Seven Archangels: Annihilation

Jane Lebak

Chapter 24

Ophaniel approached Israfel where she sat atop a New York brownstone.

She tightened up her heart and folded her arms. "Go away. I have nothing to say to you."

"Say it anyhow." Ophaniel sat beside her. "You shouldn't be out in Creation alone."

"This isn't alone." Israfel gestured at the world. "This is Park Slope, and there are thousands of angels in shouting distance."

"None right here with you." Ophaniel frowned. "If our enemies strike, they strike quickly."

"As opposed to we who take hours to decide to do nothing." She still had flames licking around her wings. "Is he awake, or am I still waiting?"

"You're still waiting."

Israfel hit the rooftop with a fist.

Ophaniel said, "You understand as well as I do. When you spoke to him last time, did he feel whole? Or did he feel as if he were full of holes?"

"He braided my hair." She knit her fingers. "He didn't get angry at me for not wanting to bond again. He said he'd do what I wanted, but he was sorry. And then he braided my hair."

"You warned Zophiel yesterday to remind you not to go overboard if he treated you well. You asked me to tell you to hold off for a week or longer, to make sure it was a real change."

Israfel nodded.

"It's permanent if you go back," Ophaniel said. "Isn't permanent worth waiting a week?"

"I— Why do you have to make sense?"

"I'm a Cherub. God made me to make sense." There was no trace of sarcasm on Ophaniel's face. "But God made you too, and I acknowledge that sometimes we don't need to make sense. If your heart tells you to rush back, maybe you should."

"I can't," Israfel said. "You won't let me near."

"In an hour or two, you'll be near again."

Israfel let off a long breath. Ophaniel rested his hand on her knee.

"Is my absence from Heaven a problem?"

"Not as such." Ophaniel shook his head. "To be honest, they may not attack again if Camael tells them he saw Gabriel."

Israfel said, "Didn't Uriel do a memory-edit?"

"Yes, but Uriel didn't realize Camael was still conscious when Gabriel arrived. Consequently, no edit on that. Uriel hasn't left the throne of Glory since realizing—apologizing. I think God wanted it that way, to be honest, since God permitted the rest of the edit. But we shouldn't count on Satan's previous failure for protection." Ophaniel's eyes lowered. "We still need to tokenize you."

"We have a verb for it now?"

The Cherub's brow furrowed. "It's better than Sidrielizing you."

She smirked at him. "Only marginally."' Israfel rested her elbows on her knees and gazed over Sixth Avenue. "Are you ready for me now? Or can I have a few minutes?"

"A few minutes is fine."

She waited, then looked at him.

"Oh, you meant alone?" He bit his lip. "I really dislike leaving you here."

"Gabriel was within thirty feet of Raphael when they grabbed him."

"Then I intend to be within twenty." Ophaniel's wings raised. "Or you can just come back with me into Heaven. Park Slope is the only place to get a pizza, but it's hardly the only place to pray."

Israfel smiled. "You forgot zeppoli."

"I never forget anything," Ophaniel said. "A zeppolo is like deep-frying a golf ball and then dusting it with powdered sugar."

"You do remember!" Israfel exclaimed, and they both laughed.

Ophaniel looked into her eyes. "Come back with me."

Israfel nodded, but then when he left, she remained.

God? she prayed.

In the next moment chains wrapped around her, and even as she lashed out, a Guard enclosed all of her, entangling her wings.

Screaming, Israfel shed all her Godly light against her attacker, brilliant and fierce.

"Quick!" Belior was shouting. "I can't contain her!"

Even as Asmodeus moved closer, a thousand angels appeared around them; dozens had run for help even as others disregarded Michael's directions and tried to intervene. Immediately a legion of Asmodeus' armed forces surrounded Israfel while Asmodeus pressed right up next to her, wrestled her to the ground, and covered them both with his wings. In the next moments she stopped struggling and lay limp.

Ophaniel reappeared on the rooftop, Raguel and Michael and Saraquael in the next instants, their swords shining like stars, but Asmodeus and Belior only glanced at them before flashing back to Hell, their faces afire with triumph.

  Gabriel awoke to a frenzied touch in his heart. He opened his eyes to find Raphael before him.

"They have Israfel," he whispered.

Gabriel bolted out of the bed, instantly armored. Raphael wrapped him in his wings and flashed them from the room.

Gabriel doubled over, nauseated and disoriented, but Raphael kept a hold on him. He looked up to figure out where he was: the staging area just inside Heaven's gates.

Michael was calling for the chiefs of the orders, and more angels were arriving every second. Gabriel backed into Raphael, who stood with his hands on Gabriel's shoulders.

"It's no good," Raphael called to Michael. "He's not able to transport without losing equilibrium."

Michael looked at Gabriel. "Can you take charge of keeping Israfel alive?"

Gabriel nodded.

"He can't travel!" Raphael yanked Gabriel backward. "What is he supposed to do?"

"Something." Gabriel turned to Raphael. "I can do something." Then to Michael, "Let me enlist some of the other Cherubim."

"Take whomever you need," Michael said, "but do it quickly because we're leaving."

Gabriel's first impulse was to flash himself to those he wanted, but considering the vertigo, he instead spread his wings and flew through the intervening space. As he departed, Raphael wished him God's grace, then diverted his attention to the order of Seraphim. He was going to stand in for Israfel.

God, Gabriel prayed, let us find her. Let us save her.

The angels had arranged by orders. Even the humans had arranged and ordered themselves, led by Peter, James and John. There were no Thrones at the staging area: they would provide prayer support.

Gabriel cupped his wings to land before Ophaniel. "Find a replacement for yourself. I need you and Zophiel, plus six of Israfel's secondaries."

Ophaniel put Sidriel in charge and then called the names of seven Cherubim.

When all of them had assembled, Gabriel said, "We're the Israfel team. Our job is to keep her alive long enough to be rescued."

The Cherubim awaited instructions.

Gabriel realized he didn't have any at the ready.

"One of the biggest helps for me," he said, spinning up a plan even as he said it, "was the strength of the Seraphim. We need to empower her the same way through our bonds."

