When I met Gabriel, I was working at a tavern in Rome in the early years of A.D., though we didn’t know that at the time. That particular morning, I had the simple task of serving travelers who were waylaid there, but as the sun reached its peak, a number of the locals arrived to enjoy spiced wine and the company of their neighbors prior to the gladiatorial bouts scheduled for that evening.
I disliked crowds on the best of days, and not just because of the raised temperature caused by the sweaty bodies or the yelling of drunken men trying to outdo one another’s tales of bravery. I could feel the force of every soul clamoring to get my attention, striking me from all directions in an assault of thought and temperament. I had to concentrate to tell which emotions belonged to the foul-smelling gentleman placing his hand a little too close to my breast.
Arena days were the worst. The throng was desperate for a taste of violence, but the men were forced to whet their appetites with drinking and dice until the amphitheater opened. The usual barrage of human emotion that flowed into me was painted red by the vicious desires of those thirsty to witness violence stronger than the cockfighting that went on in the tavern garden, most nights. The bloodthirsty thoughts wormed their way through my brain and left me with both a throbbing headache and a short temper.
I shouldn’t be working today, I thought as I delivered drinks and grapes to a table of men who complained that the tavern was far inferior to the one they usually frequented. One stated that the better place served liver and onions in addition to our more basic fare.
I picked up an empty plate from another table, and a man coughed on my hand, leaving flecks of spittle. I tried not to make a face as I wiped my hand on my tunic. I was fortunate to be immune to human disease, but that was half the reason I had come to work that day. My employer, Gnaeus, usually allowed me to stay home on arena days, but since half the staff had contracted the fever, he had begged me to come in and work. I had conceded because I hadn’t served on an arena day in so long that I’d forgotten how strong an effect the crowds had on me.
Something boiling hot dripped on my foot. I jumped and shouted in astonishment, nearly knocking over a few patrons. The new tavern girl had dropped a cup of hot water, and it had shattered on the floor, splashing me and everyone in the vicinity.
“Watch it, Julia!” I yelled. “And clean that up!”
“I’m so sorry, Cassia!” Her innocent shame washed over me as she knelt on the dusty floor to pick up the fragments, her emotion a palpable contrast to the other feelings in the tavern. Poor girl. She was only doing the best she could with the little experience she had, and I bit her head off. I needed to get out of there.
As I was making my way across the crowded tavern to tell Gnaeus that my departure was both necessary and imminent, I felt the force of an icy angelic personality overwhelm many of the minds in the room. Ordinarily, I would welcome the presence of any angel or demon in such a moment. I would far prefer to hear the distasteful machinations of an inhuman mind than ordinary humans craving a brutality far worse than any that could be imagined by a demon.
Unfortunately, one kind of powerful mind could make such a scenario worse, and that was the overpowering disdain of someone who thought that I was far baser than the vicious souls from whom I wished to separate myself.
Sure enough, I looked toward the front of the tavern and saw the Archangel Michael standing next to the bar, looking far more attractive than someone so unpleasant had any right to, with his broad shoulders and thick dark brown hair. He glanced around the room. I could hear his thoughts as if he shouted them in a voice that could drown out the bustle of a public house full of intoxicated men. Where is she? Somewhere in this cesspool, Toriel claimed. I need to find her and get her—and myself—out of here.
I didn’t know why Michael was looking for me, but I realized that I had two choices: push my way through the crowd to exit the building and force an immediate confrontation with Michael, or hide in the back of the tavern and hope he would leave soon. In retrospect, I should have chosen the former. Michael was a judgmental bastard, but his goal was the same as mine—getting me away from the building. Besides, his ability to maintain his current position in the crowd would almost certainly outlast mine, since his mind wasn’t being assailed from all directions. But at the time, I lacked the clarity to distinguish among probabilities and elected to try to wait him out.
