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We’re in your favorite place.
Irdu’s text made a lot more sense to Ronnie after she talked to Michael. Almost the same phrasing as Michael, but with a very different meaning. Ronnie spilled through fragments of thought, forcing order into the chaos that was her brain, and pulled out which places she’d been to the most while using the Ubiquity Tracker app.
Las Vegas. Without question. Except that left a huge territory for her to cover, even if she stuck to the tourist spots. She phased to the south end of the strip. Despite assuming her physical form, she kept a tiny shield around herself, to distract people and motivate them to look anywhere but at her.
She scanned the faces of the crowds. The swatch of people and emotions threatened to distract and overwhelm her. There was no way she could pick two angels out of this. And then she saw the giant banner on the side of a pyramid-shaped building. Criss Angel. Believe.
She cut a straight path toward the Luxor, and paused inside the main entrance to figure out which way the restaurants were. Moments later, she found the food court, and two familiar glows sitting at a table near the frozen-yogurt shop. Tia wore a Luxor hat pulled low over her eyes and kept her gaze focused on a half-melted cup of fro-yo. Apparently Ronnie wasn’t the only person hiding.
Irdu looked up as she approached, and met her halfway. “I’m glad you found us.” He crushed his mouth to hers.
The kiss settled her thoughts for the few seconds it lasted. When he broke away, he tangled his fingers with hers.
She didn’t want to be abrupt, but given how quickly things were escalating, she didn’t see an alternative. “I’m more sorry than you know, and you don’t have to forgive me, but I need to know now if we have the same goals or if we’re going our separate ways.”
“Why would we leave you?” Irdu asked.
“I cost you your jobs and made you fugitives. I can’t guarantee it, but I’m pretty sure if you went back to hell right now and told Lucifer it was a mistake to trust me, he’d take care of you.”
Tia looked up, lips pursed. “He’s the one who fired us.”
“For working for me,” Ronnie said. She drifted her attention around the food court and landed on a group of five people, pointing and chatting with their heads bent together. When she made eye-contact with one of them, he jerked his gaze away, said something to his friends, and they all left. Weird. She was all over the news, but the shield she radiated should keep anyone from caring Ronnie was there. The situation must be screwing with her focus. She poured a little more effort into diluting their presence.
Irdu pulled her closer, and drew his nose along her jaw to kiss her cheek. “We never did anything we didn’t want to. We saw your resignation video, though. The entire world has seen it at this point. You were right to do that, whatever your reasons. And we’re all on the same page. You have to already know I’m not walking away from you.”
“Me neither.” Tia nodded. “I’m in for whatever. I always have been.”
She wanted to sob with relief. She settled for pulling up a seat at their table. “Thank you.” Something flashed out of the corner of her eye, and she turned in time to see someone dropping a camera in her purse and trying not to make eye contact with her. “I’m glad the two of you got out before SWAT or whatever kicked in your doors.”
Ronnie glanced around them. Every third or fourth pocket of people seemed to be staring at them. Pointing. Grabbing cameras. Whispering. She looked behind her, to locate an attraction she might have missed on her way in. Nope. Just more food court. The crowds couldn’t be looking at her, Irdu, and Tia. Her shields should convince them the three were the most bland, non-interesting things in existence. Not worth a glance, let alone a murmur and a photo.
“We need to go.” Maybe Ronnie was just being paranoid, but adrenaline coursed through her, amplified by a series of off-the-cuff actions that had driven her all morning, and she couldn’t ignore the hum of anxiety. When she stood and made her way toward the main hotel, Irdu and Tia followed, falling into step beside her. They needed to meet Michael, so it wasn’t as if she was running. They were on a schedule.
For the first time since she could remember, she searched for a remote place, out of the public eye, to phase from. It shouldn’t matter if they stood in the middle of a stadium full of people; no one should see them come and go. Another couple turned and watched them walk past, and Ronnie clenched her fist by her side. She found a quiet corner in the lobby, tucked away from view of anyone, and took Tia’s and Irdu’s hands.
“Where are we going?” Irdu asked.
In the time it took her to register his question, their surroundings vanished and were replaced with sand and a crumbling temple.
“Israel,” she said.
“You were right.” A familiar voice she couldn’t place made Ronnie whirl.
Michael stood a few feet away, next to a man in a black jacket, matching slacks, and a white button-down shirt, topped with a kippah and tallit—skullcap and prayer shawl. A rabbi. He wore a faint glow. Ronnie met him once, many months ago, when she was trying to figure out who she was, and why Metatron lived in her head. Relief flooded her at the friendly faces, and she crossed the distance to Michael in a few short steps.
