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Kheone glanced up from her desk at the clock. Cripes. She had barely enough time to visit this Father Fauci before she made her first rendezvous—God, no, that made it sound like something else entirely—meeting with Shax. She pulled out the little scrap of paper with the symbols from those pottery shards written on it along with Serel’s letter and rushed out the door.
She’d had a day. Although Kheone kept telling herself she was in charge, it felt more like directing traffic from the middle of a busy street. At night. While dressed in black.
The angels were understandably upset. Serel had been an integral part of the gathering, in ways she had not realized until he died. The patrol schedule was the only thing holding her grand plans together, but she had to cover a few too many shifts. Michael had kept her off the original schedule, but with only eleven other angels, Kheone could not avoid a patrol herself. Her first began at midnight, leaving little opportunity to do the things necessary for a leader, like eat and sleep, let alone conduct a clandestine investigation with a demon.
Once she settled the angels into their new routine, things would be better. Her conscience reminded her that perhaps Michael would allow her more leeway if she told him the truth. Of course, he could take the easy road: run Shax through the heart and lock her up until the end of time or the Gates were rebuilt, whichever came first. She had tried to loop him in on their theory, and her anger at the unfairness of his dismissal burbled up. Until she had proof, she would not bring it up to him again.
Kheone swallowed her emotions, something she used to be good at, like any good soldier. It became harder to do every day. Being mortal, or near enough, sucked.
Kheone reached the history building as the bell tower struck the quarter-hour. Taking a deep breath and sending up a quick prayer the priest would still be in, she climbed the stairs to Father Fauci’s office.
The door stood open. She knocked anyway.
“Come in.” A man’s low voice called out, muffled by the floor-to-ceiling books and two comfortable-looking, overstuffed armchairs.
Kheone poked her head in, her body following reluctantly.
“Hello, Father. I’m sorry for being late.”
Father Fauci stood up from behind the desk. He was a short, stocky man with salt and pepper hair.
“Kheone, right?” He peered at her from behind the reading glasses perched on his nose. The smile he wore seemed genuine, if sad, and his dark eyes glinted with intelligence. He gestured at the chairs. “Serel spoke of you. Please, have a seat.”
“Thank you,” she said. She pulled out the letter addressed to him. “I found this in his room. It’s for you.”
She handed him the envelope before making herself comfortable. He gave it a thoughtful look as he took a seat behind his desk.
“Have you read it?”
Kheone suppressed a gasp and shook her head. “No.”
“Of course you didn’t.” He chuckled. “Angels. You do always play by the rules. Well, almost always.”
Father Fauci took a silver letter opener out of his desk and slit open the envelope. He pulled out a piece of paper. The ink had bled through in a few places, but not enough for her to read it. All the priest’s attention focused on the letter. When he finished, he tucked the page back into the envelope and placed it down on his desk.
“What does it say?”
His smile was kindly, but there was steel in his gaze. “Tell me, Kheone, how well did you know Serel?”
“Not as well as I should have.” Had she known him better, perhaps he would have clued her in on whatever got him killed sooner. “Serel was a healer and a scholar. I am a guardian, a courier of souls. We worked together several times before last winter, and I respected him. He was a reliable teammate, and I considered him a friend.”
Nodding as though she’s confirmed something Serel had told him, Father Fauci’s gaze bored into her as the priest considered what to say next. He tapped his fingers on the desk, merely an inch from the letter. The tapping ceased, and the priest cleared his throat. He had made up his mind.
“What if I told you Serel’s death had something to do with the destruction of the Gates?” His voice was hushed, as though he was afraid someone might be listening. He tented his fingers, and his gaze softened a smidge.
Kheone pressed her lips together and tried to slow her racing heart. She and Shax must be on the right track if they weren’t the only ones who suspected this. But what did the priest know, and what did he merely guess? Only one way to find out.
She took a deep breath. “I’ve already come to that conclusion, Father. It’s why I’m here. I need to know what Serel knew.”