I slipped into a corner at the back of the tavern, where I was hidden by the open door leading to the roofed garden. I cowered there for about fifteen minutes. During that time, the crowd grew and became more raucous, increasing the distraction contributing to my indecision. Eventually, the tavern got so busy that Gnaeus was forced to abandon his post to locate his wayward employee. I didn’t even notice him until he stood in front of me, gently shaking my shoulder and calling “Cassia!” for what seemed not to be the first time.
“I’m sorry,” I said, looking at him and trying to focus. “I’m sorry; I should be working. Just give me a minute…”
“Cassia, are you all right?” Oh, no, he thought. She can’t be sick now. I need her.
Heat rose to my cheeks. I had put my desire to avoid Michael ahead of my employer’s need to serve his patrons. I pushed myself away from the wall I hadn’t even realized I was leaning against and wobbled a bit before my vision steadied. “I’m all right.” I tried to give a reassuring smile, but I feared it resembled a grimace.
“Are you sure that you are not ill, Cassia?”
“No, no, I’m fine.” I stood up straighter and made what I hoped was a better attempt at a smile.
I don’t know. She looks better. And if I leave Julia out there alone, she’s going to drive off half my customers. His own desperation decided him. “Why don’t you go wait on those people over by the front entrance? I don’t think Julia has gotten to them yet.”
I held my shoulders back as I strode across the floor until I was within speaking distance of the group. At that point, I looked up to meet Michael’s ice blue eyes. His cold mind became even stronger, and for a brief span of time, the crowd was almost silenced. I saw the hazy white glow of an angel in spirit form appear over his shoulder, and he turned his focus from me to the new arrival. I stumbled as the thoughts and feelings of the humans again rose to the forefront of my mind.
I expected to fall to the dusty floor, or perhaps crack my head against a wooden chair or table, but arms appeared from nowhere and caught me. At the same time, I felt the most amazing things, like a burst of sunlight shining into the tavern: love, joy, and goodness in such purity and abundance that everything else was muted.
I clutched the arm of the man who was attempting to help me keep my feet and had time to gasp, “Don’t leave me,” before I fainted.
“… am telling you this is a bad idea, Gabriel.”
I awoke to the feel of a woolen blanket wrapped around me and a presence shining like the summer sun on my face. I was encircled by feelings of love and peace in a way that I had not been since my mother tucked me into bed as a small child, all those thousands of years ago. I thought to slip back into sleep, but the harsh, clipped voice and the wintry presence that provided a steady undercurrent to the light one dragged me into consciousness.
“Should I have left her there?” another male voice asked, a melodic baritone that blended with the sunlight suffusing the room. “She was ill, like many of the people in this town. Even if I didn’t care about her, I couldn’t leave her to infect others.”
I assumed the second voice belonged to Gabriel, whoever he was. I rolled the name around in my head, trying to remember where I had heard it.
He’s right, the cold mind thought. She does not deserve your notice, but the other people there did. “The disease is a mild one; people aren’t dying in large numbers. Besides, she doesn’t have the disease; she can’t get sick. Whatever her problem was, I’m sure the other people there could have handled it.” Great, now he’s giving me that disappointed look. Why do I always feel like I’m not living up to some standard with him? “Okay, fine, but as you have now saved her from her possibly-nefarious fate, there is no more reason to remain here.”
I felt as though a few scattered clouds drifted in front of the sun, blocking its rays.
Gabriel replied, “I need to talk to her.” She’s the only thing left in this world to give me hope.
For a moment, I almost believed that if I could stay in the presence of that light soul, so full of everything that I ever longed to feel, I could help it grow past the sadness into something even more beautiful, something that would make the world fall to its knees and marvel at its perfection.
But when the hostile speaker responded, I was jerked back into reality. “And I am telling you that you do not. Her very existence is founded on what we have been fighting for millennia.” I recognized that voice. Only one man found me so unbearably dreadful that his regard made me feel as if I had been out in the snow too long.
