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.