A PALE HORSE

Momma Rose was busily cleaning her already spotless countertop when the chime above the little door to her bistro announced the arrival of someone. She deposited the washrag that she had been scrubbing with into one of many pockets in her voluminous apron and turned to the door, brushing her gray hair back from her face. She exited the small offshoot dining area into the main one, and looked toward the door to see who was entering. The smile that she wore was rare in the Quarter; a genuine smile for every person that entered her place. Where most proprietors there would give one pasted in place by years of under-tipping drunk partygoers, Rose was grateful and humble when anyone visited her. When she saw who it was entering her establishment, the smile was joined by a hurried jog to embrace the patron.

“Michel!” she said coming up and throwing her arms around him in genuine pleasure. “Ça fait trop longtemps! Où vous êtes-vous cache? (It has been too long! Where have you been hiding?” Rose broke into easy French around Michael, and he hugged her back and chuckled.

“English, Rose! Otherwise, you’re not playing fair!”

She went on, hardly cowed, “Well, fine then! Where have you been?“

Michael released his embrace of the diminutive woman and said, “I have been working, Rose, as have we all. It’s time to bring in some help.” He stepped to the side and allowed his companion to enter. “I believe you know Abe Sims?”, he said, one eyebrow cocked.

“Hello again, Abraham. So good to see you. Come, out of the street.” Michael turned to Abe and excused himself to talk briefly with Rose at a table. Abe watched as the old officer and the small woman sat and quietly chatted, wondering what sort of situation he had gotten himself into. “Michel, it really is so good to see you! But why now? I must know what you have been doing!” Momma Rose grasped his hands and spoke excitedly, but something in Michael’s countenance halted her questions and made her sit up, alert, and drop the angel’s hands from hers.

“Rose, we are going to have help, and not just Abe. Please,” he spoke, smiling, “call up to Peter and ask him to join us.” Michael saw the reaction from the old woman that he was expecting. Rose’s face fell at the announcement that Peter was to be involved. “Rose, this is a good thing! Peter so wants to be of use and to make a difference! He doesn’t completely understand right now, but that understanding will come! You know better than any that his day was coming… why so glum?” Michael questioned her, patting her arm.

“Master’s plan, Master’s time, Master’s choices,” she said,slowly as she worked toward calming her heart. “I only question it because I am his mother, as any good parent would when their child could be hurt- Michel, I AM his mother!”, she said to Michael’s raised, corrective hand. “I know that Claire bore him and raised him to adolescence, but I have kept him fed and safe and loved since he was seventeen, and I love him as if he were of my womb, right alongside my Jeanne. I will not fight this- God knows He”, she pointed to her tiled ceiling, but indicated well beyond it, “knows best, and I trust YOU to take care of Peter. Surround him with our best and make him the hero I know him to be, Michel. That is my ask.” While she spoke, tears escaped the corners of her eyes, which had finally crinkled into a weak smile.

“I would not bear this lightly, Rose. What you give to the mission today is precious, and I love Peter. Do not forget that we have been well connected for these thirteen years. I will not let anything befall him.” Rose stood, grasped the angel tightly, and then reached into her apron for the washrag she had deposited their earlier. She wiped the table where they had been sitting, brushed off her hands, smoothed back her hair, and dabbed at her eyes.

“Let us return to Abraham. Incidentally, what does he know?” she asked.

“Just what he knew years ago, and he’s about to find out the rest, so we will need sugar and caffeine in copious amounts. Abe is going to be a very strong asset, as will Peter. This is exciting stuff!”

Michael hugged her again, smiling, and she said, “Come, I will get you two seated and call for Peter.” She led the two men to a small room at the back of her bistro. The room held a small table and chairs for four. This was where Momma Rose and her daughter, Jeanne, took tea in the afternoons. Strange, she thought, that this room where so much light and airy conversation had taken place, most not the least bit serious, would be the setting for something eternally significant. There is eternal significance in everything, she reminded herself. Even in the mundane conversations between mother and daughter that happen over afternoon tea. The sunlit winter streamed through the small window directly to their right, and it cast the room in an otherworldly light, as if their meeting were being tended by the Master Himself, which, she knew, was true. Momma Rose liked the space and thought how appropriate that it should all start here for Peter. HER Peter. If Peter were to be used of the Master, to her there was no greater calling, and she was going to be supportive and proud, just as if it had been Jeanne that had been chosen. Plus, she told herself, she had Michael’s assurances, and, if you cannot trust an angel, who can you trust? She looked back at the two men who trailed her, and watched them as they entered; neither man walked timidly. Both Abe and the angel walked with confidence and strength, albeit a bit more slowly in Abraham’s case, she thought. His years had caught up to him recently, but she knew him to be a wise tactician and a caring and patient mentor. Michael was right; he would be a valuable member of the team. Momma Rose gestured for them to have a seat and said, characteristically, “Michel, I know you do not eat, but,” Rose turned to Abe, “you look like you could use something to eat, oui?”

