Train's Moving On From Procrastination Station

...Hm, slowly but surely, that is.

I Twittered (yeah, I'm still on that word). You're all going to go look at it and say to yourselves, my goodness, Bree must have put thousands of hours of thought into this most profound and beautiful Tweet (well, I had to use it there, because Twitter sounds stupid). If you said this, you'd be wrong. About 30 minutes ago, I woke up from a broken sad nap (you know, one of those naps you take when you're so depressed at the world that all you can do is curl up into bed and force the cat to cuddle/sleep with you) and realized that I hadn't written a blog post today. Well, that wouldn't do, but I also didn't want to go into this post without having done at least one thing that I said I would do.

No, I haven't gotten around to any blogs, but I have been scoping them out from a distance. And, no, it is most certainly not because I've been marathon watching the sixth series of Doctor Who. That's only part of it, so wipe that smug look off your face. I'm also deep in preparations for my dad's move in a few months. He brought home a ton of boxes from storage and I've been having a bit of fun playing with the nostalgia of all my things. Mainly I've been throwing away old pictures of me from high school with people I haven't spoken to since high school and trying to figure out how in the hell I acquired so many stuffed animals. Seriously. I'm surprised my parents didn't go broke with all the stuffed animals and books I found. If this were the early 1990s, I would have made a killing selling all my Cabbage Patch dolls and Baby-Sitters Club books I found. Alas, those things went to Goodwill, so another little girl can fully appreciate the awesomeness that was a 1980s/1990s childhood.

So, I've gotten the ball rolling. This is a loooong weekend (thanks Labor Day!) and my last before my regular school schedule begins. I'm planning on hauling butt around the internet and seeing what's there for me, but I also planned on finishing the sixth series of DW, so you can see my dilemma, right? I've also got a room to finish cleaning, a cat that's evil eyeing me right now, and a library book that goes back in three weeks. Sure, I'll most likely finish it in two days, but that's not the point! The point is that it's completely unfair that there's so many wonderful things to do and I have to sit here on my computer and sort of work.

Being whiny is fun. I recommend you all try it at least once this week.

(And yes, I realize that my first Tweet is so very nerdy, but David Tennant came to me, speaking words of wisdom when I was wondering what to write. There were a lot of w words in that sentence. It's kind of fun to say out loud. If you're doing that right now, you're the best.)

Almost Completely Done

The dedication is done. The table of contents is checked off the list. The Kindle preview went well. My cover is finished, the blog has been updated, and new ideas for the sequel are rolling in.

Dare I say it? Am I.........done?

I really think I am. It's just the little matter of the promoting part of the book. I don't know if I've said this before, but I can't promote myself. I feel stupid telling people about what I've done and I downplay my book each time someone asks about it. I self-sabotage. But I don't know how to talk proudly of myself without coming off as arrogant. I am proud of this book, I am proud of myself for completing a task that I never thought would be finished, but I'm not sure how to tell people that without sounding pushy and rude. Like, buy my book because it's the best thing you'll ever read and if you don't, you're going to feel so dumb around all your cool friends who are on their thirtieth reading.

Okay, I don't actually say anything close to that.

I'm on Twitter, even though I've never actually tweeted (I think it should be changed to twittered, because that makes me think of a bunch of birds giggling) because each time I read an embarrassing tweet, I cringe inside. And then I have one of those profound thoughts: you know, like, the person who tweeted this didn't think it was embarrassing, they probably thought it was insightful and they are so brave to do that. And then I think of my first tweet (oh, yes, I have thought about it), and the cringing happens all over again.

It can't be any worse that what I write on here, right?

So, in the next week or so, you might see my little voice on Twitter or around other blogs. I'm going to try and break out of my internet introverted personality, and introduce myself to the world. Well, the internet world. Which is, apparently, a world now.

Be gentle, I'm an introvert in real life, too.

A Productive Week!

So that's what one looks like!

What I thought was going to be another messy, unscheduled week turned into something great. I came home on Wednesday, after another horrendous adventure with my boyfriend's condo (seriously, people, it's not hard to build a working place to live), a spark inside me told me that I had to start working on my book. So I started. And I didn't stop. Not for a few hours, at least. Although it doesn't seem like I got much done, it was the little things that added up to one big thing: my book. I learned how to make a table of contents that works for Kindle. I know, it's the smallest, silliest thing ever, but I was so proud of myself afterward, because I could click on whatever chapter I wanted and it took me right to that spot! I'll admit it, I squealed a little bit. But I didn't stop there. Then I sent it to Kindle so I could preview it, and let me tell you, that was actually a pretty cool experience. They put it up on your browser inside any generation Kindle you specify and then show you what your book will look like. It was weird, clicking through on a Kindle Fire and seeing my book staring back at me.

