Several days would roll by before I next awakened from my induced sleep. I had had a sensation of Michael seated on the tub chair opposite me. With my eyes still obscured, I’d had to read his movements and activities using my telepathic senses. This was another one of my angelic abilities: the ability to read my handler’s thoughts. Listening to his thoughts this morning, I was able to infer that he had been rather engrossed in the book he was reading. He had, quite possibly, picked it out at the hospital library upstairs. I read the title with my mind’s eye: Atlas Shrugged.
That’s an old publication, I told him telepathically. Circa nineteen fifty-five, I believe.
Fifty-seven, to be exact, he replied, correcting me. Yes, I’m revisiting a masterpiece.
One written from a humanist’s point of view, with a humanist worldview. You know that, of course, I continued.
Yes. But it’s a convincing manifesto on capitalism. On that score alone, Rand wrote a masterpiece, he qualified.
Is there anything you haven’t read? I asked.
Nothing, he answered. We read everything and archive everything that’s been written by mankind as a witness, preserved until the time of judgment when the endeavours of man are tried by the Lord’s fire. Some will pass the test; most will be burned up.
Thank you for staying with me, I told him next.
I wouldn’t have it any other way, he stated.
What are they doing to me? I asked.
Among others, repairing your skin and restoring your wings. There’s been internal haemorrhaging in your cranium, too, but that’s been taken care of.
I asked next: Did they screen me for implants? At Mount Shinar . . . I fear I might have been subject to implants.
He allayed my fears: Don’t be anxious, Little One. The angel, Asahel, conducted a top to toe scan with an MRI. It was clear: you’re clear of implants of every sort.
I felt relieved in spite of myself.
I continued: About what I said the last time; I haven’t changed my mind, Mika. I still feel the same.
I know you do.
Do you not despise me?
No, Little One, I can never despise you. Try to get some sleep now.
I didn’t try to get anymore sleep but I did feel the inclination to break down there and then. For that was the way Michael was; everything he had ever done to me and for me had always been anchored in love. And an unassailable sense of duty, for the protection of the angels of my ilk had been placed under his purview from the time of our creation. I was about to express my gratitude to him but someone else was entering the ward. I stayed from drifting to sleep to find out who my visitor was.
“How is he?” Gabriel whispered.
“Getting stronger all the time,” Michael replied.
Gabriel caressed the back of my head. Then, he took a seat on the other tub chair beside Michael. A subliminal silence pervaded the ward where the humming of various machines was its sole activity.
“He’s never seemed more helpless now than at his court martial more than two years ago,” Gabriel opined, still speaking in a whisper.
“I remember,” Michael responded, also in a whisper. “The court martial that resulted from the angel, Kemuel’s allegation that he had stolen from the company. Mish had felt let down by Kemuel and his circle from Special Operations. I believe he had felt let down by us also, for not protecting him against the charges.”
Gabriel replied in a mordant tone: “He did feel let down. The tragedy of the whole sordid incident was that it was allowed to go that far. I’m not finding fault with Kemuel and his circle, but the charges brought by the brethren were avoidable. It had been a simple matter of fact finding and fact checking with the department in question, in this case, Special Operations. Mish need never have been brought before the Council of Elders to defend the charges.”
“Indeed,” Michael concurred, “the buck had stopped with Special Operations. The ramifications of that experience are yet to be put behind Mish. His relationship with Kemuel has since been strained: at best civil, but not as warm as it can be. It’s not for want of trying; there’s an undercurrent of distrust in Mish still.”
“Mm,” Gabriel concurred. “He needs to try harder to rise above the sense of betrayal he’s feeling. It was all a big mistake. But it’s an enigma the manner in which his requisitions form to use a company jeep became waylaid as it did. The bigger enigma was the fact that Mish was in possession of an approval slip endorsing his use of a jeep that Kemuel claimed hadn’t been issued by Special Operations. By that time, the fledgling had stopped trusting in any of the brethren.
“The whole confusing episode . . . one of ‘he said, they said’, absolutely messed up his mind. I thought he’d lost his mind when he wouldn’t stop punishing himself the day the Council ruled against him. He was a basket case when he’d later develop a persecution complex, believing that everyone was lying about him.