“Michael, please.” Gabriel’s light lowered even further under the weight of the other angel’s disapproval. “It’s been so long since someone has been able to see inside of me. I need to know whether I’m on the right course, whether I’m even who I think I am anymore.”
“You’re being absurd.” Michael’s certainty radiated from him in a cold wave, even as Gabriel’s warmth faded. “You are exactly who you have always been. Angels don’t change, and we certainly don’t question God.”
Gabriel’s amusement raised the psychic temperature of the room a bit. “The very fact that we are having this conversation yet again is sufficient evidence that you continue to believe it. And perhaps you are right. Perhaps I have no choice but to continue my existence as I always have. But it’s been so long since someone has been able to tell me anything about myself. Lucifer is the only one with that power, and he’s no longer available for consultation.”
“Exactly. The power to see inside of others is now associated with the adversary. We all appreciated it when we had it available, but those days are gone.” Michael’s voice rose with increased vehemence. “Her continued existence comes only from Lucifer’s machinations, and since she is in possession of a gift that previously only he possessed, he must have bequeathed it upon her in order to bring evil into this world…”
I had argued more than once with Michael over his insistence that I was a creation of Lucifer’s. I had no evidence one way or the other. No one knew the limits of Lucifer’s power, only that it exceeded that of every other angel. I had been forced to admit a long time ago that Michael could be right and that I had been forsworn by Heaven. But I was also well aware that it didn’t matter whether I was slated for Heaven or Hell. Long after the last battle, I would still be forced to walk the earth alone. Michael, however, saw my attitude as further proof of my intrinsic corruption, since in his mind, any decent human sought Heaven above all else.
“… and those of us still on the side of light have spent all of our time trying to squelch the iniquity in which mankind repeatedly engages. Long ago the blood of an entire village stained her soul, and she has done nothing to wash it out…”
I rather wondered at Michael’s ability to make those tiresome speeches. As the second most powerful angel in all of creation—one of the three archangels, along with Gabriel and Lucifer—he could order everyone to listen to his orations, and they would be forced to obey. But I would have thought that after so many millennia of listening to the same things over and over, someone would have had the courtesy to inform him that he sounded pompous and overbearing, not to mention increasingly tedious. Maybe angels, who unlike me had been designed to live eternally, were less interested in economy of language. Regardless, I had only seen one individual besides myself interrupt Michael when he got on his high horse.
“… behaves with disrespect toward the highest-ranking members of the host, willfully consorts with demons…”
I’d had enough of listening to the catalogue of my failures in the eyes of Heaven’s chief enforcer. “I consort with a demon. One. Singular. And he at least has the decency not to malign my character in my presence.”
The astonished silence that followed was more pronounced than my response warranted. Then I remembered that, as far as the arguing archangels knew, I had been unconscious. Sometimes I got so caught up in other people’s discussions and emotions that I forgot I was not actively participating in the conversation, at least not from their perspectives. I sat up and tried to scowl at Michael, who was leaning against the wall by the arm of the sofa I lay on, but Gabriel was providing the room with such a soothing ambience that I found it difficult to hold the expression.
I regretted my words when I realized my chastisement had caused Gabriel’s light to lessen a little bit more. I turned to capture my first glimpse of the archangel. All angels are good-looking, of course. And maybe I was influenced by the fact that I found his soul incomparably beautiful, but it seemed to me that there was a special attractiveness to his features as well. The Greeks and Romans of the recent ages had fashioned their gods primarily upon the behavior of the demonic, but I was sure they had chosen the appearance of their most stunning deities from the visage of Gabriel. Pale golden curls fell around the curves of his face, which managed to be both gentle and strong, and his cornflower blue eyes displayed none of the coldness I had come to expect from his fellows. He stood in front of a window facing west, and the setting sun provided backlight at the right angle to make him appear to have a halo like angels of legends.