My excitement levels were rising to a dangerous high.

Finally, I went to the electronic copyright offices (on my computer, obviously) and finished the registration. It was a bit confusing for awhile, with so many legal terms and repeat questions, but I worked my way through it. So now my book and content is officially copyrighted.

Yahoo, right?!

Now what's left on my list is the social media part, along with a few odds and ends that can be done in a few hours. Hopefully, by next week, the book portion of this whole adventure will be finished and then I can move onto the next. My original target time of sometime in September (yes, that's the professional term) looks more and more like a reality.

I also want to take a quick second and mention something that's been bothering me this week, not only as a wannabe author, but as a reader, too. I saw on my Twitter feed earlier this week that an emerging author (I'm not saying her name because I would believe that she would want to be left alone) was having bullying issues on Goodreads. Now, I love Goodreads, because it helps me keep track of my books and also gives me great recommendations for what to read next. But I do sometimes forget that it's a social media network, as well, and there are people on there who spout off their opinions without thinking of the ramifications. This author decided not to publish her book because people were rating it terribly based solely on the description. There are books that I see that I don't want to read, but I don't rate them or call the author stupid or anything like that. I move on. I seek my next great reading adventure. I guess I just don't understand the fascination that people have with bringing down others. I'm not saying that I haven't ever made fun of someone or a book, but I do it in the privacy of my own head. Growing up, the Thumper rule was always in effect: If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. I'm not saying any of this because I don't want this to happen to me (well, I don't, but that's not the point). I'm saying this because there are so many great stories out there and people to tell them, but it's not going to happen if we keep pushing them down because their genre of book isn't our cup of tea. If you don't like something, that's fine, but don't ruin it for the people who do like it. Can you imagine what the reading world would have been like if Stephen King had listened to the terrible comments about Carrie, or JK Rowling had given in to the rejections?

I guess what this whole rant is trying to say is...Be nice. It's not that hard.

Update on Everything

I would love for this to be one of those posts where I put up my checklist and everything is crossed off, but that's not going to happen. Not now, most likely not ever because that is not me. It may drive me insane, but what can you do. Last week was a little messy, in between baking dozens of cookies for my boyfriend's potluck at work and going through years of crap that my dad brought home from storage, I haven't had a moment to think. But I did a quick flash of inspiration yesterday night, so that's why this post is going to be short and sweet. Let's just say it involves lots of index cards and some familiar characters.

Anyway, the blog might be under construction sometime this week, because I definitely want to update this thing. But that involves a lot of research and learning and practice...I don't know if I have the patience for that this week. I also hope to send my manuscript to Kindle so I can look through it and mark out any mistakes, yet I have to do the table of contents first. Do you understand how tedious that thing is? Sigh. I hated making them in school, whenever we wrote stories or had to write essays (later on in school). And this is a big one because if I mess this up, the entire Kindle ebook is a mess.

There's also the little problem of social media. Sometimes I look at my Twitter feed and I just can't. People on there are argumentative and rude sometimes, and I tend to have a short fuse. But I also understand that it's a necessary part of an author's existence. Hopefully I can find some good people on there.

I think that's about everything. The next few days are going to be a whirlwind of cleaning and getting things organized for a later date, but hopefully I'll find some time to get this all going. Now I have to go and stop my cat from eating the tape off of a box. Sadly, that's a normal occurrence around these parts.

Cover Reveal...Sort Of

When I first thought about publishing on Kindle, it was way before I actually believed I would publish on Kindle. I started the process, though, way back in May, and then stopped because I started sending out inquiries to everyone and anyone I thought would be interested. Why am I telling this little story, one may ask? So you'll understand that the cover I'm putting here might not be the final cover.

Kindle Publishing edition of All You Left Behind

 I went back to my bookshelf on Kindle Publishing and saw the cover I made in May, and I kind of like it. It fits with my story, but something feels a little...off. Way back when I finished the first manuscript, I registered with CreateSpace and made a whole cover deal there, so I could have a proof. I really like it and wanted it to be the final deal, but...now it feels off, too.