“Thankfully, the Lord would intervene through Uriel’s faithfulness: Uriel believed Mish’s innocence from the start and persisted to fight in his corner long after the Council had made its ruling. With the Lord Yahushua’s guidance, the angel, Abimael, finally recovered the form at the Counter Intelligence department. However, the Lord has chosen to remain silent concerning the identity of the culprit who had intercepted the requisitions form. The conclusion drawn by many among our kindred was that it had been an act of the forces of darkness.”
“Do they honestly believe someone from the enemy camp sneaked into our garrison unseen and somehow managed to intercept the fledgling’s requisitions form from Special Operations? After that, he pilfered an endorsement form, filled it out and, then, forged Kemuel’s signature on the dotted line? Finally to cap off his misdemeanour achievements, he sneaked into Counter Intelligence and, then, managed to conceal the requisitions form among the digital files there, once again remaining under our radar?” Michael described the scenario with not a little disbelief in his voice. “You want to suspend disbelief before accepting the plausibility of such a scenario.”
Gabriel averred: “Not if you’re dealing with supernatural entities. It’s not implausible. In fact, it’s the simplest yet most logical explanation since anything is possible for an entity that’s armed with supernatural powers. Occam’s Razor.”
“Pure conjecture,” Michael maintained. “And until the Lord reveals the truth to us, it remains His knowledge alone. When the time comes to fulfil all His purposes, He will reveal the identity of the guilty party.”
Gabriel grunted before lapsing into silence.
“What’s up?” Michael asked.
“I . . . have a theory,” the Commanding General replied.
“Of course, you do. So cough it up already,” Michael persuaded him.
“It was the very first time that the youngling suffered an injury,” he recalled. “Three months after the incident of the apparent stolen jeep – about the time the Israelis and the Temple Mount Faithful were blockading the Temple Mount.”
“When they were attempting to prevent Antichrist’s armies from taking over the reconstruction of the Lord’s third Temple?” Michael asked.
Gabriel nodded: “You remember.”
“Of course, I remember,” Michael maintained. “How could I forget?”
I smiled to myself for such was the memory of a host of heaven, which could neither be dimmed nor erased by the passage of infinite time. All of the Lord’s angels possessed the ability to recall with clarity every one of their experiences of the last six or so millennia, just as if it had only occurred in their recent past. Michael’s response would compel us on a mental excursion to such a time in our past. My elders began to reminisce.
“Antichrist had retained his reign of the global One-world Order or, as he called it, the Global Unity,” Michael related in a soft voice. “He had, for the most part, been unchallenged . . . except by the leaders of the nations in the Orient, as you know . . . nations he had disparaged as rogue nations.”
“Don’t we all know it,” Gabriel sighed. “Carry on, carry on.”
“Ah . . . now, where was I?” Mika wondered. “Ah, yes. The Antichrist’s reign. Well now, being supernaturally empowered by Lucifer, his father, Antichrist had staged a coup de main to annihilate the members of the Temple Mount Faithful and the loyalists in the Zionist Movement. Now these were the elect of the Lord, of course, those that had been involved in the reconstruction of the third Temple on the Temple Mount in Jerusalem.“Antichrist had his own agenda, however, and this was to counterfeit the Lord’s divine plan by building his own temple on the Temple Mount. To further aggrandize his domination of earth, he was going to enter this temple and invest himself as the god of the world.
“Convinced that Antichrist’s objective was to assist them in the building of the Lord’s third Temple, the preponderance of the Jewish Sanhedrin had bought his ruse hook, line and sinker. Hence, the Sanhedrin’s ignorance of Antichrist’s coup.
“The coup, as you know, had been scheduled to take place on the second day of the siege of the Temple Mount by the elect. Ergo, several of the half-angels of the Lord that had been mobilized to defend the elect were about to be handed a severe beating.
“It was touch and go from hereon: as soon as I had received intelligence concerning the coup, I issued an order to our battalion to disengage from the blockade and return immediately to base. Alas, my warning of Antichrist’s ambush proved too little too late. Our underlings under Ariel’s command were already walking into a literal minefield.
“I realized I was needed in the enemy lines to prevent a massacre of our underlings. Maintaining my invisibility so that I was perceptible only to our warriors, I promptly left my station at the command post. I thrust myself into the vortex of the on-going skirmish. Mortars and rockets were raining down on the Halflings.”