She turned to let herself back into the kitchen when Michael called after her, “Whoa! Not so fast, Rose! You don’t even know what he was after, do you?”

She turned back to the table, huffed slightly and smiled. “I have been feeding this wonderful man on and off for years- he will take a black coffee and two hot beignets, as always. Isn’t that so, Abraham?” Michael looked slightly dazed, and Abe burst into laughter, pointing at his friend.

“Oh, man! You should see your face, Mike!” Then, to the small woman, “Yes, Momma Rose, that is exactly right!”

Michael just shrugged and said, “You know, she really doesn’t miss a trick, does she? Glad she’s on our side!”

“Ok, cap- ‘our side’? Seriously, what is happening? What are we about to get into here?” Abe was visibly frustrated, still not exactly sure where he was or what was transpiring. Ignoring him for the moment, Michael spoke again to the woman. “Rose, please call up to Peter and ask him to join us,” he repeated, for Abe’s benefit this time. The smile on Rose’s face faltered a bit but she nodded once and was out the door calling for her daughter to take over the shop.

“What’s going on, Mike? What does she mean you don’t eat, man? I’ve seen you take out an entire pizza before!” Michael grinned, sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin, considering his answer. Abe went on, “Also, it doesn’t look like she wants to bring Peter into whatever it is you want me to get involved in. I don’t know how to feel about that.” Abe looked at Michael with an arched eyebrow.

“This is a plan long in the making and you and Rose are players in this great game.” Michael told him, arms spread to encompass what Abe imagined was everything. “When I explain who we are and what the mission is, you will have a choice to make. If you decide it is not for you, then no harm, no foul. Life goes on... but I know you, chief. You are one of the most selfless humans I have ever met. Over the thousands of years you all have been around, anyway. Abe, before you ask- here it is, again, just like I told you in that field hospital in Bahrain thirty years ago- I’m an angel, well, actually THE angel, His First. I’m Michael, and you’ve known that in your heart for a while. That”, he gestured to the symbol hanging around Abe’s neck, “is my sigil, and you’ve been under my protection since 1990. You have been chosen for the greatest mission, which”, he motioned to the back stairs and the noise of Rose descending, “you are about to find out all about.” Abe sat agog, but only briefly.

“You’re right, and that’s weird. I DID know it, somehow. This is heavy, though”, He sat, contemplating, and the angel almost laughed at what he knew was coming next. “You REALLY don’t eat?” Michael laughed and shook his head no. He reached over to grab his friend’s hand and said, “I know this is a lot to take in, chief, believe me. You CAN say no.“, Michael said with the confidence of someone who didn’t think a rejection was going to be coming.

“You would tell me this and then let me go back to my normal routine, knowing the information you told me?” Abe asked him.

“I guess you will have to take my word for it.” Michael said to him, “We don’t force people to help us, we ask… nicely. I will say this, Abe,” Michael shrouded his face in seriousness, and Abe paid closer attention, if that were possible. “I have known you half your life, and I know the man... the SOUL you are. You will accept, because you have ALWAYS been meant for this! You are a man of honor and love and sacrifice is in your blood… just like someone else I knew, a long time ago. You remind me of him.” Michael smiled and started humming under his breath, Abe couldn’t make out the words, but the greatest sense of peace and warmth spread throughout his body. He relaxed back into his chair, a smile on his face and waited for the other parties to gather. A few moments passed and Momma Rose came back into the little room carrying a tray with four cups, a pot of steaming coffee, a basket of delicious beignets, and a plate of sliced, fresh strawberries. Abe watched as Momma Rose set a beignet in front of him, “Bless you, Momma Rose,” Abe said as he picked up his beignet and tucked in.

Momma Rose smiled and said, “It is my greatest pleasure! I love when people enjoy my food so much.” She turned to Michael and said, “Peter will be down in a moment, and Jeanne will watch the bistro while we talk. Michel, tell me about my Peter. What is his role? I worry…” she said, trailing off.

