Chapter IV

In the Cathedral of Pearl it was quiet and warm, the two suns flooding everything with soft yellow light.

A SWEET, ALMOST SENSUAL perfume drifted through the air as if it was sewn into the molecules of oxygen. Michael walked slowly, considering his next appointment. He nodded at a couple of elderly looking gentlemen in long, blue robes who were discussing something very esoteric. Souls in Heaven had all the answers in the universe at their fingertips. Michael wished they could give him the right answers now.

For them, life on earth was a distant memory; a fleeting thought that had once occupied a small part of their journey. But after you pass through Purgatory, and on to the higher planes of existence you shed your earthly thoughts. Michael didn’t have that luxury. The earth was a very real place for him. Perhaps, it was more important than was Heaven, for if they made the wrong choices, Heaven and Hell might collide into something unrecognizable.

He made his way down the long hallway and ascended a flight of ivory stairs.

Before him was a long rectangular passage that had two rows of large statues, one on each side of him. The statues were the different prophets that had been sent down to earth in the last couple thousand years. They were all looking upward, as if in some silent prayer to God. Michael walked between them, his hands gently folded in front of his gown.

Uriel walked out from behind one of the statues and turned to Michael as he approached. Though shorter than Michael, he was quite an intense being, whose stature was much larger than his physical presence. Uriel walked between Heaven and Hell; one wing tip bathed in God’s grace, the other dipped in the blood of the darkness that Lucifer and his Dark Angels had created. He was the only Angel who was granted such access. Not that it was such a gift. Uriel had seen things that one cannot ’unsee.′

Michael looked over his old friend and a delicate smile crossed his otherwise stoic face. “How are you, Uriel?”

Uriel’s large dark eyes seemed to be made of liquid as he blinked. He could see things others couldn’t; things others wouldn’t want to see. “I think we’re playing with fire on this one, no pun intended.”

Michael’s eyes glanced up as if he was one of the lifeless statues that surrounded them. “Try as I may, I will never understand the mind of God.”

Uriel waved a cautious finger, “No, no. Don’t lay this on Him. You and

I have done this thing. Us. And we shall have to live with the consequences.”

“It is His will, my friend. We are doing what must be done,” Michael replied.

“You know,” Uriel said as he turned his head to statues, “wars have been started like this. What will happen when others find out what we have done . . . making deals with our enemy, asking for favors? It’s not the kind of thing that will inspire faith in your leaders.”

“It’s mutually beneficial for all of us,” Michael said as if it was a simple financial transaction.

“We’re not trading land for cattle, here. Michael . . . you and I have made a deal with the ..• the •.. “ Uriel didn’t even want to finish the sentence. His voice lowered.

“Lucifer.”

“Yes, our old brother Lucifer.” Uriel walked to within a few inches of Michael, their eyes locked together. “I don’t think that this can be controlled,” Uriel whispered. “Maybe we should stop this before it gets started.”

“It’s far to late for that, now isn’t it?” Michael asked, but it wasn’t really a question. “The dice have been rolled, yes. But it is a pitched game.” Michael turned, taking Uriel under his arm as if they were old golfing partners. They slowly walked as Michael took a long deep breath through his nose. “Do you smell that?”

Uriel didn’t understand why Michael was so bloody glib. Perhaps it was all just some fanciful game to him. It’s a lot different when you’re the one talking to Lucifer, the monsters crawling beneath your feet. “What are you getting at Michael? I don’t have time for riddles and games.”

Michael laughed to himself. “You have a great deal of stress coursing through you. Trust in the Divine power of Him. Everything has its purpose, whether we understand it or not. Whether we agree with it . . . or not. At the end of the day we are still soldiers, following orders. We do what we are told and the universe is a balanced because of that.”

“Easy to say from up here. But it’s quite different down there in the unpleasantness. I will always do what He wishes, whether I agree with it or not, but I fear that we are helping to start the End of Days. We are skirting the edges of free will, here, and I think we shall all pay the price.”

“Perhaps,” Michael said. “But that is no longer our concern.”

“Fair enough,” Uriel said as he stopped. “What now?”