Gabriel jumped in: “I remember. I spotted you in the air. I was at the forefront of the battle when I received your warning of the ambush. I immediately commanded Ariel’s men to fall back.”
“Right,” Michael said, “you were giving your orders in the foreground. In the meantime, I spotted Mish, not far from the front line, unknowingly stepping into a conflagration. With no time to warn him, I swooped down on him. I completely covered him with my body and wings, shielding him from the mortars detonating around us. He never saw that coming at all. My body took all of the pummeling but I remained unscathed. It was when his face abruptly contorted in agony that I realized I had dislocated his shoulder. I picked him up and negotiated a safe route to the MASH post where your company was awaiting him while tending to the wounded. As soon as I found you among the Medics, I informed you of your underling’s shoulder.”
“He was in agony from the dislocated shoulder,” Gabriel added, “but we needed to return to the battle front. I ordered my men to watch out for each other till I got back. My orders to Mish to stay put were very specific. Before leaving the MASH post, I asked the Halfling, Zechariel, to look after the fledgling’s shoulder.”
“Indeed, our work was far from over,” Michael stated, “since the battle for the Temple Mount involved the unseen forces of Satan. We hastened back to the command post where we braced ourselves for Lucifer’s advance. It was nightfall before I would see either you or Mishael again. I had returned to base a few hours earlier to oversee the treatment of our wounded and fallen warriors. Our casualty that day was high even though we had successfully repelled Lucifer’s army. Sometime in the evening, I caught sight of the fledgling from the corner of my eye. He had arrived shortly before the rest of his fellow-warriors in your company. He had relinquished his angelic persona and his left arm was in a sling. He looked askance at me but kept mum, making a beeline for my office – as if he were on a mission. On the way there, he tossed his Katana into a corner.
“That’s highly out of character, I remember thinking. But where our enfant terrible was concerned, I had learned early on to refrain from boxing him in. It wasn’t too long afterward that I would see you emerging from the swinging door. You were still kitted out in your Commando livery, by now covered in mud and grunge, and hadn’t yet shed your human appearance. Your chiselled features were marred by frown lines. Of course, this was always disturbing to me.”
“Indeed,” Gabriel laughed politely. “Well, I had a lot on my mind that evening. Chiefly, I was concerned about Mish. I asked if you had seen him check in. You nodded, cocking your head in the direction of your office. You reminded me that that was where he usually liked to nap at the end of the day, away from the haphazard crowd. I acknowledged your reply even though it didn’t do much to realign my mood. You started to press me for more information but I had already started for the office.”
Michael continued: “On your way, you informed me that the fledgling might have sustained a sword wound. This was when I dropped everything to follow on your heels. We found the fledgling close to the door of my office, not dozing on the couch as usual, but prostrate on the floor, on his stomach. We went on to roll him over.
“He caught my hand and gripped it; mind you, he was gripping it quasi-tightly . . . and then he warned me not to touch him. ‘I can sleep it off,’ he told us with his usual derring-do; we ignored him but rolled him over, careful to avoid subjecting his injured shoulder to further trauma.
“While you were unbuttoning his trench coat, I caught sight of the blood that was still seeping into the satin lining of his coat. Very gently, I tore away his shirt; now that was a delicate mission since the shirt was already caking with his blood and sticking to his skin. The next thing I knew, you were growling with gritted teeth at the bloody hole in his abdomen.”
“Well, I was stunned at the severity of his wound,” Gabriel explained, “since I wasn’t expecting to see a hole that deep. His blood was leaking into the top of his pants; I had to press my fists down to stem the bleeding. By this time, the fledgling was in a swoon from loss of blood. His lips were the colour of ecru.”
Michael continued: “‘Who did this to you?’ I asked him. He shook his head, answering my question in snatches: ‘Couldn’t tell. Face was veiled. Wings . . . had dark wings.’ Then you began chiding him in a cross tone.”
“No; no, no, no,” Gabriel rebutted, “I wasn’t cross with him. I told him so. I was cross with whoever had carried out the assault. I was right to chide him, however: he was trying to conceal his injury from us. This was unacceptable behaviour. I explained that to him.”
“Well,” Michael explained, “all his actions had always been motivated by the desire to be seen as courageous: his denial of being injured; his defiance at being admitted to any hospital. In fact, he had started to plead with me not to commit him to a hospital. He was so desperate and adamant that I indulged him; I summoned for Raphael to assist us instead. He was beside us within seconds of my telepathic request. The healing angel made his assessment of the fledgling’s condition in quick order; he observed that Mish had had a narrow escape, but his wound was not a mortal one.”