When she threw her arms around his neck, he squeezed back. “I’m glad you’re all safe.” His words echoed her thoughts.
She wished it were that easy. That this were the last stage of an exhausting journey. Too bad that wasn’t the case.
* * * *
MICHAEL SAT NEXT TO Ronnie, who was half in Irdu’s lap, on the couch in the rabbi’s apartment. It felt natural to have her heat here, mingling with his aura, despite the fact she was flashing like emergency lights on a snowy night. Tiamet took a chair at the kitchen table, which was only a few feet away.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Ronnie said.
“For you, anything.” The rabbi gave a nodding bow, then went to the fridge. “Can I get any of you drinks? New identities?”
Ronnie chuckled. “We’re okay for now. Thank you.” She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “You seem to know me. We’ve met before, but we weren’t introduced.”
“Of course. I’m Sandalphon.” He extended his hand, and she shook it. “Del, if you prefer.”
Sandalphon was another fallen angel who had acquired a cherub and used the bond to extend his life. Michael had helped him through the transition, and Sandalphon helped people far more as a rabbi than he was able to as an angel.
“I do. And it’s nice to finally meet you. Izzy talks about you all the time.” Despite Ronnie’s pleasant tone, red and black continued to intertwine around her.
The demons she brought with her fared far worse, surrounded by a fractured array of peach and blue. Their auras seemed to feed each other. When Tiamet’s clashed, Irdu’s would flare as well. When his smoothed out, so did hers.
Michael had never seen such a thing. A curiosity for another time. “I wish we had time for catching up and getting to know each other, but a few of us have gone from nobodies to terrorist suspects in a matter of hours. We need to get to a point, information-wise, where we can act instead of reacting. What do we know?”
“Cable news made us famous.” Tiamet smirked, and sarcasm peppered her response.
It was as good a starting point as any. “Why?” He left the question vague on purpose. None of them knew, but if enough different views were tossed out, they’d get somewhere.
“Because of me.”
Despite Ronnie being right next to him, Michael had to strain to hear her response.
Irdu shook his head. “Because of assholes who aren’t in this room.”
Since the fight in Moscow and Ronnie’s reaction to being called an impostor, Michael had watched her slide further into a pit of defensive self-pity. He’d hoped their conversation this morning knocked her out of whatever brought this on, but that didn’t seem to be the case. He turned and put enough distance between them that he could look at her and not feel the pulse of her energy. “Do you know what one of Gabriel’s biggest flaws is?”
“He’s a megalomaniacal asshole?” Ronnie said.
“Well, yes.” Michael couldn’t have summed it up better, but it also didn’t make his point. “But to look at it more in depth, he thinks he deserves something because he’s an original. He’s always held the belief that being created first entitles him to more. The problem is, so many of us believe it’s true—about him—he gets away with the attitude.”
Ronnie twisted her mouth in irritation. “Lucky bastard. Maybe I can learn something from him after all.”
“Or perhaps you shouldn’t think that way. None of us is owed any sort of special privilege. We don’t get an award for being one of the first four. Yes, we have responsibilities and skills that are unique—naming cherubs and ruling our own corners of the kingdoms. But every agent, from heaven or hell, has something. We’re not owed worship or followers.”
The way her lips drew into a thin line and her brow knit together told him this wasn’t the right way to approach the situation. He grasped for something else. “Why did Samael follow Lucifer to hell?”
“Because of love.” Frustration filled Ronnie’s words. “And thousands of years down the line, look where that’s gotten all of us. I think we’re off-topic.”
“Because of adoration. Respect. Everybody who left with him did it out of respect. I still don’t know why you stayed in heaven.”
The furrow of her brows deepened, as if she was considering the statement. “Same reason I resigned this morning—I’ve never agreed with his tactics. But things weren’t like this when I was Metatron. We weren’t focused on amassing armies of followers, to undercut each other. Or ...” She sighed.
“What?” Michael prompted.
“Maybe Gabriel and Lucifer have always believed that was the only way, and the two of you are the only things keeping them in check.” Irdu’s sharp words reminded Michael there were others in the room.
Michael’s first instinct was to deny that was the answer. He couldn’t. “It seems that way, but I don’t think we were meant to be divided like this.”
“That’s where you’re looking at it wrong,” Tiamet said. “Honestly, it’s like you higher-ups never listen to yourselves. There’s no meant to be in this world. We get to live our lives the way we choose, and every decision ripples out into the world, collides with other ripples, and changes everything. That’s the point.”