CreateSpace version

I'm not sure if this is me being too hard on myself, or maybe I've just seen so many covers in my 20-odd years as a reader that I have a very specific cover in mind that I can't really get. I envy those people who can draw or have gorgeous friends who are willing to pose for them so they can use their picture, because I have neither.

But now that I have the two side by side (figuratively speaking, of course), I do love the CreateSpace version. I always have. When I pictured this cover, I knew fire would fit in there somewhere, because fire (well, burning, really) plays a huge part in this story. I wanted a female angel on there, too, but then it started reminding me too much of the Maximum Ride series, and that's not what I'm going for at all (even though those books are awesome).

So there you go, faithful readers. Two covers, two minds, too many decisions to be made. But the good part is I'm on a schedule. Shut up, I hear you scoffing, but it's true. The cover will be done by this weekend, whether I like it or not. And then it's on to the fun (?) stuff, like social media and making sure everything is in its place. Right, the fun stuff.

Flu and Finishing

In case no one has ever told you before, having the flu sucks. I woke up yesterday morning around six with the whole topsy-turvy stomach, achy body, and headaches galore. After flopping around in bed for about twenty-four hours, it finally went away this morning, but now I'm so weak from not having eaten anything but a few Saltine crackers since Saturday night. However, there are a few pluses to having the flu: I've watched about a billion episodes of Doctor Who, I got to skip work today because I didn't want to infect little children, and I can't be expected to do anything because I'm sick, so the dirty room will have to wait (well, I did clean the bathroom and make my bed, but that doesn't count). I've also decided that I need a new job because I really liked doing absolutely nothing today and not feeling guilty about it. Also, the cat seems to like babying me while I'm sick. Maybe because I take pity on her and pet her more than I usually do.

I know what you're saying: So, that means you worked loads on your book today, then, right? Totally! But not really. I wrote out a list of everything that I want done for the week, and then for the month, and I think that's an accomplishment in itself. Of course, now this means I have everything I have to do laid out right in front of me, so let the freak out commence! It's a lot of little stuff that, when added together, will eventually make a book, so now it's just about getting it all done and getting it done correctly. It doesn't sound like a big deal, really, but I rush, rush, rush whenever I'm excited. I know I've had to have said that before. But it's the truth. My biggest fear is that I'll be two seconds away from launching this book on Kindle and realize that I didn't copyright it or forgot the cover or even something on my blog is wrong. The littlest thing can drive me over the edge. I'd say that's Type A personality at it's best, but that is so far from being me. I guess it's just...crazy? Insanity? One of those seems more likely.

But I did say that I would put up the cover this week. I'm planning on getting that junk done by Friday, hopefully, and then I can start putting together the inside. Sigh. More editing. See, this is why I need to be rich and famous, just so I can have other people edit this junk for me. I don't even fantasize about having nice cars or a huge house, just someone to do the tedious work for me. And maybe to buy enough books that could warrant building a library in my house. Or apartment. I'm not picky.

Anyway! Cover by Friday. Promise. Check. And then the fun begins. Because then I can send it to Kindle so I can check it out and make sure that all the formatting is okay and that it doesn't look like my cat edited it. Although, judging by my performance today in everything, it might be better if she does. But I won't have the flu forever. Although that, in its own way, would be wonderful.

"Editing" Day, like, 2,015,424

Wow, this week went by a lot faster than I expected. It was also one of those messed up weeks, where you think you're going to have all this time to do stuff, and then one thing happens, and all your previous plans are thrown out the window. Well, that happened. I ended up having to purge my entire apartment of cat hair, and that process took about two days. Sure, I had a little time to edit the manuscript, but by the time I was covered in Pledge, Windex, and some sort of vinegar mixture Pinterest assured me would get my shower sparkling clean, I don't think I was in the right frame of mind for editing. I got some stuff done, and it's only August 10th, which means a lot more to me than ever before. That means I still have 21 days until the end of August. 21 days for editing, messing up, and dealing with those problems before possibly throwing my book up on Kindle. Three whole weeks. I'm sure I'll be lamenting the death of those three weeks in less than 21 days, wondering where the time went and why I haven't done anything of use.