“It certainly was a narrow escape,” Gabriel interjected. “Considering the depth of the lesion, it could easily have been a mortal wound – half an inch was all that stood in the way of a ruptured artery. Raphael proceeded to pray over the wound. The hole supernaturally sealed up before our eyes. At the healing angel’s insistence, the fledgling was later admitted to the Medical Centre at Petra for a blood transfusion. Mish was in hospital for twenty-four hours. At this stage, you wanted more information about the assault.”
“Right,” Michael stated, “I asked you what you knew about it but you weren’t able to say to a certainty. We drew aside to discuss the matter. It was your belief that the men were no longer in combat at this stage, so the assault couldn’t have occurred during the Temple Mount blockade. As for the assailant, according to the Halfling, Ariel, it was an angel he’d seen attack the fledgling from behind. Mish had been taken completely by surprise. The fledgling had been lagging behind in the line, following the rest it seemed. Ariel would later let his men pass so that he could follow behind his younger brother, to make sure Mish did not lag too far back. That was when he sighted Mish’s assailant.”
“It wasn’t only Ariel’s testimony that an angel had attacked our underling,” Gabriel reasoned. “The other men were willing to attest to it, too. They maintained that there had been a brief struggle before the offending angel struck the underling. Unable to reach Mish in time, Ariel shouted a warning to his sibling before firing a shot at the enemy. The gunfire from Ari’s Ingram stunned the enemy, thwarting his plot. The rest of the troops broke up to give chase but the fledgling’s assailant managed to lose them. No one knew what became of the fledgling at this juncture. He must’ve somehow managed to teleport to our garrison on his own.”
“If I may be honest,” Michael stated next, “I had felt stunned by your explanation but, in my estimation, a piece of it lacked credence. I knew my angels. I knew and trusted them all. I doubted that any one of our own had turned to Lucifer’s side. It would’ve devastated our company’s morale if it truly had been one of our men that had betrayed the Lord.”
“You weren’t the only one with doubts, to be frank,” Gabriel admitted. “I had my doubts as well. Ariel did, in essence, save his sibling’s life: Mishael’s circumstances could have been a lot worse if Ariel hadn’t alerted him and his troops to the enemy. Just the same, it was dark outside, so Ari might’ve been mistaken about the identity of the assailant. When prodded, he wasn’t able to identify, without the slightest doubt, which of the Lord’s angels was responsible. Mish, himself, had mentioned that the assailant had dark wings. Well, that individual could have been anyone of us. Any number of our angels possesses dark wings. Even you and I – depending on the colour of the sky or water reflecting off our wings. As for the other eyewitnesses, no one could identify the assailant with absolute certainty. According to them, his face had been concealed in a hood. This was when I went out on a limb to suggest that it was likely one of the Fallen Ones that had accosted the fledgling. I made that conclusion on the basis that these shape shifters were capable of masquerading as angels of light. Moreover, the Fallen Ones had the tendency to mask themselves with hoods.”
“You also went on to suggest that the fledgling was being specifically targeted,” Michael reminded his colleague.
“I did,” Gabriel concurred. “I was aware that, since being cast out of heaven, Lucifer’s forces had been targeting all the Halflings in our brigade that were a threat to Antichrist’s cause. Ariel and the Reisig brothers, Jeremiel and Eranael, were the subjects of Antichrist’s ambush several years prior to Mishael’s assault.
“Ari nearly lost his life when one of the Antichrist’s snipers shot him in the head. As you’re well aware, he was in a coma for three months after that. Jeremy suffered cranial injury as well and needed half a year to relearn to speak and walk. And as far as Eran . . . well, that dear child’s still suffering from PTSD today as a result of being blindfolded and pushed over an eighth-floor balcony four years ago. In fact, all the boys are continuing to deal with some form of PTSD today. My own son walks a tightrope each time he’s on a tour of duty to ensure his migraines don’t endanger the saints he’s protecting.
“Hence, Mish isn’t the first of our younglings to be targeted for ambush by our enemies. And he has one virtue in common with the rest: his ability to accomplish every one of his assignments successfully.”