"They have her Guarded," Ophaniel said. "I wasn't able to follow."

"Was she conscious when they grabbed her?"

Ophaniel's eyes lowered. "No."

"They need her conscious in order to work. Was it the same location?"

"It felt that way."

Gabriel shivered.

"You had Remiel on the inside," Ophaniel said. "Without someone on the inside to pry open the Guard, our energy won't penetrate, not even to prolong the struggle, let alone avert the outcome."

Gabriel grabbed Ophaniel's arm. "I'm going to try to be on the inside."

With a frown, Ophaniel said, "Is Satan going to invite you in?"

"He thinks I'm dead," Gabriel said, "and we believe he's covered with my residue. I'll be able to force my way in."

Ophaniel paused. "Get a picture of his face for me when he sees you. But keep in mind, he might know you survived."

Gabriel said, "I can only hope I'm sufficiently startling that Michael can break into the room."

Behind them, Michael was already dispatching legions of angels into Hell.

Ophaniel said, "You and Israfel combined should be enough to hold off Satan for at least a little while."

Gabriel's shoulders dropped. "It had better not come down to a fight. I'm not at full strength, and she and I aren't bonded."

"She wants to rebond." Ophaniel opened his hands. "Do it, save her life, and worry about the rest later."

Gabriel paused. "That's good to know. And we have the token as backup if all else fails."

Ophaniel looked uncomfortable. "She never made one."

Gabriel's wings flared. "Why not? Did you do anyone?"

"We did, but—"

"I asked you to do her and Raphael first!"

"I couldn’t get near her," Ophaniel said. "She was livid. You know Seraphim. We were going to do her next now that she'd gotten calm, but we ran out of time."

"Always time to do something else first." Gabriel's eyes glimmered. "Isn't that going to be the ultimate irony, if we lose her because once again, we put off helping Israfel because there would be time to do it later?"

Ophaniel closed his eyes. "That was my bad decision."

Gabriel shook his head. "There's nothing to be done about it now. You guys start trying to feed her power. I've got one place to go before I head out."

Gabriel focused on the Vision and flashed to the Throne of the Lord, fighting the panic that engulfed him when he moved.

He raised his eyes to behold God, so struck by glory that he forgot the fear, forgot to bow, forgot how to do anything more than absorb the light of God. Simultaneously beautiful and terrifying, the sight completed him—every hunger, filled; every need, met; every question, answered. Gabriel basked momentarily in love stronger than any Seraph could give, and he opened his heart to return a love equally fierce.

Lucifer had never understood this, that love was a choice every moment, that God would never compel what they offered freely.

Gabriel leaned into the heart-fire so much that he nearly tumbled in head-first. For a moment he was only a son of the Lord. God held him at arm's length and kept him individual.

Gabriel shook himself, bowed at last, and presented himself properly. I need your help.

Speak, Gebher'li.

"I need help to save Israfel," Gabriel said. "I need your strength."

Abruptly Jesus was before him, guiding him to a stand.

"I'm still not at full strength." Gabriel lowered his eyes. "Can you please complete the healing process in me?"

Gabriel felt himself abruptly topped up to full power, like a hose with the faucet turned on.

"You're not healed yet," Jesus said, "but your normal power is yours for the time being. It won't replenish once it's used."

Gabriel projected his gratitude.

"You're welcome. Now," Jesus said, "you need another weapon."

He opened his hands and created a large grey square about four inches thick.

Gabriel squinted.

Shaking out the fabric, Jesus said, "This belongs over your armor."

It turned out to be a grey cloak with a loose hood and a silver clasp that pinned at the neck ("It's your seal," Jesus said, because Jesus was even more detail-oriented than Gabriel.) At the wrists were silver bangles. An amazing volume of cloth spread around Gabriel as Jesus fastened it, and the black silk lining slipped easily against his armor.

Gabriel shifted uneasily. "I'm going to look ridiculous."

Two slits in the back allowed his wings free movement. Jesus finished fastening the buckles. "We're operating at the level of a carnival trick, but the humbler the power expended, the greater the shame when Satan falls for it. You look great, but I'm not done yet."

Jesus turned Gabriel's silver chest-plate to a scuffed black. The metal on Gabriel's sword, belt and boots transformed likewise, and the rest of his clothing went uniformly grey.

Jesus touched Gabriel's eyes, then opened his hands so a silver light appeared between.

Gabriel looked into the mirror and took a quick step backward. "Okay—I'd attack myself now."

His face had turned chalky, and his smoke-quartz eyes swirled with the chaos of the Void. He couldn't stop looking into them in the mirror.

Jesus winked out the reflection. "The light in Hell will provide the rest of the illusion. Make sure to use the cloak to its best extent too, for the supernatural effect."

"Super-preternatural," Gabriel said reflexively. "I'm already super-natural."

"One thing more." Jesus handed Gabriel a helmet that framed his eyes. Then he kissed Gabriel on the cheeks. "You have my blessing, Gabri'li. Rescue Israfel."

Gabriel bowed and flashed away.

Beelzebub and Mephistopheles arrived in Lucifer's office to hear him berating a smug-feeling Asmodeus and a self-assured Belior. "I don't care about the opportunity! We weren't ready!"

Beelzebub said, "What—"

"We captured Israfel," Asmodeus said. "Go kill her."

"We aren't ready!" Mephistopheles said.

"The army is," Belior said.

"And you should be ready too," Asmodeus said. "Belior was expected to do the impossible in twenty-four hours, and you were only asked to improve on something you'd already done."

Mephistopheles said, "Have you got a defense yet against Gabriel?"

"We don't need to do this now," Beelzebub said. "Tie Israfel together with Asmodeus and hand the two of them over to Michael when he comes with his forces."

"Enough," Lucifer said. "I want all four of you coordinating the defense against the enemy. They're going to invade, and they know which room we're using."

Mephistopheles said, "We could move her in here."

"We set up that room specifically for that purpose. We'll keep using it. For the moment she's not conscious, but as soon as she is, we'll start." He turned to Asmodeus. "I know perfectly well which of you was responsible for this sabotage. When this is done, I'll deal with you and your Cherub."