“I know, Rose, but this is the chance we have been waiting for! I feel that now is the right time to have this conversation. As you are aware, Peter has recently remembered the events that have led him here and we have already discussed the things that are harder to believe. He BELIEVES them! He is ready!” Michael told her earnestly, “I think that if Peter has accepted the outlandish truth, now he just needs to accept his role and our mission.” Michael finished. Abe sat listening, wide-eyed, wondering what was coming. Peter backed through the door at that moment, a beignet clenched between his teeth, another in his hand, along with a mountain of napkins and a cup of coffee. He turned to the table and came to a complete stop. He saw that Michael was sitting next to Momma Rose, and his mind started to work, furiously. Michael and Momma Rose obviously knew each other, but did she KNOW Michael? He was dressed in a polo and jeans, and he looked a bit different than the last time he had seen him- a bit older, maybe? And he seemed more clean-cut, like a soldier, but there was no doubt it was Michael. He also noted that the man from Dr. Jo’s office, Abe, was also among them at the table, and he looked sort of confused. What was going on? He was pretty sure that introductions would be made and was proven correct when Michael jumped up and came around the table and clapped Peter on the back.

“Peter, it is good to see you again!” said Michael, grabbing the napkins and his coffee. Michael pulled a chair out and set the coffee and napkins down, taking the other beignet out of Peter’s hand, placing it on the plate in the middle of the table. “Peter, I think you two have crossed paths if we have done our job right, but let me introduce you anyway: Abe Sims, he is an old and dear friend, as well as a talented pilot. Master willing, you two will be working together soon.” Peter finished off the beignet in his mouth, swallowed, brushed the powdered sugar from his hands, and reached out to shake the old man’s extended hand.

“A pleasure to meet you formally, Abe,” Peter said. He turned and spoke to the small woman wringing her hands with worry. “Momma Rose, ce qui donne? Tu le connais?? ( What gives? You know him??)” Peter asked her in confusion.

Michael rolled his eyes skyward, smiling, and reiterated for Peter’s benefit, “English, folks! We aren’t going to get anything done with French today.”

Momma Rose looked at Michael and then at Peter and said “Michael and I are old friends, Peter, much as you two are.” Rose gave Peter a knowing look, and Peter’s sense of confusion grew until

Michael, who still had his arm around Peter’s shoulder, pushed him into the nearest seat and said, “All in due time, Peter. All in due time.” Peter sat back against the chair he had been pushed into and noticed the food and drink on the table. He looked sheepishly at Momma Rose, and she just shook her head and laughed.

“Always you think with your stomach, mon chou. Today, I think, you eat all you want. And listen.” He helped himself to another beignet and some coffee and waited to hear what needed to be said.

“Peter, we already had a discussion regarding the things that go bump in the night, but do you mind if I bring Abe up to speed?” Michael asked him, “I promise that I will get to why you are here in a moment.” Peter looked at Abe who shrugged, so Peter did the same to Michael. Michael smiled and turned to Abe. “Do you remember the stories that I used to tell you in the cave? While you recovered from your injuries so long ago?”

A look of confusion wormed across Abe’s features and he muttered, “Sure do, those stories were some doozies.” Abe said with a grin, glad to be back in familiar territory.

“Everything I told you was the truth.” Michael looked Abe straight in the eye as he said those words and Abe got the feeling he was being judged on his reaction.

“Everything? None of what you talked about was believable, Mike, and some of those stories were pretty scary. Of course, what you just told me a few minutes ago is right up there, so….” Abe said. He stopped and shrugged and repeated, incredulously, “Everything?”

Michael nodded to Abe and said, an eyebrow raised “Everything.” Abe swallowed and thought of all the stories of creatures that preyed on humans and the angelic forces that fought against them. He had enjoyed listening to the stories in the Zagros, anything to take his mind off what was happening around him and how much pain he was in. He had thought at the time that his young officer friend was an excellent storyteller; that he may go on to be a great author or screenwriter someday, and he appreciated the man giving him something to think about other than his impending death at the hands of the insurgents. Abe looked up into the blue eyes of his longtime friend and could see the truth behind his statement.

“Okay. Wow!, but okay.” he said, “What does that have to do with me?” Abe asked him. “I’m too old to go out fighting monsters! I’m not some damn Terminator!”

Michael chuckled and said, “I wouldn’t want you to fight in that way, we have… people for that.” Peter and Abe looked at Michael with the same confused look.

