by T. R. Hamby
That was all gone. It was truly all gone.
It was late in the night when he finally closed the laptop and left the study. The three couples were in the living area, talking quietly. All of them hushed when they saw him. He ignored them, and went to his room.
He hadn’t wanted to come down. He hadn’t wanted to be reminded of the loss of his family, and he was more than reluctant to work with the people who had inadvertently gotten him killed.
But the Existence of evil creatures was what had finally convinced him. Not only were they after an innocent group of people, but also, what would happen after they succeeded? How many people would they kill after the Kings were gone? Would God allow them to ravage the earth? Or would God simply do that himself, once the Kings were out of the way?
He had to help. As angry as he was, as grief-stricken, he had to help. He had to help the Kings, and he had to help Them.
Besides….now he had a chance for revenge.
Ceres, I am coming, he vowed.
Michael
Michael….Michael….
He was on the peak of the mountain, sitting in the grass under a warm sun. Down below he could see the house--a castle hewn out of the mountainside. And then trees, so many tall trees.
The scene blurred a little, and he shook his head, confused.
Michael….
Beside him was Mel, staring contentedly out at the horizon. He was wearing odd clothes--a sort of smock, and baggy pants. Michael looked down at himself and realized he was wearing the same thing.
Then he looked up, and, without any control over himself, said, “Beautiful.”
Mel looked at him and smiled. “Yes.”
“And to think….this was all Created….”
Now Mel looked bemused. “What are you on about, brother?”
He shrugged. “Our mother and father Created all this….and for what?”
Mel shifted uncomfortably. “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.”
Michael looked at him. His heart was suddenly pounding, humming in his chest, and his fingers twitched.
“I regret this,” he said, and then he thrust forward, grabbing Mel around the throat and shoving him to the ground.
Michael….
Mel looked shocked, and he kneed him, and the two rolled. But Michael was squeezing--no, why was he squeezing?--and he threw Mel back to the ground….Mel was turning blue….he was struggling madly….no….stop….
He finally stopped moving, and Michael sat back, panting. Mel lay there, his blue eyes staring….
Michael opened his eyes, his heart racing. It was dark--still nighttime. Gilla was behind him, squeezing his arm.
Michael….
The voice was so distant it was practically a hiss.
“Bad dream?” Gilla murmured quietly.
He nodded shakily. “Yeah.”
“Like the one before?”
He nodded, turning on the lamp and sitting up. “But Mel was in it,” he murmured. “I killed him. I strangled him.”
He held his head in his hands for a moment, trying to slow his breathing. “It was so real.”
She rubbed his arms soothingly. “It’s over now.”
“I don’t get it. I don’t have dreams like these.”
She was wary. “You would never kill Mel.”
“No--never.”
“And you would never hurt an innocent woman.”
Michael’s thoughts were whirling. “I couldn’t control myself. What if it’s a premonition--something’s going to possess me--Father’s going to possess me--”
Gilla shushed him. “Shh. That’s not going to happen. It’s just stress, that’s all.”
And she held him.
It took some time for his heart to finally slow. Images of Mel’s death flashed through his mind. It made him feel sick, and he laid his head on Gilla’s shoulder.
He would never kill Mel. Never. But then, he remembered: He couldn’t kill Mel anyway. He certainly couldn’t strangle him--Angels couldn’t be killed that way--and neither a Blade nor fire could end him.
It had just been a nightmare.
They lay back down, turning the lamp off and facing each other. He could barely see her in the darkness.
“How are you?” he murmured, tracing his fingers along her waist.
They had been so exhausted earlier that they hadn’t had time to talk before falling asleep.
Gilla shrugged. “I don’t know….it’s been so much. And now Andreas is here.”
“Yeah.”
She sighed. “I can’t believe Ceres killed him. I can’t believe we didn’t know.”
They were quiet a moment, holding each other.
Michael didn’t know what to say. He felt immense guilt over what had happened to Andreas. He remembered meeting him at the wedding, how laid-back and jovial he had been. He had clearly enjoyed life. Now he had lost it, and it was their fault, in a way.
No. It was Father’s fault. He had sent Ceres to find them, and she had come across Andreas.
“What are you thinking about?” Gilla whispered, trailing her fingers down his chest.
His skin burned where she touched him. “My Father.”
“Don’t,” she replied.
He was more than happy to follow her orders. He kissed her, and she sighed, drawing close. She kissed him hard, running her fingers through his hair, and he slipped his hands beneath her shirt. She turned onto her back, and he followed, touching her breasts. She tugged her shirt off and arched her back, moaning.
He longed to see her, so he leaned over and turned the lamp back on.
“Michael!” she exclaimed, laughing.
He grinned, so happy to hear her laugh. “I have to look at you.”
She blushed, smiling, and slipped her arms over her head, naked except for the pair of boxers she had stolen from his bureau.
God, she was beautiful.
“Come here,” she said, and he leaned over her, kissing her, feeling her hands roam hot over his body.
He yanked the underwear off of both of them, lay down and kissed between her legs. She immediately writhed, letting out quiet moans. They were like this for a while before she tugged on his arm.
