Josh
“You look like bloody Hell.” Shona drops the book on the sofa and comes over to where I sit on the other side stroking TT, who sits in my lap. She kneels beside me and tentatively touches the skin on my face.
“Ow.” I wince. “Please don’t touch that. And thanks for the news flash. I don’t feel much better than I look.”
“What happened? You’re an Angel. You’re in Heaven. Why hasn’t it healed?” she asks, alarmed. I can tell she’s worried because her glasses have slid to the tip of her nose and she hasn’t bothered to push them back up.
“Believe it or not, it has improved a bit. Don’t worry, the other guy looks worse.” I smirk and wince again from the pain it causes. I conjure another ice pack and press it against my face.
“Fill me in,” she demands, moving over to the couch and drawing the dog away to pet. I tell her the whole story, from my attempt to save Grace, to Keira’s intervention, to my encounter with Noah at the parade. Admitting my intense rage toward the boy we’re trying to save is difficult, but I know it’s important. I watch Shona, waiting for her to cringe away from such un-Angel-like behavior, but instead her eyes fill with understanding and sadness as she nods.
When I finish, Shona leans forward and brushes a finger over my bruised cheek.
“Well, now we know the One can certainly touch you.”
I bristle at her touch. “Like I said, he got the worst of it.”
“And you left Keira with Grace?” she asks softly, sitting back on the broken sofa.
I swallow hard. “I went back to the hotel where she was being tortured immediately. There was so much blood, but no Grace. So I came back here and searched on the screen. She’s nowhere to be found, which means she’s probably in Hell. I was too late. I should have never left her with Keira. And all for nothing. I should have killed Noah. I’m an Angel, but we’re talking about the Antichrist here. I should have followed through and killed him when I had the chance.”
Shona purses her lips and nods again, thinking. “Should you? It’s still a life we’re talking about. And not just any life. He’s Grace’s brother.”
“I wish Mr. Griffith were here,” I say, my throat thick with emotion. “He always knows what to say—or at least he used to know what to say. I wish he’d try to do something. Anything is better than just giving up.”
A deep voice answers from the doorway. “You’re absolutely right, Joshua. It appears I owe you an apology.”
I look up to find Mr. Griffith standing there.
He strides forward and places a hand on my head. I prepare for pain when he touches my injuries, but instead half of my head is surrounded in warmth. When he takes his hand away, I touch my face to find my wounds gone.
“You were getting there. I just helped speed it along. It’s the least I can do.” He looks over at Shona, who must suddenly realize that the book she stole from him is within sight. She reaches to throw a pillow over it, but it’s way too late.
“I’m so sorry, sir.” She blushes.
“I knew you took it.” Mr. Griffith smiles, but I do see an uncustomary crease in his forehead. “I thought perhaps when you saw the words for yourself—the actual memory of the prophecy recorded—that then you would understand. What’s done is done.”
I stand, unwilling to listen to any more. “Well, it didn’t work that way. I’m never going to give up. I gave my word to Grace.”
Mr. Griffith turns his sad obsidian eyes on me. “I know. I saw what happened—to Grace, to you, to Noah. That’s why I came here.” He sits on the couch, which finally fixes itself beneath him, broken springs recoiling and ripped cushions stitching themselves together around him as though in rewind. “You see, I expected a very different outcome from what I’ve witnessed. It reminded me that, while I see probabilities, sometimes the impossible happens when it comes to those who were once human.”
Shona comes around to sit beside him on the couch. “Sir? What are you saying?”
Mr. Griffith takes a deep breath. “I’m saying that I believe in the word of The Man Upstairs. However, somehow Josh here was able to completely contradict His word, which has caused me to question, well, everything. It is a rather…uncomfortable feeling.”
I stare, unable to form words. I used to see Mr. Griffith as the one who knew exactly what to do and how to fix things. And then he betrayed my trust when he banished Grace. But now? Now he seems as lost as I am.