“I apologize for our behavior.” As Gabriel spoke, I realized his facial expressions, words, and thoughts were in complete accord with each other. Most people tempered their words into something more socially acceptable than their thoughts, but Gabriel seemed to have no such need. “It was unconscionable for us to speak so. My name is Gabriel, and I believe you know Michael.”
“I’m Cassia. And I didn’t mean to imply any offense. I’m grateful to you for getting me away from the mob.”
The corners of Gabriel’s mouth turned upward. “It was nothing, really. You were clearly suffering. I’m sure anyone would have done the same.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
She’s trying to charm him, wicked temptress that she is. Michael’s hostility was so intense that I could have felt his glare boring into my head even if I didn’t have oracular vision. She knows as well as I that most people can’t be bothered to help anyone but themselves. And that’s to speak nothing of wasting the intervention of an angel on one suffering girl, especially one such as her.
Michael was right, much as I hated to admit it—about humanity, not about me being a wicked temptress. Most people couldn’t stop focusing on their own woes long enough to see someone else’s distress, much less bother to help. But at that moment, I really wanted to believe what Gabriel believed, that people were unfailingly good and helpful. Besides, even if my firsthand experience inside others’ heads prevented me from embracing his optimistic view of mankind, I couldn’t bear to be the person who did anything to scar the archangel’s bright and buoyant spirit. “You wanted to talk to me?”
“No,” Michael’s tone brooked no opposition. “In fact, we have already spent more than enough time here. We have extremely important matters afoot, and Gabriel and I both have responsibilities.”
“I’m staying here, Michael.” Gabriel’s voice displayed none of the steely resolve of Michael’s, but I knew he was not going to be persuaded to back down from his decision. “I need to talk to her. I’ll—”
“Michael!”
I didn’t recognize the newcomer, whose mind struck me as resembling a firework with bits of energy shooting off in all directions. His physical form was younger than that of other angels I had met; he appeared to be in his late teens. But like every other angel, he was beautiful, with curly red-gold hair and large blue eyes. He must have been millennia older than I was, but he had an innocent childlike air about him that made me feel every one of my six thousand jaded years.
At the moment, however, the angel was red-faced with hysteria. “You have to help me! You have to make him stop! I can’t do what I’m supposed to if he keeps interrupting!”
“Raphael, what are you doing here?” Michael asked. And how many more things are going to go wrong today? We are in the middle of the most important event in history! This is no time for Gabriel to neglect his duties, and it’s definitely no time for Raphael to prove his incompetence.
“I tried to do what you said!” Tears formed at the corners of Raphael’s eyes. “I delivered the Good News to some people so they would know that salvation is at hand. But he kept interfering, and I couldn’t make him stop, and I don’t know what to do.”
A laughing presence materialized next to me. “Khet, Khet, Khet, Khet, Khet!”
“Bedlam!” I wrapped my arms around my friend. I leaned my head on his shoulder and felt the light wool of his toga rub against my cheek. “I missed you.”
Touch always increases my sense of a person, and I had long sought refuge from the world by engulfing myself in the maelstrom of Bedlam’s thoughts. The familiar cacophony calmed me. Gabriel’s emotions were pleasurable, but there was something even more satisfying about being near my oldest friend and immersing myself in his thoughts. I should have figured out a way to get some camels into the scene. Nothing says “birth of our Lord” like camels.
“Bedlam!” Michael echoed my cry as he concluded that Bedlam was the “he” that had driven Raphael to tears. “I should have known that you would be interfering in the Lord’s work. Get thee behind me, fiend!”
“Points for the melodrama, Michael, but I must point out that you are wrong on two counts,” Bedlam said. “Well, I’m sure you are wrong on scads of things. But I am going to do you a favor and only discuss the two that are relevant at the moment. First, I am not a fiend anymore; Belsy officially kicked me out of his society a few centuries back. Since no one else would take me, I now identify as an unclassified demon. Or you know, fallen angel, which is the term I have always preferred. Second… I’ve forgotten second. What was second?” He looked to me for an answer.