“Come here,” she breathed, lapsing into Swedish.
Michael grinned. They both hissed as he eased into her. Michael was gentle, slow, and Gilla let out a little growl. She rolled them over, using her strength, and Michael laughed. But then he moaned, holding her hips as she moved above him.
He raised up and held her, moving with her, until they were swearing, moaning, and then stifling cries of pleasure.
Then they were lying down again, holding each other and laughing quietly. Michael felt better, and he could tell Gilla did, too. They talked for a while, about good things, before falling asleep again.
He woke early in the morning. The sun was just starting to peep through the trees. He quietly got dressed and left to make Gilla some coffee. He poked his head in Gabriel and Barry’s room first, saw Gabriel was asleep, and went downstairs. He had to check.
Coffee had already been made. Mel was leaning on the counter, sipping on a cup, looking brooding. Michael remembered Andreas, and his high from last night soured a little.
“Morning,” he said, fixing a cup for Gilla.
“Morning.”
Michael looked at him, then at Andreas’ room. “How long have you been up?”
“Most of the night,” Mel replied, glowering at his coffee. “I’ve already had four of these.”
“Are they working?”
“No.”
“You should be sleeping.”
Mel shrugged.
Michael hesitated, his dream flashing through his mind again.
He turned to face him, leaning against the counter. “I had a dream.”
Mel looked at him, frowning. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I was strangling you.”
Mel managed a chuckle. “I imagine that’s not the first time you dreamt that.�
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“Believe it or not, it is. I’ve never fantasized about killing you,” he replied, an edge to his voice.
Mel looked troubled, and nodded. “Right. I’m sorry.”
Michael took a steadying breath. “I’ve never dreamed like this before….and this is the second. The first dream I had, I Created a woman, and then I attacked her.”
Now Mel looked disturbed. “You Created a woman and attacked her?”
Michael nodded, feeling ashamed, even though he hadn’t done such a thing….had he?
Mel finally sighed. “We’re all stressed. Very stressed.”
“I don’t know.”
“You would never hurt me,” Mel said firmly.
Michael avoided his gaze. He had already hurt him once, in the worst of ways. What if he was willing to do it again?
“Hey,” Mel said, and Michael looked at him. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll just make the dreams worse. Do you have them every night?”
“No.”
“There. If they meant anything, you’d be having them every time you slept. It’s just stress.”
“I hear Father’s voice while I dream.”
A pause.
Mel looked at him, nervous. “You should have led with that.”
“I didn’t want to think about it.”
Mel considered his coffee, his jaw working. “He’s probably trying to contact you.”
“And the dreams are coincidence?”
“What else could they be?”
They were quiet a moment. Michael still wasn’t sure--not sure at all--but he decided to leave it alone for the time being. Besides, there were more important things at hand.
He looked at Mel. “When are we talking to Roone?”
He hadn’t seen Roone since Hudson’s interview yesterday, though he could hear him moving around in his bedroom. He had been moping around all week, having finally accepted that he had been delusional all this time. Michael felt a hint of pity for him--he had no idea what he would have done if it had been him instead.
But it didn’t change what he had done to Nora, and the thought of having him on their side made Michael nauseous.
Mel looked to be feeling the same way. The air cooled, and his eyes darkened.
He looked at him. “Better get it over with.”
“Now, then?” Michael suggested, though that was the last thing he wanted to do so early in the morning.
Mel shrugged, and both heaved sighs. Mel drained his coffee, and the two went to Roone’s bedroom door.
Michael knocked. There was a long pause, before a quiet voice said from inside, “It’s open.”
The two entered. Roone was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking drawn and confused.
“What is it?” he asked, frowning.
Michael and Mel looked at each other. It was clear neither wanted to speak first. Mel was tense, and Michael knew he was trying to control his anger.
“Is it Nora?” Roone suddenly said, going pale. “She’s hurt?”
“Nora’s fine,” Michael said. “This isn’t about her.”
He relaxed. “You want me to leave,” he said, almost in a whisper.
“Will you leave?” Mel asked hopefully.
Roone shrugged, though his face was anguished. “I don’t really have anywhere to go.”
“Five hundred years on the planet, and you have no place to go?” Mel said dryly.
“Making friends has always been difficult for me.”
Michael sighed. They would have to ask him to help, then. He wasn’t in a good state; if they kicked him out, he might hurt himself. Michael could tell--his bare arms bore many scars.
Mel seemed to notice them too, and his expression darkened.
He heaved a sigh. “Those….things you saw, that were attacking us. Those Demons? They’re still after us.”
“I figured that when we moved here,” Roone replied, raising an eyebrow.
“Are you trying to make this difficult?”
“Make what difficult?”
“We’re asking for your help,” Michael said, before the two could get into it.
Roone looked at him, stunned.
He didn’t reply, so Michael continued, “Look. None of us want you here. That’s honest. But we need you. Your Talent is strong, and we could use all the help we can get.”
“There were six of them. It’s an even match.”