A call came from the main gates. The invasion had begun.

Hell's sentries met thousands of angels. Asmodeus had positioned a sizable chunk of his forces at the bottleneck of the entrance.

The invaders encountered some difficulty, but the first wave consisted entirely of Angels and Virtues instructed to engage one sentry each and keep him inhibited, allowing the following groups unimpeded passage to any spot in Hell. The inhibitors locked sword-to-sword with the sentries and bound them with their wills, then removed them to other locations.

Next came the Archangels, flashing to the open spaces where their superior fighting skills could be brought to bear. They met a room full of armed defenders in the common area, but new Archangels appeared everywhere a space opened to admit them. The chaos burgeoned. Cries of surprise, curses, calls to God, exclamations to friends, and orders all added to the din.

The defenders began fleeing to the remoter corners of Hell: the peripheries and the deeper levels where they could ambush an attacker and rip out his throat. These places began filling with Dominions and Powers. Principalities flashed to the ice fields; that choir functioned as one unit under Raguel's direction.

In the midst of the chaos, even before all the angels had arrived, Satan showed himself to rally the damned.

With Asmodeus at his left and Belior at his right, Satan sent a nonverbal order to all Hell: the angels felt it roll past with the force of a body blow. The demons revived in the presence of their leader and the commanders of the armed forces, regaining their organization. They spread out like oil, no longer fleeing as much as repositioning. Half in the great hall disappeared. Satan vanished with these.

The Cherubim and Seraphim arrived with the human saints. Michael dispatched the whole order of humans to the lab areas where the higher-order damned had set Guards as roadblocks and were organizing pockets of resistance.

A dozen demons extinguished every light in the great hall. In order to see, the angels now had to shed light on their own, making magnificent targets for demons curled into nooks of stone, lying prone under benches with drawn swords, or lining the walls armed with bows and arrows. Well-used to their own territory, the demons functioned fine blind.

The remainder of the order of Angels arrived, carrying shields and making use of the narrow headroom to deflect whatever arrows they could and to expose the demons waiting in ambush.

At one end of the hall, Belior stood shouting orders, coordinating complicated defenses in several different areas. At the other end, Beelzebub stood on a table where fighting was thickest, hacking at angels with his sword in flames.

Michael flashed to the clearing closest to Beelzebub, as near as he could get without taking to the air. At his back, Saraquael provided cover, and Zadkiel followed on his left. The three worked their way toward the rallying point of Hell's defense.

The Seraph focused on them with a sheen of double-intellect in his eyes.

Zadkiel gasped, "Mephistopheles."

A Seraph-Cherub pair in combat are almost impossible to defeat in this kind of situation: the Cherub ensconced, unseen, empowering the Seraph while providing surveillance to guide his raw force.

Saraquael sent an order to the angels in his immediate command: find Mephistopheles. Then he separated from Michael and Zadkiel, working his way in the opposite direction so they could surround Beelzebub.

Stopping to confront a new demon, Saraquael hesitated when he realized how much pain surrounded him.

Everyone had been wounded at least once. Angels and demons' spiritual bodies recovered from wounds that would kill a human being, but in some cases that meant only replenishing them for the next strike. Their forms did this naturally. The pain came as it would in a man, but recovery overtook the wound before it crippled. What the demons fought for (when defending) was not to take lives but to resist control. Their frenzy sprouted from a fear of chains. Humans proved useless in angelic struggles until they compensated for this cardinal difference: angels fought to restrain, not to kill. Demons on the offensive fought to hurt.

Even to humans, the dangers were psychic more than corporeal, and Saraquael had just encountered one of them: the carnage sickened him. He swung his sword, but the room tilted at him.

A golden glow split the darkness at his side: Remiel, laughing like a lunatic. She whirled like a dervish, a sword in each hand.

The demons thought her mad. They fled wherever she danced with her sunshine blades. Beside her, Saraquael recovered his footing.

Her back to his, Remiel said, "A poet's soul shouldn't be here."

"I'm the standard-bearer." Saraquael looked into her eyes and tried to regain his balance. "We need to stop Beelzebub."

Remiel charged Beelzebub, even as Michael jumped him from the other side and Zadkiel sliced at his legs.

Saraquael gasped as Beelzebub avoided all three attacks simultaneously while striking back at them as accurately as if confronted by only one.

Saraquael sent the order again: You have to find Mephistopheles!

One of the Dominions replied, flagged the Cherub in Saraquael's thoughts. High in a nook on the wall, Mephistopheles was discorporated as he directed Beelzebub's every movement to keep him unhurt. He paid no attention to himself. The demons near him had formed a living fence.

Zadkiel! Saraquael sent.

The other standard-bearer followed his thoughts to Mephistopheles. With the fury of a comet she charged, plowing through the guards at his front, her sword dragging through his dissociated form and forcing him solid with a scream.

Ten Virtue archers fired on Mephistopheles the moment Zadkiel made him solid.

As Mephistopheles took the hit, Beelzebub dropped in pain, and both vanished.

Saraquael and Remiel followed Beelzebub, while Zadkiel pursued Mephistopheles. Michael remained in the hall.

Raguel sent that Asmodeus had been isolated in the ice fields. He wasn't captured, but he couldn't get out either.

Sidriel sent that they had Belior fully engaged at the Lake of Fire.

At the far end of the hall, answering the need for a commander, Satan appeared.

Michael surged with relief—he was here, not destroying Israfel—and then terror—had he already done it?—and then rage. Either way, it was combat.

Focused on Satan, Michael didn't realize until too late when a demon slashed at him. Even as Michael turned to avoid the blow, a brilliance arced from the ceiling to divert the demon's sword. Raphael touched Michael with one hand, healing him while striking with his sword in the other hand.

For the moment, Gabriel's power resided in Raphael, but Michael couldn't tell where the Cherub had established himself.

Michael called Remiel. I need all the Virtues scanning Hell for Israfel. Flush out any individual demons in hiding.

Forming teams of three, she replied from a distance.

Michael looked again toward Satan, and he tingled all over.