“Mm,” Michael grunted. “You were right, then, Gabriel. And you’re still right. You are. However, there is one glaring difference between Mish’s assault and those of his kindred. Whereas the other three had been mysteriously ambushed by Antichrist’s men, Mish’s attacker was an angel. This, of course, is cause for concern since Mish’s attack is in violation of God’s dictates.”
“It’s treason all right,” Gabriel opined. “Any angel that carries out an attack on the Halflings is violating God’s edicts. It’s a gut feeling but I’m staking my life on Abaddon’s being the culprit since he’s the one that has recently kidnapped the fledgling from his own home. But I’m not ruling out the sneaky Belial, or the slippery Dagon, or even old Beelzebub and Ashtoreth themselves. It could also be the work of a lesser demon or evil spirit doing the bidding of the ones the ancient pagans used to call the Titans.”
“Nephilim,” Michael added.
“Indeed,” Gabriel replied. “Since the start of the Tribulation Hour, the Nephilim race has been proliferating in number, masquerading as the earth dwellers’ extraterrestrial brothers, you know, the ones the New Age devotees claim are responsible for seeding the earth, causing life to begin on earth. Their appearance is in fulfilment of the prophetic Spirit of Deception that has been sweeping across the earth.
“One of their missions is to downplay and deceive the nations as to the reality of the Church’s Rapture in order to prepare them for the lie of the Beast, known in Christian circles as the Antichrist. Another is to convince the nations on earth that the False Prophet’s ecumenical religion, coupled with their advanced intelligence, is the only redress for society’s cultural rot. Ultimately their goal is to persuade mankind to worship Antichrist who, in exchange for their worship, promises them a new era of peace and liberty – liberty from the economic and ecological catastrophes that have this world mired.”
“As I said, it’s a breach of the Lord’s ordinances for these ones so much as to touch the Lord’s holy angels without His permission,” Michael reiterated.
“Yes,” Gabriel rejoined, “but when has that ever stopped any of the Evil Ones from proceeding with their mendacious plans either to destroy the human race or to turn our holy angels against the Lord? As long as they lead as many as they can to the Lake of Fire with them, they think it’s open season on both the saints and the angels of the Lord.”
“But we know that that’s never going to happen,” Michael replied. “The Lord’s sacrifice on the cross is once and for all; the tragedy of sin and rebellion will not be repeated for, otherwise, it will be an endless cycle and the Lord’s great power and justice will never be demonstrated. The rebellion in heaven has ended with creation’s redemption fulfilled at the Lord’s cross, and the holy angels are sealed in Him forever. This includes Mishael and his kindred.”
“Aye,” Gabriel concurred. Then, he added: “Speaking of kindred . . . greetings, Zechariel.”
The Halfling, Zechariel, had entered the ward. “Greetings,” he replied. “I’m here to give Mishael his medication.”
My elders deferred their discussion to allow my daily shot to be administered. This contained a sedative.
Nice, I thought. This will no doubt knock me out.
“We were right, that time,” Gabriel resumed as soon as Zach had left. “Mish wasn’t simply the victim of a senseless and random act of violence. He had been targeted. And I’m going out on another limb to suggest that targeting him, this time around, isn’t a random decision by Abaddon any more than the incident two and a half years ago. I’ve no doubt the two attacks are connected and, quite possibly, masterminded by the same person or entity. Abaddon may be the brainchild behind it . . . or a conduit in the connection.
“But make no mistake – Abaddon has had his sights set on Mishael from the beginning; I believe he was the one that had ambushed Mish from behind and, some two years later, he would return to finish what he had started. Only difference is, where he had sought Mish’s demise that time, this time around, he was angling to turn him to Lucifer’s side. Either way, the eventual result would’ve been the same: Mishael’s destruction. Abaddon’s ultimate goal is to usurp for Lucifer the throne of the Lord by compelling all the holy saints and angels to worship the Devil. Well, Mika, this is my theory.”
“You’re probably right on the money,” Michael agreed.
Gabriel continued to theorize: “I dare say that the incident of the apparent stolen jeep three months prior to the assault on Mish had, all along, been part of our enemies’ scheme, as well: manufacture a divergence among the Lord’s angels that cast doubt on the fledgling’s integrity and alienate him from his kindred and brethren. Unravel his support network to weaken him emotionally, so that he was already vulnerable and this made it easier to attack him physically.”
