.”

  My eyes widened. “I didn’t think you had a familial bone in your body.”

  Samael smirked. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  Henry blotted at his nicked neck with his t-shirt. “Can you two stop flirting so we can go? Really, it’s disgusting.”

  I glared at Henry. “We’re not, okay? Stop labeling us.”

  Henry narrowed his eyes. “Right. You ready?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Where are we going?”

  “Yeah, where the heck is the Holy Grail?” Rosanna said. She, Arietta, and Divya stood at the ready.

  “The Holy Grail?” Samael said. “You’re telling me Michael is going to destroy it? That was my baptismal gift. He has no right.”

  “A gift you lost when you rebelled,” Henry said.

  Samael’s hands balled into fists. “You know nothing of the matter, you Procrustean ooze. I won’t allow Shannon to tamper with the Holy Grail, and I won’t babysit teenage girls.”

  I blew air through my teeth. “As if you’re more mature than us. Anyways, do you really want Raziel to get his hands on it?”

  “It doesn’t matter if we destroy the Holy Grail,” Samael said. “The first four seals – your heart – set off a ripple effect, activating other seals. The Holy Grail is just one of several. It’s of too much value, and Michael isn’t thinking clearly – he’s acting out of desperation. If we destroy it, we lose one of the most sacred objects of Heaven.”

  I knitted my brows together. “Look, wouldn’t it be better to get rid of it anyway? Just in case?”

  “She’s right,” Henry said. “We don’t have all day. We have to go.”

  “I didn’t ask for your opinion, sheep fondler,” Samael said, glaring at Henry.

  Henry’s temple throbbed. “You’re loony.”

  Samael looked at me, eyes hard. “If you do this, there will be consequences. The Holy Grail is symbolic of many things. It’s one of Heaven’s greatest treasures. There will be angels that will take offense at its destruction, and they may turn against us. Michael wants you to take the fall for this, so if anything goes wrong, he can blame you. Are you willing to take that risk?”

  I nodded. “I have to. I don’t want the horsemen to manifest.”

  Samael bit his lip. “Fine. I can take you to Heaven’s gates, but I can’t go in. You’ll have to make that journey alone.”

  “What about us?” Divya said.

  Samael side-eyed my friends. “You girls can wait with me. We can throw rocks at angels or something.”

  Divya squinted. “Is he being serious?”

  I glanced at the Reaper. He smirked. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

  “Swell,” Henry said. He summoned his petersword and opened a heaven’s gate. “After you, ladies.”

  Chapter 22

  The outskirts of Heaven were lush, green, a paradise. Trees swelled with glittering fruit. Morning dew sparkled on the flower-laden fields. We followed a dirt path through a meadow, bordered by forest, to burning gates. An angel stood guard with a sword. Her umber skin was tattooed with spirals and she wore a veil, like Michael’s soldiers.

  Samael saluted her mockingly. “Uriel. You look constipated, as usual.”

  Uriel shouldered her blade. “Come slithering back for forgiveness?”

  Samael smiled without warmth. “I’m afraid that’s not the case. Just escorting the Magdalene to Michael, who seems to be in desperate need of her. He could have called, you know.”

  “Whatever.” Uriel scanned us. “Henry, what took so long?”

  “She had to be plied with wine,” Henry said.

  “You said the moscato was a peace offering!” I said.

  Henry flashed me a crooked grin. “Same difference.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “I never should have trusted you.”

  Uriel, who seemed reluctant to display emotions, gave a hesitant smile. “You two always squabbled.”

  “Huh?” I said.

  Uriel nodded. “Even when you were kids. Adam would pull your hair; you would bite him for no reason. It was amusing.”

  Henry looked as uncomfortable as I felt.

&nb
sp; Uriel’s face hardened, humor gone. “The Magdalene and Henry can enter, but only them. You know the rules, Sam. No fallen can enter Heaven.”

  Samael faked offense. “What? I’m not invited to brunch with the piety posse?” He looked to Arietta, Divya, and Rosanna. “Start gathering rocks, girls. It’s going to be a long morning.”

  Henry motioned for me to follow.

  “Be careful, Shannon,” Samael said. “Michael won’t make a move on you – when he offers a truce, he means it. But that doesn’t mean you can trust him.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  Uriel approached Heaven’s gates. She thrust the tip of her sword into a blazing lock and twisted it. The gates inched open. Past their flaming glory lay a city of wonder, rising above the trees like New Jerusalem. Rosanna gasped.

  Uriel motioned for us to enter. I walked in behind Henry, in awe. I found myself in a city indescribable to human tongue. I followed in a daze, past multitudes of angels, into some sort of building stitched of dreams.

  Burning wheels spun under the ceiling, strings of words and sparks. They descended and took human form. Michael stood at the front.

  “You look well-rested,” the archangel said.

  I was on guard. “I guess.”

  Michael folded his wings. “Henry, thanks for bringing her.”

  Henry nodded. “Sure thing.” He walked into what became a hallway, the building ever-shifting, like a Rorschach ink blot.

  Michael smiled slightly. “I trust your trip was comfortable?”

  I looked to the other angels, all watching me, and the hair on the back of my neck rose. “Sure. Um, what do I do?”

  Michael tilted his head to the wall. A doorway appeared. “This is my Father’s throne room, where we keep our most treasured possessions. The Holy Grail is this way.”

  The angels murmured amongst themselves. I followed Michael into some sort of garden, if prayers were flowering plants. The whispers of millions echoed around me. A swirling cloud formed a table, enshrining a stone chalice. It pulsed with light, red as a cardinal. Michael looked upon it with reverence.