"Go to him." Raphael's voice had a repressed laughter out of place in the middle of a battle. His double-shined eyes glistened in anticipation. "Please."

Michael hadn't heard the last word, nor anything after "go". He found an open space, and instantly flashed to it to lock himself in hand to hand combat with the first enemy creation had ever known.

Satan met Michael's blade, a sword searing with blue light. Michael's whole soul glistened, warm, charged with the might of God.

Swords clashed far too fast for human eyes to see as they pressed for an advantage, each seeking a moment, an opening, and a solid hit. Satan brought all his power to bear, a power second only to God's own, and it would have shattered Michael where he stood except that God inhabited all Michael's soul. In response, Satan marshaled everything he had, hating the person of Michael, hating even more the one to whom Michael had ceded control.

For the moment, it was God versus Satan, no pretense, and both would win: God would win the battle, and Satan would win the only way he could, by refusing to do the thing God had asked of him. Satan's fury consumed him—the frustration, the unfairness, and the iron determination to persevere regardless because in his heart, he knew he was right to refuse to submit.

Michael felt God's warning. He dropped as Satan swung at his head.

Something shot out of the floor right through Michael, extending itself like an underworld manta ray, its billowing form rippling out to three wingspans and suffusing the chamber with a red light.

Satan looked up in horror.

Gabriel, thin, black, and infuriated, thundered, "Lucifer!"

Satan recoiled from the form curling over him, fear exploding off him like radiation from an atom bomb. His Seraphic fire whipped through the room, enveloping everything around him.

Every last demon cleared the area.

Gabriel raised his arms, that cape whipping all around him, and fixed Satan with a glare that could blister granite.

Satan fled. Gabriel pursued.

Reality thickened around Gabriel as he tried to pass through a Guard not designed to admit him, but inch by inch he pressed through, forcing it to recognize himself as a part of Satan's form, forcing himself toward Israfel, toward her killer.

As Gabriel arrived, he erupted with fear, no idea where he was, unable even to hear God in the darkness of Hell. Then he forced himself to get calm: he could sense Israfel; he could sense Satan as terrified as himself and probably feeling the fear as his own. Oddly enough, the darkness helped by giving Gabriel less data to assimilate. He knew where he was now. He was in the room where Satan had tried to destroy him.

I'm in! he sent to Raphael, and the Guard admitted his thoughts to the outside because it recognized him. He pulled, then pushed at the Guard until he managed to open a keyhole for Raphael's spirit latch onto his.

God, give me strength, Gabriel prayed, and he felt Raphael relaying his prayer to God.

"You're awake," Satan said. "Perfect."

Satan faced Israfel chained as Gabriel had been, and he pinned her with his will. There was no power focus, no team forming a Guard on the room, no one Guarding her immobile. Perhaps all that had been an affectation; perhaps Gabriel's unlacing had proven so easy that Satan dispensed with the formula. This meant it would be either easier or harder to defend Israfel; insufficient data—Gabriel couldn't predict.

Israfel shrieked, and Gabriel's heart jolted.

"It's over for you," Satan whispered between heavy breaths. "They're trying to free you, but not in time."

Israfel tried to strike back, and Gabriel felt panic wash through her when she couldn't. Her head whipped around, but she couldn't move any other part of herself.

Hands inside— The feeling of slipping apart—

Gabriel rose behind Israfel, unleashing red light to shatter the darkness like a flawed opal. Even as Satan stared in shock, Gabriel shouted, "Never again!"

Satan returned his attention to Israfel, who cried out once more and tried to blast back at him, frustration swirling from her as he kept her will frozen.

Gabriel slipped behind Israfel, reached into her soul, and re-laced her.

Satan tugged her apart again. "I'm glad you're dead. Alive you were my inferior, and death changes nothing."

Gabriel secured Israfel a second time, then tried to reach through the Guard for her other bonded Cherubim. Raphael fed Ophaniel's strength through the opening to Gabriel, and once they had a line in, Ophaniel's and Zophiel's energies found a home in Israfel's heart. Momentarily her secondaries joined the stream.

Satan worked faster. Gabriel counterattacked, retying Israfel as quickly as he could to undo any damage before she got hurt, but Israfel was still the pawn, still in the center. Gabriel called for more help, desperate as he watched her partially destroyed and partially fixed again and again.

Satan's eyes gleamed, and then Gabriel felt his grip change to grasp a different part of the beadwork. As he struck the new spot, Israfel's whole soul shivered.

Israfel cried aloud, "Gabriel!"

Diving back into her, Gabriel could feel the damage: a whole area of Israfel's soul was unsupported, vibrating—and he didn't know how to fix that.

He grasped for Israfel's heart, and she clung to him.

All over Hell, demons were surrendering. They had learned instantly: Gabriel had returned from annihilation, and such a terrible Gabriel that not even Satan dared face it. The Archangels were collecting the wounded and chaining them together, fastened to the walls and ceilings. Virtues rousted out the stragglers in the deeper levels. Principalities carried in prisoners from the ice fields, and Angels stood guard over the restrained or unconscious demons. Constantly the victory became more total as more Guarded pockets were opened and the inhabitants flushed out, captured, and secured.

Inside one of the final strongholds, Gabriel tried to shore up Israfel's buckling spirit. His fading strength left his form misty. The silence remained unbroken now even by Israfel as Satan and Gabriel each attempted to gain an advantage.

Gabriel realized, I'm constantly defending. And then, I'm not as strong as I was.

Raphael pumped energy through the keyhole for Gabriel to absorb however much he could.

Satan struck again, a second pressure point, and more of Israfel's spirit collapsed.

Gabriel slid himself inside Israfel's soul: inhabiting it, loving it, doing his best to contain her within his heart, maybe slow Satan's progress. Ophaniel and Zophiel were filling her, but the strength leaked away through the broken parts. Whereas before Israfel had held tight to herself, now she was flagging.

Hang in there, Gabriel urged. Stay with me.

Israfel reached for him, and in the next moment she offered Gabriel her fire.

