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“YOU MUST ACCOMPANY me to Texas,” Camael said to Marrisa.
“Wait, I thought we were going to Hellam Township, Pennsylvania?” she replied.
When you were going to welcome Sariel, yes,” he replied. “But now that Priscilla has accepted him into her vessel, he is needed there, while you and I must rush to the defense of Hell’s Gate.”
“But, I don’t understand. Why can’t Priscilla and I go one place as Azrael and Sariel, and you and Carl go the other?” Marrisa insisted.
“These are Sariel’s decisions. He is the most military-minded of us all, but we need martial experience with us as well, so Azrael is the obvious choice. He has not the power I command,” Camael explained patiently.
“Uriel and Sariel are both Archangels, and Sariel is Father’s Commander. Their powers are more needed in Hellam than in Texas right now, so this is where we all must go.” The last was spoken in an I’ve explained myself now, so no more argument tone of voice, and Marrisa knew there was no point in further discussion.
“We’ll be joined by Hofniel, the Father’s favorite soldier, Arariel, who cures stupidity, and Hemah, the Angel of Wrath,” Camael explained their assignments. “Uriel and Sariel will have Cassiel, Father’s Anger and Speed, Ariel, Father’s Lion, and Adriel, the Primary angel of Death. They go against Abaddon the Destroyer, and his mob of angry humans.”
Ham had not returned from the back of the house, but there was suddenly a great shout from that direction. All present except Clara turned for the hallway just as Priscilla cartwheeled into the room.
“Mom, mom, mom,” she exclaimed. “Look, I’m fixed. I’m whole again. I can walk, and jump, and...everything,” she shouted, while demonstrating each action physically.
A knock came on the front door, and Frank’s hand snaked toward his revolver before sheepishly realizing the level of power in the room. If three Archangels and the angel of destruction couldn’t stop what might threaten them, his revolver surely wouldn’t. Going to the door, he opened it to find Carl standing on the stoop.
“Hello Carl, or is it Uriel?” Frank said, stepping back to allow him entry.
“Carl is resting now, I’m afraid all this excitement has been a bit much for him,” Uriel explained. “And I’ve brought company.”
Sergeant McElroy strode in behind Uriel, accompanied by a man and woman Frank had never met. Tamping down his suspicion, he waited for Uriel to make the introductions.
“This is the Angel Hemah,” Uriel said, indicating McElroy.
“And this is the Angel Hofniel,” he said indicating a well-built young man with quick, cat-like mannerisms.
“This fine young woman is the vessel for my welcome Sister, Arariel,” he said indicating the last of the party.
Frank looked at Hemah for a moment before simply saying, “The Angel of Wrath, huh? Most of the newbies on the force would already agree,” he said with a smile.
The light in McElroy’s eye dimmed momentarily, and McElroy said, “And when we’re done with this, they still will.”
Turning to the young woman, Frank asked, “So, who are you when you’re not hosting an angel who cures stupidity?”
Plain, clear, human eyes regarded him for a cool moment before her crisp voice said, “I’m Sharon Caruthers, and I’m a Junior High School principal.” The grin which erupted on her face told everyone she appreciated the great irony of the situation as well as they.
The young man locked eyes with Frank for a moment and said, “We’ve never met, but I have great respect for you, Lieutenant. My kid brother was one of the young boys you rescued from the pedophile no one else had been able to catch. I’m Daniel Santos, and I’m a Navy Seal.”
“Thank you Daniel, I’m glad we found your brother Fernando in time, but I had lots of help,” Frank said, indicating Clara. “And I’ll bet Hofniel is chomping at the bit to give you a test drive.”
Golden light flared in Daniel’s eyes, and he laughed. “We’ve had several interesting conversations already regarding certain techniques I promise to teach him.”
Frank wondered who was teaching whom, but didn’t have the time to ask. As he looked across the room, he noticed Marrisa and Priscilla were still locked in a warm embrace. They seemed to be whispering to each other.
“We need to leave right away, time is of the essence,” Camael said, taking charge of his team.
“Take my sedan, it’s full of gas and should take you the 300 miles easily. Use the lights and siren if required,” Frank offered to Jason. “I’ll get another vehicle.”
“I’ll be leaving mine here,” Jason replied. “You can take it to the airport.”