  “This is the vessel of my Father’s blood,” Michael said, voice sorrowful. “It is His promise to humanity. Even though it is just a symbol, it pains me that we must destroy it.”

  I was quiet. I wasn’t sure if Jesus was the Son of God, but the thought that Christ’s lips might have touched the vessel, and the fact that it had carried the first Eucharist, stirred my Catholic roots. I couldn’t bear to touch it.

  “I can’t do this,” I said.

  Michael’s eyes were gentle. “It’s just a symbol. What matters is humanity’s safety. Raziel can return to Heaven any time he wants – he’s an archangel. But what will be here to tempt him of the Grail is gone?”

  “But this doesn’t feel right.”

  Michael stared at the chalice. “It’s not meant to be easy.”

  I took a sharp breath. “Okay. What do I do?”

  There were tears in the archangel’s eyes. “Take my sword and touch its tip to the Grail. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Why do you care about the Grail so much? It hurts you just to look at it,” I said, voice quiet.

  Michael’s gaze was heavy. “My Father is gone. This is the only physical reminder of Him that I have left.”

  “Gone?” I said.

  Michael hung his head. “Father is a wanderer. He closes His eyes and casts Himself across the stars, seeking multitudes, charting all things that will be. He is travelling now. He rarely speaks to me - not like He used to. I touch the Grail, and I can hear Him, like the sea in a conch shell. It helps me remember how things were.”

  I couldn’t help but ask Michael a question: “Why do you do such awful things in His name, if He doesn’t even tell you to do them?”

  Michael gave a weary laugh. “Awful? Shannon, there needs to be order. My Father is gone. That is why I execute His will. The worlds are falling into ruin – false spirits run amok, calling themselves gods, trying to assume His mantle. But they are mere candle stubs in comparison to His glory. If you could only remember Him, you would know God’s providence - how true He is, how pure. There is a reason I serve Him, why I prostrate myself at the altar of His love. He is all there is, and He is all there will be. The rest is chaff.”

  My skin prickled. “Chaff?”

  “Yes. Now let this deed be done, before I change my mind.”

  I steeled myself. “Okay, Michael. If you’re sure.”

  He unsheathed his sword and handed it to me.

  The sword was surprisingly light. I touched its tip to the Grail. The chalice flashed crimson. My hands stung with heat.

  Michael began to sing, a deep, rich voice, so unlike Samael’s rough song. The fire of his blade danced with the melody, down its length, and spread to the chalice. The Holy Grail resonated, like a tuning fork, and glowed white hot. Without warning, it shattered.

  Michael stopped singing. He sunk to his knees and gathered the Grail’s pieces as if they were baby bones.

  I set his sword on the ground.

  “Thank you,” Michael said, his voice hoarse. He tucked the shards of the Grail into the pockets of his robe. “I’ll – I’ll escort you back to Samael.”

  Chapter 23

  May approached, finals drew close, and so did my nineteenth birthday. Samael was temporarily allied with Michael’s armies in joint pursuit of Raziel. There were several run-ins with lower-ranked Watchers – Kokabiel, Turiel, Zaqiel – but they led nowhere. Raziel and the escaped angels proved elusive. I tried not to think about them and focused on my spiders, who were sacrificed each day to the altar of experimentation. More and more of the gentle males were being eaten by the aggressive females. The aggressive males fared much better, spreading their genes via the sixteen-legged frolic.

  I was no closer to understanding the potter’s wheel and kept confusing transcription with translation in genetics. But in ecology, I shined. I met Dr. Crane for tea the first day of May, a week before finals, three days before my birthday.

  Dr. Crane stirred sugar into her Earl Gray. “How would you like to come with me and Arietta on a fully-funded research trip to the Amazon this summer?”

  My jaw fell open. I nearly dropped my tea. “You’re kidding.”

  “Of course not.” Dr. Crane smiled. “You’d be my assistant. I can only take one undergraduate, and usually, I’d take someone with more experience, but you’re so dedicated to my lab, and I see such potential in you. I think you could benefit greatly from the trip. We’d be surveying birds in the rainforest outside Iquitos, Peru. Would you like that?”

  “I - I – yes!” I said.

  I was on cloud nine for days, so much so that I forgot my birthday entirely. It wasn’t until my mother called, jubilant, and urged me to pick up my present from the campus post office that I remembered.

  I ran into Mo at my mailbox. Before I could evade him, he trapped me in a hug, lifted me off the floor, and spun me around: “Happy birthday, womb-mate.”

  “Womb-mate?” I asked as he set me down.

  He grinned. “Like roommate. Because we’re twins.”

  “Alright then.” I smoothed my pants. “You ready for finals?”

  Mo snorted. “Sure I am. I’ve been lifting extra hard, burning calories to stimulate my brain.”

  “That’s not how it works,” I said. “Maybe you should hit your books.”

  He shrugged. “I still have the weekend.”

  “Oh my god.”

  He laughed. “What are we doing tonight?”

  “What are ‘we’ doing?” I said.

  He ran a hand through his blond hair. “You know, for our birthday? Oh c’mon. We always celebrate it together. It’s an O’Connor tradition.”

  “I don’t know. Rosanna and Divya were going to surprise me.”

  “Rosanna’s my girlfriend – I get dibs on her.” Mo looked at my package, then pried it from my grip. “Also, I get your presents. It’s the first-born tax.�
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  I snatched the package back from him. “You were born five minutes before me! That doesn’t count.”

  We fought over the package until the cardboard ripped.

  “Whoops,” Mo said.