“You were helping,” I replied, reminding him of what had been in his thoughts. Then I realized what I had just said. “Wait. You were helping?”
“No!” Raphael wailed. “He was ruining everything! I was just trying to bring tidings of joy to some shepherds—”
“And that was your first mistake,” Bedlam said. “I mean, seriously, shepherds? You have literally the biggest news of all time, that the Son of God is finally coming to earth to redeem humanity from their sins. You might or might not recall the giant war we fought over the issue a few thousand years back. One would think that you would want a lot of people to know about this. So what do you do? Go to the most populous location you can think of? Inform the people most likely to spread the word? No. You go visit three people who spend most of their lives alone with sheep and tell them. That’s not even going to get a decent rumor started.”
“I was looking for people pure of heart!” Raphael wrung his hands. “But I don’t know who’s pure of heart. No one but Lucifer can see into people’s hearts. I told you I didn’t know what I was doing.”
Bedlam shook his head. “And let’s pretend for a minute that these shepherds are the best people to relay this information to. You have to present it better. I mean, I can see going with the overly preachy language to emphasize the import, but why send only one little angel? You have to get a whole chorus going.”
I nodded. That made sense to me, but then, I could feel the sincerity radiating off Bedlam. Michael’s face, on the other hand, was growing redder by the minute.
Gabriel’s eyes looked as though they might pop out of his head. “What did you do, Bedlam?”
Bedlam shrugged. “I just added a few angels flying in the sky. And they sang happy things. Gloria in excelsis Deo and such. Totally in keeping with the theme.”
“But angels don’t have wings!” Raphael’s voice raised in pitch at every word until he was close to shrieking.
“People don’t know that, Raph.” Bedlam patted the frazzled angel on the shoulder. “I was just trying to encourage the whole image where angels and Heaven are up in the sky. It’s way more appealing than going into the ground when you die. Trust me on this one. Anyway, I then realized that it was totally pointless of you to make this announcement without giving people directions, so I put a star over the stable and told them to head that way if they wanted to see him.”
“You did what?” The icy force of Michael’s wrath stung my face and drowned out everything else. “I should have expected something like this of you. Even Lucifer had the decency to agree to neutrality for thirty years after the birth. But you had to prove that you don’t listen to anyone… yet again.”
I clung tighter to Bedlam, trying to shut out the anger.
Huh. I didn’t think it was that big a deal. Maybe I shouldn’t have done it… but I’ll never admit that to him. “Dear gods, Michael. Don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit?”
“Gods?” Michael asked, ever oblivious to attempts at baiting him. “Have you fallen so low that you do not even acknowledge the One True God anymore?”
“When in Rome.” Bedlam’s self-satisfied smirk would have made anyone want to slap it off his face, and he aimed it at Michael.
“You miserable demon.” Michael advanced on Bedlam, causing both of us to lean back. “The Archdemons may have set themselves up as demigods in this heathen society, but to liken them to He whom I serve is unconscionable. Would that I could cast you someplace even lower than the pit for the constant blasphemy of your mere existence!”
“They worship you too, you know,” Bedlam said. “They just think you have a lightning bolt instead of a flaming sword. And that you’re a serial rapist. Any comments on that?”
From the look on Michael’s face, I could have sworn he was actually going to hit Bedlam.
The smile fell from the demon’s face, and he opened his black eyes wide. He held up both hands. “Mercy.”
He looked perfectly sincere, but he was only goading Michael further. I tried warning, “Bedlam…”
A wave of cold fury emanated from Michael, dropping the temperature in the room. I shivered and pulled away from Bedlam to wrap my arms around my chest.
Michael glared at the demon, his blue eyes like sharp icicles. “Much as I would love to continue to discuss your ever-increasing desecration of all that is decent, I apparently have some miracles to manage. Come along, Raphael. Gabriel, I trust that you’ve seen the error of your ways and will also be reporting to me shortly.” With a final glance at each of his colleagues, Michael disappeared.