It came over him like cold water to a traveler in the desert. Like a hungry serpent, his soul uncoiled, absorbing it all and swamping her at the same time in rings of steel, his Cherub strength.

Satan radiated disgust, trying to block the flood or break the bond off at the socket, but there was so much. Gabriel swirled into Israfel and she into him with joy because even fighting for her life, even on the brink of one or both their deaths, a bond was goodness. Was purity. Was love.

Strong again, Gabriel reinforced her soul with his own material. He could feel both Raphael and Ophaniel urging him to open the Guard wide, but he couldn't make more than that keyhole. He might have escaped himself, but he'd never leave Israfel.

Satan's eyes sparkled. Then, with one spiritual "hand" in Israfel's soul, he reached the other into Gabriel's.

Gabriel moved. Satan couldn't hold him, but that shifted him away from Israfel, so Satan hit that major juncture again. Israfel was losing cohesion.

Knock her unconscious, sent Ophaniel. He can't touch her then.

Not while she's partially disassembled!

You were unconscious.

Raphael was keeping me together. If I do that without him here, we're going to lose the unfastened parts of her.

A moment later, Raphael's urgent voice: God says "Remember your strength."

Gabriel shored up Israfel, slipped out of Satan's hold again, and then had to brace Israfel once more.

Quit being cryptic, he prayed. I've got a lot going on here.

Satan hit the second pressure point. To Gabriel's horror, more of Israfel's soul collapsed.

In a panic, he reached into Satan's soul for that burning cord holding his soul together, and abruptly in his hands he felt the beads nearest the end: hard, raw, strong. He unlaced them.

Satan blasted at Gabriel, then turned his anger full-on at the Cherub, locking his will on Gabriel's own soul.

Raphael was screaming in his heart, but Gabriel couldn't spare a thought from the fight, because Satan was doing it all over again, wrapping his hands and his power around Gabriel's personality and trying to slide the beads off the string, and he was so much stronger—so much more—

Raphael again: Remember your strength.

I have no more strength!

The clatter was deafening as Michael attacked the outside of the Guard, but Gabriel knew he wouldn't break through in time to save either of them.

Gabriel forced enough of himself free of Satan's binding to attack again. Too much information: disorientation as Satan struck down at him while he had his hands in the Seraph's heart, his own substance within Satan welcoming him back, and a moment's sensation of how pliable their souls were toward one another because of their respective choirs. And oh, how much more vast Satan's was than his own, how his cord hypercoiled around itself so it left the beads looser but simultaneously harder to disconnect.

They had completely engaged with one another now, Israfel hanging half-unfastened behind Gabriel but otherwise forgotten.

Satan pushed. Gabriel felt himself give. Again Satan pushed, and more of Gabriel yielded. There just wasn't enough of him.

Remember your strength!

What strength?

Gabriel bubbled with frustration, with horror as Satan unfastened still more of him. Raphael within was trying to keep him tight, but it was a matter of time—

Michael landed a blow that vibrated the whole Guard, but it didn't shatter.

Satan had forced Gabriel back against the chamber wall now, side by side with Israfel. Gabriel wondered if he'd lost the war for both of them because here he was wavering on the brink of delirium with Israfel no closer to freedom, and Satan still had more energy than both of them combined.

Michael slammed the Guard again. It buckled, then re-formed partially around Gabriel.

As it did, he felt the chain anchor for Israfel's left arm at the back of his neck.

His eyes flew open.

Remember your strength.

The chain anchor. His attempt to survive the first time.

Gabriel extended his soul behind him into the wall, grasping the anchor. His heart racing, he vacuumed out all his own power.

With a gasp, Satan watched Gabriel double in strength, in a second becoming his equal in power, and in next surging ahead of the one angel so strong he had thought he might be God's peer.

Gabriel himself marveled, intoxicated, flushed, astonished by his own glory and by the might he possessed, the things he knew he could do, the sudden insights into the universe and God's heart and God's intentions. There was nothing he couldn't know now, no mystery he couldn't unravel—and for a moment he beheld himself and marveled at the glory of the God who had created him.

In the next heartbeat, Gabriel came back to himself, was smart enough to see the trap into which he was plummeting, and returned his focus to Israfel. As the infusion of strength settled in his heart, Gabriel pushed Satan to the opposite wall with his will, repairing himself even as he grabbed Satan's heartstrings. Then, his eyes fire, Gabriel wrenched with a stranglehold on that one pressure point Satan kept hitting on Israfel.

Satan cried aloud as he tried to secure himself, but now for the first time in eternity it was a fair fight.

Israfel stared, bedazzled. Raphael cheered him on, crazed. With his hands in Satan's heart, his will pinning the Seraph in place, Gabriel blazed a light entirely Godly. That light shattered the lab area darkness, vibrated the Guards from within, and forced wider the keyhole Ophaniel and Zophiel used to access Israfel.

In the corridor, Michael was flinging himself at the Guards, which buckled without breaking.

"Peter!" Michael shouted. "Peter!"

Armored and sweating, Peter arrived instantly.

"Peter," Michael gasped, "You're the Rock, and on that rock he built his church—"

Peter's eyes gleamed. "And the gates of Hell won't withstand it!"

He landed one powerful kick at the Guard, and the whole framework ruptured.

Michael rocketed inside, tackling Satan.

Gabriel dropped around Israfel, covering her in his mantle, shattering her chains.

Satan hit the granite, Michael's sword against his throat. The Archangel's eyes swirled white and blue, and for a moment the presence of God flowed around him.

"Thus says the Lord," he shouted. "You will never, never attempt another annihilation. Creation is reserved unto me, and annihilation is mine."

Satan spat in Michael's face.

Still God's mouthpiece, Michael didn't notice. "If you make a third attempt, I will disembody your will and pin you in place, strip your power, and leave you alone and impotent for the rest of time until you're only a forgotten fable, all but annihilated yourself."

Raphael forced his way into the room and came beside Gabriel trying in desperation to rebuild Israfel for the final time. Israfel had her arms around Gabriel's neck, and she shivered like an ice-covered branch in the wind.

Raphael focused his amber light on them. "Let me help you."