Father Fauci picked up the letter and held it out to her. “Go ahead.”
Kheone nearly tore the envelope in her rush to pull out the page. Serel’s neat handwriting covered the top half. The bottom half, the part where the ink had bled through, had a unique illustration. She saved it for later.
Arturo,
If you are reading this, I am likely dead. The book is safe, and my notes are secure. You can trust Kheone to follow through. She is the most honorable being I’ve ever known and has rescued more souls from damnation than any other angel. Although she may lack patience for scholarly work, she is intelligent and diligent. I have no doubt Kheone will use her knowledge to rebuild the Gates and return both the celestial and physical planes to normal.
I have enjoyed our friendship and scholarship. I hope my fate is not oblivion, and I will see you again in Heaven.
Serel
At the bottom, Serel had drawn a careful picture of a cylinder and wrote the symbol for angel on it. The same symbol she had recognized on the piece of pottery from the library. Empty squares dotted the rest of the cylinder as though he had known something needed to go there but had no idea what. Or he had been afraid to write it down.
“Serel and I discussed the fate of human and angelic souls,” the priest said, interrupting her perusal. “Demons, too, to be honest. With the Gates gone, what happened to the souls? I feared oblivion for all of them, but Serel felt there was room for hope. He’d seen the Gate to Purgatory still stood before falling and believed it could act as a holding area until he found a way to rebuild. He mentioned he’d found a book which might help.”
Kheone nodded. If only she had been early to meet Serel, perhaps she would not be sitting here now, hoping for answers from the priest.
“Do you know what’s in it?” she asked.
Father Fauci shook his head. “He wouldn’t tell me. Whatever he’d translated had him very worried. Serel seemed the type to take notes, yes?”
Kheone nodded slowly. But he must have hidden them somewhere. Not in his room, but somewhere she could find them.
“Any idea where they might be?”
“Sorry, Father, I didn’t even know about the book until the night before he died.”
She now knew her next task. Locate those notes. Serel’s room was out. The only thing there of relevance was now in Father Fauci’s hands. She didn’t know where else to look.
“Be careful, Kheone. Trust no one you don’t have to, not even Michael.”
She opened her mouth to protest. Why not Michael? He was an Archangel, their commander, the right hand of God. Father Fauci’s cool stare stopped her.
“He has the well-being of every angel on Earth to consider. If push came to shove and he decided this book harmed their well-being, do you think he would hesitate in destroying it?” He asked.
“Even if it meant we’d never be able to go home again?”
The priest shrugged. “From what Serel told me, Michael isn’t the same archangel he once was. He seems intent on ridding the world of demons. Perhaps his zeal to protect those angels who had the ill fortune to be outside Heaven when the Gate blew up skewed his priorities.”
He clamped his mouth shut, biting back any further criticism of the great archangel. If he had said this a week ago, Kheone would have chided him for it, but she noticed some of those same changes. She had been happy to hunt and destroy the demon hordes now plaguing the Earth, but in the recesses of her mind, Kheone wondered whether they would ever see Heaven again. The Michael she knew now would do anything to protect the angels left on Earth, including destroying a chance to return to Heaven.
“It’s possible we’ve been too caught up in surviving and have neglected our responsibility to find a way home. I’ll do what I can to fix this. May I keep the bottom half of the note? Serel’s drawing may prove useful.”
“Of course.”
Kheone carefully tore the note in two, giving Father Fauci the top half. “Thank you. I’ll try to keep you out of this, but I may have questions. My wheelhouse leans more to combat tactics and blades than books.”
“My door is always open. God be with you, Kheone.”
“God be with you, too, Father.”
The hall was empty, and a glance at her watch told her she was late for her meeting with Shax, too. Son of a motherless goat. Once out of sight of the office, Kheone opened a rift and a quick, sharp pain stabbed through her temple as it closed behind her. Rubbing at the spot, her long strides ate up the short distance to the meeting place.