Besides all that boring stuff, I've dedicated some time to a small gushing post. I (literally) just put down The Cuckoo's Calling by the new and mysterious author Robert Galbraith. Wait, you mean you've already heard that it's a pseudonym of J.K. Rowling's? Yeah, duh, so has the rest of the world. Did I buy this book simply because the Queen of My Childhood (more like Teenage Years) wrote it? Yes. I will unashamedly admit that. But I also liked the premise of the book and the fact that people were saying that it was a crime novel in the purest sense. I like crime and mystery novels, but they usually end up like a Michael Bay movie: unnecessary explosions and hot chicks dressed in practically nothing when it's snowing outside. So I've been rather disappointed in this genre for the last few years. But there have been some good ones out there, don't get me wrong, and The Cuckoo's Calling was just as good, if not better. I didn't expect the ending we get, and I do forget what a fabulous job Ms. Rowling does at making you look one way while she fiddles with characters and other things behind you. It's an awesome story and you fall in love with Cormoran Strike, the one-legged detective who takes a well-paying job to stave off debtors.

Another quick gush that is basically just me fangirling is for Scott Lost's The 2nd Shift. It's a comic book and I've only read one other comic book in my life (Watchmen, because my boyfriend said that we can't watch the movie until I read the book), but what I read was interesting. The pictures are absolutely beautiful as well, because the people look real to me, and even my boyfriend looked at one of the guys and said he looked familiar. And in case you don't know who Scott Lost is, he's a former wrestler who turned into a comic book artist, and I've never forgiven him for that. About six years ago, my boyfriend and I went to a wrestling show put on by Pro Wrestling Guerilla. While we had followed them for about two years, we had never gone. We were in awe within ten minutes of the show, and we've gone pretty consistently ever since. I absolutely fell in love with Scott Lost because he's funny and amazing and kind of dorky. So, yes, I've been stalking him ever since, buying whatever has his name or logo on it, and my brain turns to dog mush whenever he's around. Like, last night, when I bought his comic from him, all I kept hearing in my head was SCOTT LOST SCOTT LOST SCOTT LOST. I'm sure he thought I was insane, but still. Go buy his comic. Now.

I'm glad that this post had pretty much nothing to do with my book and was just a rambling testament to my nerdiness. But, really, after spending the hellish hours as I have editing and reediting and re-reediting, I need a break from Microsoft Word before my laptop gets broken in two. Hopefully, by the end of next week, I'll be able to put up the cover. I'm so changeable when it comes to that. Oh, man, now I have to go soak myself in some Moriarty.

Oh yeah, watch Sherlock. Because I said so.

"Editing" Day 1

It's actually been an hour of editing, and I'm already done with it all.

Is that a good sign?

I've read through the basic Kindle formatting instructions and even sprung for the (completely free) Kindle how-to book. While I haven't quite finished reading the whole thing, I've been going on step by step, thinking that it'll get me through quicker or easier or something. But I've had to go back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and...You get the idea. Sigh. And that's only dealing with page breaks and titles pages. I've only just reached how to make a Kindle table of contents and that whole section is somewhat gibberishy, but that's because it comes from the Microsoft website and they think everyone is a computer programmer. That one I might seek out a little help for, or else my table of contents might end up looking like a coloring book.

The one thing I've really taken away from this long hour is that I need a better strategy to approaching editing. I get so excited to finish something that I rush at the first step, and then get so angry when they finish with "...and do this step only after such-and-such step." Of course I wouldn't do it until that step! Yeah, right. But the good part of this all is that I'm getting excited again. I've only caught snatches and glimpses of what Amory and co. are up to, but it gives me that itch. And then I figured, hey, I'm home alone for the next five days...why not take advantage of that? Sure, I had originally planned on zoning out on Doctor Who and Breaking Bad, but I guess I could make a little bit of room for writing.

Now that that's all out of the way, sorry about the last post being so short. You know those lost weekends you sometimes have, when there's nothing to do and you just feel like being lazy? My boyfriend and I try to have those sometimes, and I guess I throw myself completely into it. It's like my laptop suddenly becomes a million pounds heavier and I can't bother to lift it out of it's cover. So I kind of threw that up with nothing more than confused thoughts. But the point of the post was the writing, so as long as I got that up, that's all that matters. I would appreciate some kind of feedback from anyone who reads this thing, even if it's oh my god, throw out your laptop because you write worse than my five year old sister. I'd be okay with that. After the hours of tears.

Just kidding. Probably just a few minutes.

Late Night Reading?