Gabriel faced him in confusion: Satan had hit the same eyelets so many times—she was raw, she wasn't holding where he fixed her—

"We'll do it," Raphael murmured, stroking her soul to send his power through her.

"Ophaniel!" Gabriel shouted. "Zophiel!"

Michael didn't turn his head from the demon before him, his eyes locked with Satan's. God was bringing him back to himself. "Do you concede?"

Satan said, "No."

Michael flashed him to another part of Hell.

Ophaniel dashed to Israfel's side. "Hold on. Israfel, please, just hold on." Grabbing Israfel's hand, he looked to Gabriel. "Help her! You have all this power, do something!"

Gabriel gathered her closer, bowed his head so his blond hair mingled with her black. Respond, he urged. I'm holding you together. Raphael is pouring in power. This is the last time. You just need to knit together now. Just once more. You're safe. Just once more.

Zophiel rushed into the room, casting aside her sword with a clang against the stone. "I'm with you, Israfel. Stay focused."

Gabriel tried again to restring her, but everything crumbled: metal fatigue of the soul. He directed Raphael's healing power onto those spots like a searchlight, and he prayed.

"Do something," Ophaniel begged.

"We're trying," Raphael whispered. "He's doing everything he can."

"It's not enough."

"It'll have to be," Raphael said. "Gabriel, what else can we give you?"

"I need ideas." He looked from Ophaniel to Zophiel. "Bounce something off me. We need another means of patching her up."

With her shredded heartstrings and eyelets in his hands, Gabriel sent his enhanced mind into the problem and engaged with it on every level possible, attacking it from twenty directions at once, discounting each idea as useless or dangerous. Ophaniel and Zophiel offered suggestions, but batting them back as other suggestions gave him no breakthrough. He abandoned that and went further inside, reviewing everything that had gone into saving himself and wondering what use it would all have been if he in turn was not able to save Israfel.

He raised his eyes to Raphael's, and he sensed the key lay with him. The Spirit pushed him to remember…something. Raphael had saved him by letting go, but that had worked only because of what Raphael had been holding. Gabriel had none of that; letting go in this state meant Israfel's dissolution.

Pray for us, he sent, and Raphael nodded: he hadn't stopped praying.

Israfel felt soft in his arms, like jelly. Gabriel looked to Ophaniel, who went immaterial and slipped inside Gabriel's body, then solidified as Gabriel went desolid so that Israfel had been transferred to him. Ophaniel stroked her cheek, but even that pressure left a shining distortion over her.

Zophiel said, "If we're going to have an epiphany, we need it now."

Gabriel went after the problem again, engaging and returning as rebuffed as if he hadn't tried at all.

He looked at Raphael. "This is so frustrating. I might as well not even be here!"

And with those words he remembered Raphael saying the same to him: that with his mind engaged in a problem he might as well not even be there. And then he nearly wasn't, never again.

How many times hadn't he been there for Israfel, all the little abandonments and the unshared moments? And now Gabriel wasn't even "here" when she was dying, rendering her last moments like so many others, with Gabriel physically near but mentally far.

Gabriel bowed his head and whispered, "I'm sorry."

He disengaged. He focused on Israfel, on the poppy he'd braided into her hair, and he leaned forward so he had his arms around her as she lay on Ophaniel's lap. He sent his mind back into her soul and pressed his will around the crumbled parts to support what he couldn’t repair, and thought only about Israfel, only about this moment. Because if all he had left to give Israfel was these few minutes, then this was what he would give.

Zophiel whispered, "Could Uriel help?"

"Uriel gave back the knowledge," Raphael replied in a similar hush. "I already asked."

Israfel's hair felt brittle even as the rest of her felt soft. As the minutes passed, Gabriel dissolved a little too get his form closer to her, determined just to be near, waiting. Just being present.

Raphael murmured, "Try her again."

Gabriel gave Israfel access to his power, and there came a response: weak, but she'd taken it. Raphael's glow still enveloped her, and Gabriel tried again to direct it to the weak spots.

What if there was another technique, some way—

Whatever you're doing, quit it, Raphael sent.

Chilled, Gabriel forced himself to stop looking for alternatives, just to be there.

Raphael sent reassurance.

For so long, Gabriel felt as if he was only waiting, watching, and so useless. But he was holding Israfel together, and he was guiding Raphael's efforts to best effect, and he could sense the prayers all around them, Uriel's and Mary's, Michael's, Saraquael's, Zadkiel's—so many. At some point he looked up from Israfel to realize many others had come into the room as well, that Zadkiel stood behind Raphael with her hands on his shoulders, that Michael had checked in on them, only he'd been so absorbed in Israfel that he hadn't noticed.

And next he saw Raphael smiling, realized Ophaniel had relaxed, that Zophiel breathed easier, and in the next moment he gazed down at Israfel as her eyes fluttered open.

"You're still here," Gabriel whispered.

She groped for his fingertips.

Gabriel probed into her soul. The parts that had crumpled were firmer again, not yet ready to be laced but rapidly reconstituting.

"Thank you," she whispered. "You gave me everything you had."

"No," Gabriel said. "Just the only thing I could."

  Ophaniel carried Israfel to Heaven where Mary and the Thrones awaited, Gabriel and Zophiel accompanying.

Wings flared, Uriel stared at Gabriel. "What happened to you?"

Gabriel puzzled until he remembered Jesus had turned him pale and dark-eyed. He didn't answer but just stayed by Israfel's side.

After laying her on the bed, Ophaniel whispered to Israfel, trying to get her hands loosened from his wings, but eventually he just went desolid to stand free.

Uriel inspected her. "Everything seems to be here."

Gabriel sighed.

Uriel peered at Gabriel. "And there's more of you than before." The Throne touched him. "Satan tried to unlace you too?"

"I returned the favor." Gabriel shivered. "I had to repair myself. Does it feel like I did it right?"

"You're raw, but it's all there."

He felt Raphael ask for him, so he flashed back to Hell. The infusion of power seemed to have had at least one permanent effect: there wasn't the terror any longer when he traveled.

She's stable.

Raphael nodded. "You still look terrible."