“You have ninjas? Oh, please tell me you have ninjas! When can I meet them?” asked Peter with awe in his voice.

Michael chuckled again, “Yes, and yes, but not right now. Now we are having a different conversation. I want to tell you about the organization. It’s old, it’s vast and it was put together to fight the creatures you were told about… and some you weren’t. Needless to say,” said Michael, rising from his seat to do his usual pacing, “you are being thrown into a diverse mix with a lot of resources, skill, and firepower. Let me tell you how you guys can be heroes.” Michael, turning toward the light-effused window, smiled and raised his hand in a small salute. Turning back to the table, he continued, “As I’ve said many times to both of you, we need your help.” Michael pointed first to himself and then at Momma Rose. Peter looked from Michael to Momma Rose, aghast.

“We? You know about this? KNEW about this?” Peter asked Momma Rose, rising from the table roughly. Rose winced a little at the hurt in Peter’s voice, but answered him with an affirmative shake of her head.

She spoke softly, “Mon chou, it was going to come. I was going to tell you… how could I not? I just did not know that day would be today, in this place.”

“Do not be angry with her, Peter,” Michael said, coming to Momma Rose’s defense. “She has been with me… US, a long time and came here to watch over and protect you. Everything she has done, she has done out of love and duty.” Michael told him. “Remember when I told you that there would be others put in your path to help you?” he asked. “Momma Rose was sent when the enemy first recognized your family, Peter. She was there when you were bitten by the snakes, and she was watching you the night the enemy took your parents.” Michael’s voice took on a hard edge and Peter was stunned by the implication of the words that Michael just uttered.

“What do you mean ‘taken’? They weren’t taken… they died in an accident! Are you telling me that my Mom and Dad were killed? By monsters?” Peter asked Michael, overwhelmed and angry. Stammering, he continued, “So, so, so… if we were under YOUR protection, why did they die, huh? Who’s purpose did THAT serve?” Peter asked the question that he had been thinking, not sure if he really wanted to hear the answer, as Rose started to softly cry.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Michael said, reaching out to steady Rose and put a calming hand on her shoulder. “We were there the night they died, but the grunch were there as well…” Michael’s voice trailed off and Peter spoke into the silence. “Grunch?!! No. No! They don’t exist!” he said, shaking his head. The grunch were terrifying when you were six or so, but became a sort of joke to the rest of the bayou adults. Grunch were little bloodsucking troll things that mommas scared their unruly babies with. An old wives’ tale. An old wives’ tale that had murdered my parents, he thought sadly. He shook his head again and said, as if willing it to be true, that somehow the words could undo what had been done, “The grunch do not exist. They don’t exist!” Still, he thought about everything Michael told him about vampires and werewolves. If they exist, then logically the grunch exist, too. Everything he ever feared exists, apparently.

“Yes, they exist, and a group of them ambushed your father and mother as they were driving back to your home that night. We had one of our agents following their car because our intel had told us the Collective was moving and your parents had been made, but the sheer number of them that night was astounding. Your father tried to evade them, but the grunch are related to the vampire and possess the same unearthly speed. Even after our contingent thinned their numbers, they were still too many. Your father lost control of the car trying to get away and it crashed... off the bridge into the water. The grunch had our people tied up and they couldn’t get to your parents in time.” Michael crossed to stand behind Peter and convey with his face the sympathy that he felt for the young man. “They never made it out of the car.” Peter wasn’t aware he was crying until he felt a drop on his hand. It had been years since his parent’s death, but he still missed them. Peter returned to the table and wiped his eyes on his sleeve, sitting, almost missing the chair.

This is so much for him to take!, thought Rose. Not a boy, no… not anymore, but still so naïve in many ways! She wished that she could spare him… continue sparing him, from what he was learning now. She tsked and handed him a napkin, stroking his hair. Peter smiled sheepishly at her and with a thank you blew his nose in the napkin.

“So, that’s it. Monsters are real, the world is doomed, and we’re supposed to somehow save it?” Peter was processing, speaking out loud, and suddenly seemed to remember that he was not alone in the room. He turned to the angel, “Thank you for telling me about what really happened to my parents. I knew they had drowned that night, but the sheriff’s department could not find a reason for the accident. It wasn’t raining, my parents weren’t drinking, and I remember that my father had just put tires on the car before the accident. It never made sense to me,” Peter said.

“Buckle up, kid,”, came Abe’s voice from the opposite side of the table, “because I have a strong suspicion that a lot more stuff won’t make sense before THIS day is over!”