Just a quick little write up! I had the plan of posting early in the day and then not having to worry about it for the rest of the weekend, but then life happened. Today was supposed to be a lazy day, but I forgot to bring my computer to the pool and...well, you can guess what happened from there. But before I rush off to the bookstore or watch a movie or do absolutely nothing for the rest of the night, I figured I should get this up and going, since I promised.

Sorry if the formatting and everything is off. I also planned on spending part of the day making the whole post perfect, but, well, see above.

Quick set-up: this is the first part of the first chapter. This is also from the first edit, and I haven't looked at it since then. But, again, I may leave it.

- ONE -

Heaven, it seems, is in a bit of an uproar.

A couple dozen angels are standing around the large dais in the center of the Council chambers, throwing their arms into the air or waving pieces of paper around like that should do something. One angel has even taken to the air to make his point, talking over the others without really being heard. Voices reverberate off the marble walls, the air quivering with words and questions. The Council, the Archangels, watch this madness with an impassivity that could have them mistaken for statues.

Normally, Heaven reminds me of a library. Not because angels go around in silence, but there’s this hush about them that makes me want to whisper and ask where the latest Fitzgerald is located. Hardly anyone fights, because there’s no cause or reason for fighting in Heaven. It’s always nauseatingly perfect up here and everyone is just so damn nice about everything.

So I sit in the back, on the last pew available, and watch as the insanity plays out. This is usually the time of the weekly Council meeting where I drift off into a nice cat nap, but it’s just not going to happen today. One angel had to start asking about the war on Earth, asking about what Heaven is going to do about it, and the shouting ensued. None of the Council members even raised their voices, choosing instead to have their subjects fight it out. It’s a typical move for the Council, since they never like to be the ones to make unfavorable decisions.

“We should send our best Warriors down there and fight!” one angel cries.

“We should stay out of it!” another retaliates.

“But if we don’t do anything, then the humans will never forgive us, even when they ascend,” a calm voice points out.

“They’ll be up here, won’t they? Isn’t that enough for them?”

More shouting and finger pointing. It’s ridiculous watching grown angels fight like children. Especially the ones who have been around for thousands of years.

It’s been this way for nearly five years, since the war on Earth broke out. The Council barricaded themselves in this very chamber, their discussions secret. Some said that they talked of fighting with the humans. Others were convinced that Heaven was going to stay out of it. Conspiracy theorists believed that Heaven set up this war, using it to take over Earth. Those angels usually disappeared quickly after announcing their beliefs.

Whatever the case, Heaven had remained relatively quiet on the war front. Sure, we had sent down some Warriors to help the humans, but nothing like what the Council had proposed: to send all of Heaven’s forces down to Earth to stop this war.

Soft, downy feathers tickle my neck and I let my wings fall open, the tips reaching from one end of the bench to the other. Even though angels don’t have to use their wings every day, like a bird, sometimes the bones need a breather, because keeping them furled close to your back can cause some serious complications. I once saw an angel with bent wings, the tips curled neatly under the rest of the wing, the feathers almost touching her shoulder blades. I stretch my arms out, relishing the free space. The chambers are usually pretty empty during the meetings, but I always end up with new Guardians flanking me, as if by being near me, they’ll suddenly have years of experience. I never tell them to bugger off, though, because I was guilty of the same when I ascended nearly a hundred thirty years ago. Hunting out the best Guardian, taking a seat so close to him or her that you might as well sew your sides together, and then breathe in deeply, knowing that their knowledge is obviously communicable, so you should be a level ten in no time.

But today I’m lucky. I’ve been invited to this meeting, a private meeting, so I have all the space in the world. There’s only one other angel in the chamber with me, and we’re both doing our best to ignore each other.

King Donal Toussaint is positioned near the front, but not too close to the Council bench. He was the only angel who did not stand up when the arguing broke out. He remained in his seat, cool and calm as ever, his shrewd eyes never missing any piece of the action. His slicked back black hair shines in the light, like a dagger held in the sun. He stills wears the same purple and gold robe that he donned on Earth, while the other royalty in Heaven shucked that oppressive clothing as soon as they stepped through the gates. He always reminded me of one of those hoodlums in the old noir movies, kind of ratty and up to something. He may be a scummy excuse for a king, but he’s cleverness and cunning made up for his poor decisions and lazy manners.

“Have I missed anything important?” Drystan Wycliffe slides in next to me, his eyes trained on the mess up front, his fingers brushing my shoulders as his arm goes around the top of the wooden seat.