"Thanks. I scared Satan half to death."

Pivoting, Raphael took a step toward him. "You scared me half to death too." Raphael's eyes flamed. "I couldn't get to you."

Gabriel brushed his wings by Raphael's.

Raphael stopped to heal an injured angel, then returned his attention to Gabriel. "Remiel was having trouble with Mephistopheles. You should join her and pull your up-from-the-grave stunt once more."

Gabriel sighed. "This isn't a practical joke."

"They deserve to have the daylights scared out of them." Raphael paused with a glimmer in his eyes. "Satan sent out a wave of terror that could have cracked open a planet when you surprised him, and pretty much every demon tried to hide after that."

"Asmodeus and Belior too?"

Raphael shook his head. "Raguel had to cinder Asmodeus." He looked downcast for a moment. "We tried to hand him over to Belior until he reconstitutes, but he doesn't want anything to do with him."

Gabriel's shoulders dropped. What a waste. Then he looked up. "So it's only the three stars of the show remaining."

In the lab area again, Remiel, Saraquael and Raguel worked on a Guard Gabriel found too familiar.

"They're both in there," Remiel was saying to Raguel, "and we can't crack it open." She tapped the Guard. "Have you ever felt anything this strong?"

"I believe I have," Gabriel intoned.

Gabriel caught the glances the other three exchanged when they saw his eyes and clothes.

"It's just me," he said with a laugh. "Gabriel 2.0, the scary version."

"Don't mind me." Saraquael shifted to stand behind Remiel. "I'll just make sure I keep the lights on at night for the next century."

Gabriel grinned. "I'm testing out my Halloween costume."

"Dibs on the cloak," Remiel said.

Gabriel touched the Guard, sampling the power of the Seraph-Cherub bond that fueled it, and at the same time realizing with an intoxication that he still was far more powerful than ever before. He could crush that Guard and laugh while doing so, maybe squeeze the pair tight and pull them out through their own web.

Instead he made his presence known to the Guard, and the Guard, recognizing him, trembled with surprise.

As it did, Raguel smashed it open.

While holy light flooded the chamber, the two inside scattered like roaches, flashing to any other part of Hell. Prepared for this, Remiel and Saraquael flashed after them, and within seconds, each returned with one prisoner caught and chained. They dropped them in front of Gabriel.

Mephistopheles fell to his knees. Beelzebub glared first at one Cherub and then the other, although one disturbed him visibly.

Gabriel folded his arms.

"Go ahead," Beelzebub said. "Annihilate us."

Mephistopheles rolled his eyes. "No, you idiot."

"We changed you," Beelzebub said.

Gabriel studied him.

"Quit over-thinking everything." Head tilted, Beelzebub smirked. "Are you going to destroy us, or did death only make you more annoying and less effective?"

Gabriel's brow furrowed. "You haven't made a compelling enough argument for me to return the favor."

Beelzebub squared his shoulders. "Simple revenge. We killed you, so you should kill us."

"I would never," and Gabriel smiled slowly, "take you out of Hell."

Mephistopheles got to his feet and stepped closer to Gabriel, touching his cloak. "How are you here? Is this a new transitory state, or were you re-created?"

"I'm still the same angel." Gabriel lowered his light a little. "You failed. I'm alive."

Mephistopheles cocked his eyebrows. "Do you attribute your survival to a faulty technique? Did the pieces regenerate as we suggested they might?"

Gabriel said, "Actually—"

"Actually," Saraquael interrupted, "two Cherubim in a debate here and now would be a terrible thing, so let's just leave it as a mystery to further torment you during eternity in Hell."

Gabriel glared at Saraquael, who shrugged.

"They need to calm the lower order demons," Remiel said. "We're having a hard time keeping them chained thinking there's something returned from the other side of annihilation powerful enough to make Satan scream like a school-girl."

Beelzebub's eyes flashed. "There's no way you'll get as much mileage out of that as I will."

"I intend to try."

As Saraquael chained Mephistopheles and Remiel led Beelzebub away, Gabriel said, "Wait." He looked Mephistopheles in the eyes. "Do you want to be chained together or separately?"

Mephistopheles looked over his shoulder at the Seraph, who looked at him and met his eyes.

"Together," said Beelzebub.

"Then cooperate." Gabriel flashed Mephistopheles and himself across the room.

Mephistopheles muttered, "Two Cherubim debating would not be a terrible thing," looking at his cuffed hands. Then his head picked up. "You do look different. Was that an undocumented effect?"

"It will be gone soon," Gabriel said. "There won't be any lasting changes."

Mephistopheles let off a cloud of frustration.

"Did you really think God would permit it?"

Staring at his feet, Mephistopheles said, "We had to at least try."

Cherub-to-Cherub they regarded one another momentarily.

"The idea was," said Mephistopheles, "that I could solve the problem—the logistics of the thing—and I never considered facing the consequences. Like with the hydrogen bomb—like J. Robert Oppenheimer, for crying out loud—I said, this is the way you do it, but I didn't think we would."

Gabriel folded his arms. "You never believed they wouldn't."

Mephistopheles couldn't look him in the face. "I got so engaged in solving the problem that I never considered the practice which would come after the theory."

Gabriel kept his voice low. "These things have to go to completion."

Mephistopheles' wings dropped. "I wouldn't do it again."

Gabriel opened his hand.

Mephistopheles tried to take a step back, but Gabriel's will held him.

"No!" He shivered, his blond curls getting in his eyes. "But I just promised not to use it."

"Satan will beat it out of you," Gabriel said. "He'll engage you and give you everything you ever wanted. Consider me as saving you the trouble of being beaten or seduced."

Swallowing, Mephistopheles concentrated until his eyes glowed. He arched his neck and sparkled all over, and then fine tendrils of light extended from his eyes, from his skull. His arms flexed from his sides, and his fingers spread.

Gabriel opened both hands and called all the light filaments together. "All of it," he murmured, then gathered them together into an orb.

Mephistopheles opened his eyes, shaking. He was crying.

Gabriel ignited the orb on his palms, and it crackled as it flared. When the flame exhausted itself, nothing remained.