“If you’re right about that,” Michael suggested, “then, it would explain why it always appears to be Mishael who’s in some trouble. Our adversaries have been purposely spinning an intricate web of predicaments to entrap the fledgling. Looking back, I believe the sign was there from the beginning but I had done nothing about it.”
“What do you mean?” Gabriel asked.
“It has something to do with what Mish told me a long time ago,” Michael explained. “Mish was still a baby, a fourteen days’ old baby. I was taking him away from training to shop for snacks and clothes, apart from his angelic tunics and robes, things that young men wore like jeans, T-shirts, coats, so that he could blend in when he would later be deployed. We had driven a company jeep into Petra City. At lunch time, we stopped to eat at a bistro. We were waiting for the fledgling’s lunch to be delivered when we started talking.
“‘Daddy,’ he asked, ‘have you issued an order for my billet to be watched?’
“I shook my head: ‘No, son, why?’
“Mish shrugged saying: ‘I think I was being watched last night. It was about three o’clock when I was woken up. I was instantly drawn to the window. For the next few seconds, I was beholding the face of an angel outside the window. He was huge. His head was the size of a beach umbrella – it spanned the length and width of the window. He had voluminous red curls that were partly blanketed by mist and enormous violet eyes that were gawping keenly at me. His lips were pressed together tightly but the corners were turned up in a forced smile. Then, I blinked to remove the sleep from my eyes. When I looked again, he was no longer in the window. It’s not in my place to cast aspersions at a brother, but it’s creepy to peep through somebody else’s window in the dead of the night, don’t you think? Especially at someone who’s sleeping.’
“‘Are you sure you didn’t just have a dream, son?’ I asked him.
“‘Yes, Daddy,’ he said, looking quite annoyed at me. ‘I’m positive I didn’t just dream it. And, yes, it was a foggy night, but it wasn’t the mist I saw shaped like an angel, so, please, don’t even go there.’
“‘Well,’ I replied, ‘would you be able to identify him? Do you know his name? Have you met him before?’
“Mish shook his head: ‘Negative, negative and negative. I don’t think I’ve seen this brother around our garrison before – at least, not in the week that I’ve been with the family.’
“I asked him, after that, if this angel had made him feel afraid, uncomfortable or threatened.
“‘A little,’ he had replied candidly, ‘I felt spooked to be watched. I know because my heart was palpitating. I told you that he was smiling faintly at me, but it wasn’t a friendly smile.’
“Mish’s lunch arrived at this point. I neither asked nor said anything more after that. I didn’t want to alarm my son with my suspicion that the Enemy could be watching him. I enquired of the angel, Abishael, later that evening; Abishael was adamant that none of his sentinels had been making the rounds of the barracks that night. Abishael’s own suspicion was that the angel might have been one of the Evil Ones, one of the ones mankind used to call the ‘Watchers’. Mish made no further mention of the incident or the angel after that. From that time forth, I had consigned my thoughts to my heart that the Fallen Ones were observing our underling for some reason.”
“It does sound like the activity of the so-called Watchers,” Gabriel opined. “There is one Watcher known to us that fits the fledgling’s description of the red hair and violet eyes: the fallen angel, Azazel.”
“Aye,” Michael concurred. “As I said, right from the start, the sign was there that our foes had been taking an interest in our underling. I’m only sorry I had been insouciant about it that time. Ah; I’ve already erred in two past decisions I’ve made that concern our underling. I’m doing a substandard job at being his handler. I’m too protective of him, too much of a Dad and not enough of a General.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, old friend,” Gabriel assured his colleague. “This is your first outing in the role of surrogate father and handler. It’s a delicate balancing act: you want to coddle him because you see him as your son; on the other hand, you want him to fulfil his duties as God’s soldier. There’s something from your experience as a father figure and handler that, perhaps, the Lord wants you to learn. As for the fledgling: you’re right that our enemies have been taking an interest in him. He’s seen as a threat to Antichrist. Of course, every Halfling’s birth has always been regarded a threat to the Enemy but it’s not been a problem for us in the past. With Ariel’s generation, who were the firstborns of the Halflings, the Evil Ones knew their boundaries and upheld the Lord’s strictures, which the Lord had designed to ensure that our young ones were always protected and safe. It’s only recently that Abaddon’s been so bold as to test the boundaries by accosting our underling.”