“Now we wait. We standby and wait for your,” Michael looked forward trying to pry the name out of the sweet smelling air.

“Deegan Prost.”

“Yes. Mr. Prost. We wait for him to get close enough to Mavet that we can put our hands on him. Mavet returns here and is dealt with in an appropriate manner.”

“And then what will we do with Mr. Prost?” Uriel asked carefully. “You know that he has just gone to the Vatican. He believes that Mavet will be there very soon. He thinks he almost got him in Brazil.”

Michael ran his fingers through his long, black hair. “How is Sariel doing after his encounter with Mavet?”

“I don’t know,” Uriel said flatly, “I don’t really socialize with your crowd up here.” He ran his tongue along his lips as if he didn’t like the taste. “We can’t relate to each other.”

“When Mavet had been apprehended by Mr. Prost, we will send Sariel and a large contingent of Guardians to retrieve our lost friend. We will make sure that there are more than enough Angels to take Mavet without mishap.”

Neither one of them wanted to mention the killing of one of their brothers during the first attempt to bring Mavet in. Michael lowered his head. “I may have underestimated—”

“Not now, Michael. The time for mourning and regret must wait. The question that I have, and that I think you have already considered is ’what are we going to do with Mr. Prost after this is settled?”

“Well,” Michael said as he stood up, his words turning cold and sharp,

“Mr. Prost has done more than enough during his life to earn a place at the end of an Angel’s sword. Let him die for his part in the capture of the three Angels. Let him die for choosing Hades over Heaven. Let him die for a lifetime of evil.” Michael’e eyes locked with Uriel’s. “But he will die. I’ll see to that.”

“And what do you think Lucifer is going to do when we cross him like this?

He is expecting to have Mavet delivered to Hades, no questions asked. Don’t you think that could cause more problems?”

Michael looked around the room and then closed his eyes. “The opinion of our old brother doesn’t both me. The Great Battle is approaching, now. It will soon be here. Whether or not we take one of his little monsters will make no difference. War is war, and there’s no stopping it. He has neither the forces, nor the desire to jump start the Great Battle. He needs the time more than we do.”

“You have put me in the position of lying to him,” Uriel said through clenched teeth.

“He is the Prince of Darkness,” Michael reminded. “He is all that is black and unholy in this universe. We’re talking about Lucifer.”

“My word is the only thing that keeps me alive down there. Without that, I have nothing. He would rip me to shreds if he even suspected a hint of treachery.”

“Come now, Uriel,” Michael said condescendingly, “Do you really think that Lucifer believes you are just going to hand Mavet and Mr. Prost over to him because you have an ‘agreement’? Certainly you are not daft.” Michael leaned forward as if he was a father talking to a child, “He sent Mr. Prost, knowing that this was a one-way mission. Casualties of war. I suspect that Mr. Prost knows it, too.”

“I won’t kill him,” Uriel said as he turned away. “Not because I like him, or because any part of me wants him to stay alive . . . but because I gave my word to Lucifer.”

“A monster above all others,” Michael spat.

“Once our greatest brother, beloved by God above all others.” Uriel reached the end of the large chamber, near the stairway of ivory. He turned back and looked at his old friend, so consumed with power and righteousness that he was becoming blind to the future. It was a dark future that Uriel could see forming very quickly. And he was the one being in Heaven that had the sad luxury of watching the cauldron bubble. Things were going to change. Very soon, this place, Hades, Purgatory, the earth plane . . . all of it would melt together into a large battleground. He took a deep breath and knew that it would never smell this sweet to him, again.

“I love you, brother,” Uriel said to Michael. “But I will not kill Mr. Prost. That is blood that you will have on your soul. It is a scarlet letter that you alone must bear. I will bring you your Angel . . . our ‘lost’ brother. But I will honor my word.” He shrugged. “It is all that I have left.”

Michael nodded. He knew that Uriel was right, and at the same time was certain that Mr. Prost has earned his place in death, and not an earthly death, either. No, this creature needed to have his soul ripped apart and spread through the cold, lifeless universe.