“For now. Father could be Raising more as we speak.”
“How many people can you reach with your Talent?” Mel asked.
Roone thought. “Two at least. But that’s only if there’s no one else in the way.”
“That’s not bad.”
Roone looked incredulous. “You seriously want me.”
“We need you,” Michael said. “We don’t want you.”
Roone studied his hands. They were quiet for a long moment.
Finally he looked up and said, “All right. If it means protecting Nora.”
“This has nothing to do with Nora,” Mel growled, and the air grew colder.
Roone shivered, shifting away, and Mel turned away, trying to get his anger under control.
When the temperature shifted upwards Michael looked at Roone. “You’re not talking to Nora, you’re not looking at Nora, you’re not breathing near Nora. Understand?”
Roone nodded firmly. “Yes.”
Michael couldn’t help but frown. “Just like that?”
“I don’t want to hurt her anymore.”
“Good,” Mel said, turning to face him, “because you’ve done enough.”
Roone looked pained, and he avoided his gaze.
“We start training today,” Michael said quietly.
He didn’t know what else to say. Roone looked almost overcome with remorse, and Michael felt a horrible pang, knowing he could relate to him. He too had done something horrific, and had spent the last 200,000 years paying for it.
He was still paying for it, and always would be. Maybe he and Mel were on good terms now, but there was no way Mel could ever forgive him for what he had done.
They left the room, and Mel looked at him, seeming to sense his sour mood.
He shrugged. “Hopefully Nora’s right.”
“Yeah.”
Michael took the cold cup of coffee on the counter and washed it out in the sink. All the while he heard Mel’s screams in his head, could see Agatha sobbing, raising her hand before Lilith’s pale face….
“What is it?” Mel asked.
Michael felt an ache, hearing his brother’s concern for him. As if nothing had happened.
“Nothing,” he replied, pouring a fresh cup of coffee.
Mel was quiet, standing behind him as he fussed with the coffeepot.
After a moment, in which Michael finally turned around, he said, “I won’t….get mad. If you want to….talk.”
He was frowning at the floor.
Michael ground his teeth together. Not long ago the idea that Mel would offer to listen to Michael’s worries would have been outlandish. Now here they were.
He cleared his throat. “It’s nothing. We’ll be down in a bit.”
And he left him in the kitchen.
It was Gilla who brought him some comfort. He told her his worries, and she held him again. She didn’t say anything, which he appreciated--nothing could be said. He laid his head on her chest and listened to her heart beat, and she stroked his back soothingly.
They had breakfast. Nora, Mel and Barry cooked. Gabriel sat beside Michael, which Michael appreciated, knowing that his son’s life was in grave danger now. They talked for a while about Roone and Andreas, while Gilla listened.
Then Roone’s door opened, and everyone paused. He came out, wearing his typical outfit--his only outfit, Michael realized with a jolt--and entered the living area. They watched him sit alone at the end of the sofa.
Michael instantly looked at Nora, who looked a little pale. But she shook herself and returned to the eggs. Mel murmured to her, and
she nodded firmly.
By the time breakfast was ready Andreas arrived. He was also wearing his only outfit, and looked tired.
He paused by the sofa, frowning at Roone. “I’m sorry--and you are?”
Roone looked just as surprised to see him. “Roone Harrison.”
“Roone Harrison. You’re an Angel too.”
“Yes.”
He stuck out a hand, and Michael stifled a groan. “Andreas Berg. Former human.”
Roone looked mystified, but shook his hand. “Okay.”
“They didn’t tell you?” Andreas asked, looking at the rest of them.
“I don’t get much information here.”
Andreas frowned, and Nora gestured for him to come nearer.
“We’ll talk about that later,” Michael heard her whisper, and Andreas nodded, frowning.
“And we’ll order you some clothes,” she continued as breakfast was served. “You can wear Mel’s until they get here. You’re the same size.”
“Don’t I know it,” Andreas said, and Mel choked on his coffee.
Michael wasn’t sure what that was about, but once Mel was done coughing he said, “So after breakfast we’ll start. How far out was that clearing?”
“About a quarter of a mile,” Gabriel said. “Some of the snowmen are still left over.”
“Those are good,” Mel said hoarsely. “We can use them as target practice.”
“There’s enough space for all of us?” Nora, who was bright pink, asked.
“Definitely,” Barry replied. “It’s the size of a football field.”
“So it’s more of a field than a clearing,” Mel said dryly.
“Let’s do it this way,” Nora said. “Mel and Andreas, you work with each other, get those Talents working. Gilla and I will train together, and Barry and Gabriel will train together….”
She trailed off, and Michael knew she was hesitant to place Roone with him--to place Roone with anybody.
They all looked at him--some boldly, some furtively--and he suddenly looked nervous.
“I can’t fight,” he said quietly. “I never learned.”
“What?” Mel breathed.
Roone looked ashamed. “No one….wanted to teach me. They figured my Talent was enough.”
There was a silence. Andreas looked bemused.
Michael sighed. So now their asset couldn’t even hold a sword. Fucking typical.