“So what? You’re saying that you were wrong? That Grace shouldn’t be a Demon?” I try to hold back my anger. If he’s willing to bring her back…
Mr. Griffith grimaces like he’s in pain and puts his face in his hands. “No—yes—I’m not certain, but…” He thinks silently for a moment, staring into the distance, concentrating heavily on something unseen. Finally, he speaks again. “I’m sorry, Josh. It can’t be undone. Not by me.”
The anger I feel toward Mr. Griffith turns to sadness at his admission. It’s not just that he won’t do anything—it’s that he can’t. It’s what I was afraid of.
“Then what are you saying?” I ask, sitting on the other side of him.
Mr. Griffith forces a smile and places a hand on the ripped shoulder of my T-shirt, which is still covered with dirt and Noah’s blood. I hear a sizzling sound, and Mr. Griffith snatches his hand away, clutching it like it’s on fire, horror in his eyes.
Shona jumps up and conjures a pitcher of water, which she pours over his blistering hand until he sighs with relief.
“What the Hell?” I ask, standing and examining my own shoulder.
“Noah’s blood, I suspect,” Shona says, gently examining Mr. Griffith’s palm. I’m shocked to see unhealed, blistered skin.
“I’m saying, Josh,” starts Mr. Griffith, “that you shouldn’t have been able to touch Noah. Look what just happened to me. But you did. Obviously he still had an unusually negative effect because your bruising was healing very slowly, but you didn’t die or burn. In fact, you very nearly eliminated the Antichrist.”
“I couldn’t kill Grace’s brother.” If I wasn’t so concerned about his injury, I’d be angry again.
“Of course not,” Mr. Griffith assures me quickly. “You did the right thing, which is exactly what I’d expect. But you still touched him. You almost killed him. No Angel should have been able to do that. Josh… I believe Noah didn’t hurt you because you’re not completely of Heaven. You still have a part of your Demon self inside. That protected you from Hell’s touch.”
My stomach drops. Mr. Griffith has just confirmed my worst fear: I’m not truly an Angel. I still have my Demon self within me. There were clues all along: when I didn’t feel as empathetic as Grace when we first watched the potentials on the screen; when I helped Lucy, whose soul I was trying to save, plot to murder Ms. Alvarez; when I almost killed Noah. I feel sick, like a fraud. Like I shouldn’t be here for fear I might hurt someone. I back away, nearly knocking over a lamp in my hurry to distance myself from them. Tommy Two barks at my feet.
“It’s okay, Josh. It isn’t a bad thing. In fact, it’s a very, very good thing. The Man Upstairs created humans to be fallible and have free will. That was His greatest gift. You are the perfect example of everything He hoped for in humanity, Josh. You overcame your worst tendencies to do the right thing in the end. I’m ashamed to admit that I hid behind my nature. I mistakenly thought that being an Archangel made me better, just like my brother, Lucifer—when in fact it was an excuse not to do right by you and Grace. By humanity.”
“I still don’t get it,” I say, feeling confused. “How does this help Grace? Or Noah?”
“It is time for me to start acting more like a human.” Mr. Griffith lets his injured hand fall to his side. “Never mind the prophecy. I may have been interpreting it incorrectly all this time. There may be no way of avoiding the End Times, but I now understand that without the willingness to take risks—and break some rules—we will never be sure. It’s time I righted an old wrong,” he says, “and it’s time to reclaim Grace. I believe she’s suffered enough.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. “I thought you said you couldn’t bring her back.”
“Only Lucifer can relinquish her, so that’s who we’re going to see. We are going to Earth so that I can deal with my brother directly, on neutral ground. I shall attempt to convince him that we were both wrong about the end of things. No matter the outcome, we won’t leave until we’ve collected Miss Howard.”
Shona’s mouth hangs open in shock and terror. I’m not sure why—this is the best news I could imagine. Mr. Griffith is finally going to act. Grace is coming home.
Lucifer be damned.