Michael had never heard it phrased quite like that. “Perhaps we shouldn’t have been given that.”
“Free will?” Irdu narrowed his eyes. “Fuck you. I wouldn’t surrender that despite all the mistakes ever made at any time, by me or anyone else.”
Tiamet waved. “Hi. Off-topic police here. You asked what we know? We don’t know anything. Compared to whoever is doing this—Gabe, or I don’t know—we’re stupid lost. Information is power. If you have information about the whole planet, you have power over the whole planet. He’s got that; we don’t.”
“Now the whole planet has information about us.” Michael was trying to be rational about this, but he was running out of straws to grasp.
“Holy shit.” Ronnie’s quiet exclamation shut everyone up. “I know what Gabe’s doing.”
Irdu twisted his mouth. “Throwing a tantrum of epic proportions because he’s not king of the playground?”
“Yes. Lucifer knows it, too,” Ronnie said.
“We all know that.” Tia didn’t sound impressed.
Ronnie looked at Michael. “The rules change if someone tells you to do what you want, versus do it or suffer the consequences. Faith versus knowledge.”
A light clicked on in Michael’s head. “Gabriel wants order. For people to do what he says, because he knows best.”
“Exactly.” Despite the enthusiasm in her voice, Ronnie frowned. “Best way to get them to do that? Expose us. Not just those of us in this room, but all of heaven and hell. He’s going to prove to humanity we exist and take away any doubt of whether or not they should fall in line.”
“Sounds a bit misguided, don’t you think?” Tiamet asked.
Kids these days... No appreciation for the simpler things in life. “So does our entire existence, if you take that stance. Gabriel likes order. He doesn’t believe people know what’s best for them. This way, he believes he’ll be able to make them grow.”
“You assume.” Irdu added.
“It’s a safe assumption. And it sounds like you don’t have better.” Sandalphon spoke for the first time since the discussion started. “Even if that’s not the goal, what he’s doing puts us all at risk. Those of us who are fallen don’t have the big corporate machine behind us, and I’d hate for someone to start digging and figure out I’ve been here for almost two-hundred years and not aged a day. You can stay here until you regroup. Anything you need, I’ll get you.”
“Thank you.” Michael gave him grateful smile. “So how do we stop it from happening?”
“Kill Gabriel.” The edge and formality in Ronnie’s tone caught him off guard.
Irdu coughed, and Tiamet’s eyes grew wide.
Michael focused on Ronnie. “Just like that?”
“Now you have a problem with it?” Disbelieve filled her question
“I’ve always had a problem with it.”
“Whoa. Back up. I thought she was being facetious, you know? Tossing out random ideas.” Tiamet’s words all ran together. “You don’t mean actually kill. We can’t do that. We’re immortal. The body dies; the soul lives on. The punishment is we’re removed from earth. Death isn’t an option. Is it?” She finished her question with a squeak.
Michael felt a familiar surge of regret that he’d taken on this mantel. “It’s not something anyone else knows how to do. It’s not something I want to know.”
“But he does it anyway.” Ronnie crossed her arms and sank back into the couch.
“Gabriel’s one of us.” Michael regretted the words as soon as they were out.
Ronnie growled. “What did you tell me not fifteen minutes ago? We don’t get special privileges for being originals. And—oh yeah—he’s tried to destroy me twice. The agents you’re killing? Most of them just wanted a little extra power.”
“Just? This isn’t cold-blooded murder.” The irritation snapped out before Michael could stop it, and he clenched his jaw to bring his temper under control. “I agree it’s the only option.”
“So why are you hesitating?” Ronnie asked.
“I’m not. Not for me. A week ago, you refused to talk to me when you found out about this. Your friends look freaked out. I don’t need the weight of this decision to infect all of you.”
She uncurled from her defensive position and slid her hand under his. “You’re not in this alone. The fact we’ve been so isolated is part of what’s making this difficult. Don’t push away the only allies you have.”
“This isn’t the kind of burden someone shares.”
“Maybe you’d stop hating immortality so much if you let more of us in.”
He snapped his head to the side and stared at her, trying to make sense of her suddenly flat tone. “I don’t—”
“You do.” Ronnie pursed her lips. “You can have whatever reasons you want for considering falling, but wouldn’t it be nice if it was because you learned all immortality could teach you? Consider what it would be like to not be so burned out on life that you’re running away instead of looking to add to the experience.”