Raphael looked confused for a moment and then followed.
Bedlam shook his head. “What was that all about?”
I tried to give him a stern look. “You didn’t have to provoke him, you know. He might not hate you so much if you didn’t repeatedly antagonize him.”
Bedlam laughed, but there wasn’t any joy in it. “Don’t kid yourself. Michael and I have never been able to stand one another, and I don’t see that changing in the near future. Or distant future. Or any future, except maybe one where everything was the opposite of the way it is now. But then, Michael would be a demon, which would almost certainly make his head explode. So it would really just be me not hating his memory, not us not hating each other.”
He cocked his head to the side. Hmm. But if everything were the opposite of the way it is, the sky would be the ground, and we couldn’t walk on it. And snow would be hot and would have to melt itself, unless boiling was freezing, but at some point, wouldn’t that make everything exactly the same as it is now, instead of opposite?
I poked his arm. “Did you have a point in there somewhere?”
“Maybe?” He thought for a second. “Oh, right, I was wondering why he was so upset about the star thing.”
“Because now the unrighteous know where God’s Son is,” Gabriel said. “Think about it. We want the world to know that the Son of God is coming to earth to save mankind from its sins. We want the faithful to be able to prepare. However, we are not so naïve as to think that everyone will accept the news graciously. People who don’t understand will see Him as a threat to their power or a means to gain things for themselves. He’s just a baby right now. He can’t defend Himself or understand what He is. Until He’s older, He needs to appear to be a normal baby with a normal family. You just broadcasted His location to the known world.”
“Oh. I don’t know why Michael didn’t just say that. I’ll be right back.” Bedlam disappeared and then reappeared almost immediately. “There, it’s gone now. No permanent damage done. Probably.”
He grinned at me and was about to say something, but he got distracted by recognizing— “Gabriel!” He ran over and hugged the very surprised angel. “I haven’t seen you in forever! How have you been? What are you doing here?”
Gabriel raised his eyebrows as he pulled away. “I might ask you the same question.”
“Which question? How have I been, or what am I doing here?” Bedlam laughed, ignoring Gabriel’s reluctance to interact with him.
Bedlam had told me long ago that he had never been especially popular among his fellow angels, even before he decided to assist Lucifer in his rebellion, so he generally didn’t let it bother him. By his standards, Gabriel’s cautious aloofness was akin to offering up his firstborn.
Bedlam continued, “I came to tell my good friend Khet here about my assistance in Heaven’s ultimate plan. And, you know, to mock Raphael’s pathetic attempts at mass communication. I definitely wasn’t expecting you or Michael to be here.”
“Well, I don’t think he was expecting to be here either,” Gabriel said. “He knew that I was trying to find the Oracle, and I think he wanted to head me off.”
“Seriously?” Bedlam looked over at me, bemused. “Michael hates you so much that he takes a break from his all-important plans just to stop someone from talking to you?”
“Yes, well…”
Bedlam shook his head and turned to face Gabriel. “So what are you doing here, Gabs? Interested in joining the proud few who stand against the almighty leader of the host?”
“He’s not rebelling, Bedlam.” I addressed the demon, but I watched the archangel. “He wants peace and hope and mercy and light and all those good things that Heaven claims to stand for. He’s just not sure that he’s been effectively implementing all those values.”
Gabriel’s eyes widened as he stood up straighter. “You can tell all that just looking at me? You really do have Lucifer’s power.” I had heard… but I didn’t really believe… I know Michael could be right. She could be evil, especially if she has affection for one of Lucifer’s more notorious minions. But if there’s even a chance that she isn’t, don’t we have to take it?
I tried to put as much sincerity in my words as I could. “I don’t know where the power comes from. And I can’t speak to its similarity to Lucifer’s. I certainly don’t have all the answers; I can’t tell you anything except what’s already inside of you. But if you tell me your story, I will tell you what I see.”
Gabriel took a deep breath and began to speak.