I glance at him. Drystan’s been forbidden to attend any Council meeting for years now, thanks to his special condition.

He smirks. “Being able to hear angels and humans shouldn’t be considered a special condition.”

But it is, and we both know it. I wave my hands in front of his face, as if knocking away my thoughts from entering my brain. “This is why they don’t invite you. What are you doing here? You’re not allowed.”

He shrugs. “They asked me to come in today. Anything exciting happen?”

I shake my head. “Nope, just a bunch of old men arguing what’s best for Earth. As if they would know. Some of them haven’t been around Earth since the Plague.” I turn and smile sweetly at Drystan. “Not that that was a bad time.”

Drystan smirks, but continues to watch the men. He very rarely talks about his time on Earth, and sometimes I think it’s because he’s forgotten. But then he’ll surprise me by pointing out a tree and relating a story of his childhood, or telling me that the cookies I baked smell like the ones he used to filch at the market by his house. Only once did he tell me about the Black Death, about how people ran out of the city in droves, how his family narrowly escaped the same fate. But that’s when he closes up, when he mentions the word family, and I never push him, because I know exactly what he’s feeling.

“I have to say, I was a bit surprised when Uriel said I should come,” he finally says. “I’ve never really been to one of these before. I always meet with a Council member in private. But he said that it would be important. He said something about a mission?” He finally looks at me, his stormy blue eyes confused. “Did Uriel say anything to you about a mission?”

No one has said anything to me. That’s one good reason about being a young woman at these meetings: the men are so stuck in their ways that they barely give me a second glance. The first thing they see is “eighteen” and they take a slight interest, but then they catch the rest of the woman behind that number, and it’s glazed eyes and closed ears. But I did find it odd that I was invited today, mainly because Guardians are not allowed in Council meetings when they are on furlough. There’s no way that the Council could have another mission lined up for me.

Could they?

I stand, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but in here. Drystan’s head snaps up to me, his fingers catching the back of my shirt. I move to make him let go, but then I catch Michael’s eye and he shakes his head, one barely imperceptible nod that buckles my knees and forces me to land with a heavy thump onto the wooden pew. I silently curse him for the power he has over me. Toussaint glances back at me and smirks, as if he understands that power.

Drystan keeps his hand on my back, soothing me, playing with the end of my ponytail, doing whatever he can to ensure that I’ll remain in my seat. He’s seen the look that Toussaint gave me, and the tension in his arm matches that which courses through my entire body. But his soft hands work their magic, and the calm descends over me without warning. I want to shove him off me, want the anger to come back, but it’s hard fighting Drystan once he gets his hands on me.

Michael lifts his arms, his eyes back on the fighting mass in front of him. Without uttering a sound, he has the entire chamber silent within a few moments. Even though I’m not talking, I curl into myself, trying to be as quiet as possible. Even Toussaint straightens his back a bit more and appears attentive. It’s the Michael effect, where he can command an angel with barely a look, a gesture, and get everything perfect the first time. I guess it comes with the territory as lead Council member, but still. It’s impressive, if not a little terrifying.

“Gentleman,” Michael begins. His eyes flit over me. “Lady. It was my intention to bring together today the brightest minds that Heaven has to offer, not for a debate, no, but for a solution. The Council agrees that the war on Earth has grown wildly out of control and that we must step in. We have already sent a camp of our finest Warriors, scattered about the world for maximum effect. Our next step is to deploy our Guardians, so that they may protect those we have written down in the Book. The Council does have a plan, one that may save both Heaven and Earth, and for that we would need our top Guardian.” His eyes travel to the last pew. “Amory Ambrose. Could you please come up here?”

Drystan and I exchange a glance, and I notice that he doesn’t seem as surprised as I do. Uriel must have given him some kind of heads up if Drystan is nodding at me like everything is how it should be, and I make a mental note to smack Drystan as hard as I can once we get out of here.

I exit the pew and walk up the aisle, hyper aware of the formerly feuding men’s eyes on me. Those of them who had written me off earlier, and it’s most of them, without a doubt, are slowly beginning to eye me with awe, shock, and, do I dare believe, respect. They’ve heard of me, and they must not have thought that a woman could do the things that I’ve done. Whatever Heaven might be, equal is still not one of them. Even Toussaint is watching me, but his eyes hold something else, something that I can’t quite name, but I look away quickly, not wanting to fully comprehend that look.