“Actually, we have Carl’s station wagon,” Uriel said. “The police vehicle may be needed, so we’ll take it to the airport, where we’re all catching the red ass to Philadelphia.”
Several people laughed, and Uriel looked puzzled.
“Catching the red eye is an airplane ride, catching the red ass is what we’re all about to do,” Priscilla shared. “Come on, I’ll explain it in the car.”
In less than three minutes, the house was empty except for Frank, Ham, and Clara.
Raquel had left the building again, and neither of them had any idea when she would return. Frank stepped back and closed the door, turning to Clara with a sigh of relief. She was shaking her head, and Frank went to her side.
“What is it?” he asked earnestly.
“Ham is inconsolable,” she replied. “I can feel his enmity growing with each passing second, and its misplaced target is God. Raquel has asked her Father to speak with him, but so far, nothing has happened.”
“Maybe I can talk to him,” Frank said hopefully.
“I certainly hope so,” Clara replied. “It hurts my heart to see him so morose.”
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HAM WAS SEATED FACING the picture window in Clara’s bedroom. The lights were out, and the scant illumination from the neighborhood street lights did little more than silhouetted him against the glass. His slumped shoulders and head hanging dejectedly told Frank all he needed to know.
“Ham, are you hungry? Can we go fix a sandwich? As long as it’s not a BLT, I mean.”
Frank’s effort at humor fell on deaf ears, and Ham mumbled, “Thanks, I’m not hungry.”
“Look, buddy, you may still be in a wheelchair, but how many 13-year-olds can punch somebody from across the room? Or make things fly around at will? You’ve still got your super powers, and I think they’re permanent; unlike angel possession, which is temporary.”
“I’m not upset because an angel can’t fix me, I’ve already settled into this role and I’m comfortable with it,” Ham replied dejectedly.
“Then what on earth is going on?” Frank asked brusquely. “Are you pouting because you didn’t get to go fight the bad guys? Because let me tell you, there’s plenty of them right outside, and with all the angels gone, we’re going to need your help more than ever.”
“No, it’s not that either. I’m looking forward to kicking some bad guy butt,” Ham replied, now in a monotone.
“Then tell me; what’s the matter with you, please?” Frank asked gently.
“Priscilla isn’t going to want anything to do with me, now that she can walk and all, again,” he admitted.
“What?” Frank shouted. “Is that what you’re moping around about? Boy, have you got it all wrong,” he shouted joyfully.
“What are you so happy about, and what do you mean?” Ham shouted back.
“What’s all the shouting about?” Clara called from the doorway.
“This bonehead thinks Pris isn’t going to want anything to do with him, now that she’s not in a wheelchair anymore,” Frank said with exasperation.
“Dear, he’s not a bonehead, any more than you are,” Clara chided gently. “Although he is wrong in his conclusion,” she continued, rolling across the room to stop at Ham’s side.
“Priscilla would still want to be with you if she could fly and you were totally bedridden,” Clara offered, using the most understandable analogy she could come up with.
“How do either of you know that?” Ham asked. “Oh, yeah, you’re clairvoyant.”
“I don’t need to be clairvoyant to know that Ham,” she replied. “All I have to do is look at her when you’re in the room. She’s got it bad for you, young man.”
“I’m glad you can tell, because I sure don’t see it,” Ham quipped.
“Because she looks at you the way I still look at Frank,” Clara said sweetly, looking up at her startled husband.
Ham looked up beseechingly at Frank for confirmation, who gave him a befuddled shrug. “How am I supposed to understand females?” he said. “I’m just a cop.”
Ham hung his head one more time and whispered softly, “I’m sorry, God.”
And for the second time in one evening, in one household, God spoke to one of his children.
“No need to apologize, little one, I knew you would figure it out soon enough.”
“But, why didn’t You just tell me?” Ham asked plaintively.
“You needed to hear it from one of your own kind.”
“Okay, so I get to keep my super powers?” Ham asked, getting excited.
“Absolutely, and you’re going to need them in about 20 seconds.”
“Huh?” Ham said. Turning to Frank, he said, “God told me I get to keep my super powers, and I’d need them in about 20 seconds.”
There was an explosion from the front of the house, and they all clearly heard the front door smash against the wall as it was blown open.
“I wish they’d quit doing that,” Frank said.