“Abaddon may think he’s bold,” Michael opined, “but he’s a fool to think the Lord does not take thought of His own laws and who violates them. Abaddon is familiar with the law: the saints and angels, including the Halflings, are sealed in the Lord. They’re not his to recruit into his army. He knows very well that the Lord has not put His seal of protection on the Halflings without also ensuring that breaching His decree carries a penalty.”
Gabriel stated: “Abaddon’s deliberately being recalcitrant. Well, we were faithful to protect the fledgling after his first assault. However, when the attack was not reprised and, with Mish growing more skilled and adept at taking care of himself, after two years, the need to watch out for him became less urgent.”
“And there lay our error,” Michael opined. “From that moment, from the time we began suspecting our underling was being targeted by our enemies, we should’ve had the foresight to prepare him for the possibility of further encounters with them. I take full responsibility, of course; I made the decision to withhold knowledge of his assailant from him.”
“It’s not too late,” Gabriel suggested. “We should make plans to put the Halflings on pre-emptive training in the event of similar confrontations with our adversaries occurring again. Indeed, the Lord has not intended for the Halflings to engage in war with demons and fallen angels; nevertheless, He’s given us authority over the Halflings. It’s up to us to protect them with all the resources at our disposal – and this includes equipping them with the skills and tactics for hand to hand combat with the Evil Ones.”
Michael acquiesced: “All right, bring it up at the next elders’ meeting. In the meantime I want Mish to put his memory of Abaddon behind him in order to have all the peace and quiet he needs to recover from his assault. It’s going to be a long and hard road to full recovery – and I’m not merely referring to his physical recovery.”
“We’ll get him through it,” Gabriel vowed.
My Commander was rising from his chair. Nudged out of my soporific state of consciousness, I overheard his conversation with the angel, Uriel. Something about, “being needed in Borneo”, and, “making my way there in quick order”.
I was going, too – going under. The invitation to sleep was too irresistible.
“Does your paternal inclination have a like desire to hole him up in a safe haven some place and throw away the key, never letting him out into the world again?” Gabriel asked unexpectedly.
“Indeed it does,” Michael replied. “But that’s never going to be our call.”
“No, that’s never going to be our call,” Gabriel finally said. Thereafter I would hear his gentle footsteps fade out of the hallway.
I was fading out of wakefulness as well; as I did I thought of the day I would be discharged from hospital.
That day finally arrived. I was whole. I felt whole – physically.
The Archangel was standing behind me, inspecting my new wings. “The feathers in the speculum appear to have assumed the shade of pewter,” he commented.
The angel, Asahel, nodded: “These wings are not merely the old ones restored. They’re new wings: Yah has bestowed on this boy stronger and more pliant wings. They’re going to serve him very well.”
I had been given a clean bill of health. “Not a vestige of last week’s injuries evident,” he expressed, concluding my final examination, “as if they never happened. There’s not even a scar. However, Mishka has post-traumatic scars that Yah alone can heal for him.”
Michael crossed round to stand before me. He bore out Asahel’s prognosis with an affirmative nod: he was only too familiar with my hidden scars.
An orderly had been dressing me in the clean raiment Michael had brought me: my tunic, surplice and sandals. Taking over from the orderly, Michael proceeded to button up my surplice.
I glared silently at the battle-weary General. I remembered that whenever I did that, I had always felt as if I were staring into a mirror; for I was his scion, wasn’t I, and the closest living image of him? Together with the angel, Gabriel, he had taught me everything I knew.
The General’s eyes were, suddenly, locked on mine, evincing their sadness. I had sensed this sadness in him all week. Ashamed, I cast my gaze southward, avoiding having to make further eye contact with the one I loved more than myself. And not bearing the thought that my behaviour and his failure to apprehend it were about to leave the close bond, we had been sharing, in tatters.
Michael thanked the Medics on my behalf, requesting in his solemn voice: “Leave us, please.”
Asahel and his staff deferred to the General, departing at once. As soon as the last of them had left, noiselessly shutting the door behind him, I said to him: “Nothing’s changed. I haven’t changed my mind, but I don’t want to talk about it either. I don’t want to trade angry words with you, now or ever.”
Michael gave a cursory nod. Stretching an arm to my head, he cupped my face with his palm. I collapsed, unconscious, into his arms.