Chalky pale, Mephistopheles wrapped his arms around his stomach.

Gabriel resisted the urge to put his arms around the other Cherub, but with a soft voice, instead he said, "I have a question for you, something our own Cherubim never managed to answer."

Mephistopheles dragged up his gaze, a spark in his eyes.

Gabriel took a step closer and whispered, "Can't? Or won't?"

Mephistopheles drew a short breath, first looked at the ground, then up and over Gabriel's shoulder. Gabriel could follow the trajectory of his gaze without turning his head: he'd just looked toward Beelzebub. Gabriel didn't pivot to see if Mephistopheles' bonded Seraph was looking at him with anger or with concern or perhaps even with fear, or if he wasn't looking at him at all.

Mephistopheles said, "Won't."

Gabriel's hands unclenched. He hadn't realized he'd tightened them.

Michael appeared alongside Gabriel. "If you're done with him, I'll take over."

Gabriel handed over control. "Chain him together with Beelzebub."

Michael huffed.

"I gave him my word."

Michael waved to Saraquael to bring over Beelzebub, and they chained the pair to one another.

"There will be no further annihilations," Michael said. "You will not re-perform the research."

Beelzebub held his head up in defiance even as Mephistopheles slumped.

"What will you do to us if we don't comply?" Beelzebub said while Mephistopheles murmured, "Will you just shut up?"

"Well, what is he going to do?" Beelzebub shrugged. "More pain? We've been in Hell for so long that pain is redundant. We'll cope."

Michael explained in exceedingly simple terms what it might feel like to exist as an awareness and a will stripped of one's faculties, self-aware but unable to affect the world around oneself in any way.

Mephistopheles said, "Your unsubtle implication being that compliance prevents this scenario."

Michael shrugged.

The demon pair stood without speaking for a moment, but Mephistopheles had his wings against Beelzebub's. Finally the Seraph said, "If that's all—"

Michael grabbed Mephistopheles by the wrist. "It's not."

Beelzebub tried to lunge between them, but Saraquael tightened him up so he couldn't move.

"This one's personal. Open your hand," Michael said.

Mephistopheles did, revealing the sigil ring.

Michael touched it so it returned to himself.

Then he looked at Saraquael. "Take them through the ranks of the prisoners and have them calm everyone. Let the prisoners know it will only be for a while longer, until we have everyone accounted for."

Saraquael flashed them away.

Michael looked around to find only Remiel. "Where's Gabriel?"

  Gabriel stood less than a wingspan from Satan in the deep dark. If Satan could detect his presence, he hadn't reacted.

When Gabriel adjusted his cloak, Satan turned toward the sound.

"It's just us." Gabriel filled the cavern with a red light. Satan was chained to a rock wall, but not so tight he couldn't stand freely.

Satan's eyes bored into Gabriel, measuring and re-measuring the power confronting him. "You want some sort of concession?"

"I'm not expecting a sincere one." Gabriel let Satan's study proceed. "You make promises only to break them and then call us fools to agree. You could swear anything and I wouldn't believe you."

"Then why return?"

"You didn't kill me." With folded arms, Gabriel stared icily. "You missed the mark again. Are you prepared to finish the job?"

Satan smirked. "What makes you think I'll try again? One of the Almighty's mouthpieces already issued a string of impressive-sounding threats."

"Because you're stubborn, and you'll agree to the system in the short term if it meets your wants over the long term. Michael promised vengeance if you try again. I don't want you even to try."

Satan met Gabriel's gaze, his eyes glistening, his smile calculated. "How do you propose to do that? I have my own free will."

Gabriel reached out in a nonverbal expression of what could not be said. As only a Cherub can, he educated Satan about the brilliance of a single soul: the uniqueness of an individual's memories and perceptions, the unique fit of a soul into the matrix of creation, the love only that specific soul could give and the unique way in which only that soul could reflect the light of God, an individual sculpted and endowed with life by the Father.

"Why should that change my mind?" Satan shuddered. "I knew all this. The worth of a soul is the reason I tried to destroy one."

Gabriel's black eyes burnished the rest of his face. "God can re-create anyone."

"He won't. He'll remain non-involved that far. Eventually I'll succeed, and you'll have lost one of your brilliant and unique lights."

Gabriel looked down. "You're set on trying again."

Satan's eyes glinted garnet in Gabriel's distorted light. "When I have nothing left whose loss would affect me, why not? I've burned too long to be afraid of more pain. Someday the returns will diminish enough for me to try again to annihilate you. Or Michael. Or Raphael."

Gabriel breathed deeply, and his eyes softened. Relaxing first his wings and then his shoulders, he hummed out a long breath with his eyes half-closed.

The presence in the room changed as Gabriel diminished and Another took over.

Satan looked right at him and said, "I hate You."

Possessed by God, Gabriel embraced Satan, who pressed back against the wall and the chains. Gabriel's fingers came up to touch Satan's head, and then with closed eyes he departed.

The Guard came down, the lab became solidly dark, and the knowledge of annihilation went from Satan.

 

Copyright 2008, Jane Lebak

Cover

Copyright 2008, E. J. Mickels

E.J.Mickels II—aka 'Hisart'— a multi talented artist, has a BFAA in Drawing with Minors in Illustration and Graphic Design from the University of Akron. A veteran of the USAF, he has traveled through Europe and most of the USA.

E.J. ventured out as an Illustrator and has appeared in The Sword Review as well as Ray Gun Revival and in Dragons, Knights and Angels. He also wrote and keeps his own web-site-< www.Hisart.us >—which contains a small fraction of the art he has produced. He works in any medium and is just as comfortable setting at a PC with pen and tablet as he is with a chainsaw, airbrush or welder. He has done custom motorcycle and helmet work, as well as in the distant pas,t worked as a tattooist. He is also a writer, he participated in NaNoWriMo 2005, and maintains his own blog 'Sword and Pen' at < www.hisart777.blogspot.com >.

E.J. is currently the ArtWrangler at Double-Edged Publishing's Fear and Trembling magazine: < www.fearandtremblingmag.com >.