When I’m finally standing in front of Michael, he turns a stern eye on the other angels. “I asked Amory to come here today, even though she is on furlough, so that she may hear what Heaven’s best minds have to say on the war on Earth.” He focuses on me then, his eyes gentle, but an undercurrent of steel simmers there. “Amory. You have heard the arguments and the solutions that these men have to offer. The Council has one more. We plan on sending a Guardian down to Bexington, a small coastal town that has yet to be affected by the war. In that hamlet, the Guardian will bring back one of our own, an angel who can help us through this trying time. It will take a special kind of Guardian, one who is willing to do whatever it takes to succeed at this mission.” A smile almost appears on his face, but he catches it. “If this angel could guarantee a stop to the war on Earth, would that be a satisfactory solution?”

The entire room knows the answer to that ridiculous question. If this one angel could stop the fighting and death on Earth, Heaven should do whatever it takes to procure this savior. But that’s not really what Michael’s asking. He’s asking me if I would be willing to break my furlough, the first one in decades, to go find this mythical angel.

On one hand, no. This vacation is too fantastic, especially since this is the first day that I’ve been out of sweat pants. It’s kind of wonderful to do whatever I want, whenever I want, in my own home. But, on the other hand, this could bump me up to a level ten Guardian, something even more elusive than a two pronged unicorn. There’s never been a level ten in the history of Heaven, but with this on my resume, the Council would have to grant me that or else the Guardians would revolt. We may be a competitive bunch, but we look out for our own.

So there’s really only one answer that I can give, and the Council knows it. They’re all staring at me with those too-innocent eyes, the politely puzzled but supremely smug faces. It sickens me that I have to play right into their game, but that’s the Council. They’re nothing if they don’t have control.

“I do believe that is the only choice, Michael,” I finally say. “If Heaven wants to help Earth win this war, then we should seek out this angel and bring him back home immediately.”

Michael smiles, bathing the room in a warm glow. “That is what I hoped, Amory. And excuse me for being presumptuous, but the Council thought that you would be the only Guardian in Heaven’s gate that could succeed in such a mission. We understand that you are on furlough, your first one in quite some time, but we would not ask if it was not of the utmost importance.” He glances at Uriel, who inclines his head slightly. “I am also to understand that we would send down another with you.”

My eyebrow twitches upward. “Another Guardian?”

“No, Amory, we believe one Guardian to be enough, especially one with your sterling record.” He lays the flattery on thick, and, damn it, it works. “No, we decided that a Psychologist would be in your best interest. Someone who would be able to listen into the humans around you...as well as the angel we have in mind.”

There’s an audible sigh in the room as the other angels turn to the back of the room. Even I look over my shoulder. Drystan’s in the same place I left him, but his eyes are wide now, like two full moons, understanding dawning across his face. He scrambles to his feet and walks the same path I did, coming to a stop a yard behind me, his left hand resting on the marble dais. The angels have shifted now, distancing themselves from us, knowing that they cannot be worthy enough to be in this party anymore.

Michael smiles. “Yes, we did have Psychologist Wycliffe in mind. Not only could he be of assistance with humans, but he would be able to help you work better with our angel, because this is not going to be as easy as we have made it sound. This angel left Heaven on his own accord, hundreds of years ago, and he has not been back since. He is not fallen, but he is also not in the Council’s good graces.”

A murmur gallops around the chamber, shock and a bit of disgust coming from the others. But Drystan and I keep our eyes on the Council, waiting for our official assignment to be given.

Michael, perhaps sensing my growing impatience, announces, “We, the Council of Heaven, have chosen Amory Ambrose, Guardian, and Drystan Wycliffe, Psychologist, to descend to Earth to find Richard Piedmont.” Before either of us can give our assent, he continues, “By the request of King Donal Toussaint, these two angels have been chosen and will do Heaven’s bidding.”

Drystan’s head snaps around, but I freeze. There’s a thousand questions that fly through my mind, a thousand answers that I demand, but nothing comes out of my mouth. The words can’t push themselves past my pursed lips. All I can do is nod to Michael, because I want this mission more than I’ve wanted anything in my life, before and after I ascended. Drystan eventually nods, but Michael must repeat his name a few times before he receives any kind of answer. We’re both in shock, and it’s obvious to the rest of the room, the smiling Toussaint most of all.

If we were requested for this mission by Toussaint, then there’s more to this than what is on the surface.