“I didn’t agree to Jehovah stealing my memories,” I said, pulling arguments out of my ass. Searching for a loophole.
“You did, actually. You made a deal. Jehovah sends the rebel to your prison instead of the hell He created for him, and you serve as reaper in this world until your term is complete.”
“Yes, Mae’eldeesahn told me that much. But why take my memories?”
“Prior knowledge of where you came from would influence your duties here.”
“In what way?”
“Father considers this a probationary period. If you cannot obey His laws, you will be banished. And what better way to make you follow the rules than to take your memories, the memories of what you are and what you’ve done? You were at war for hundreds of thousands of years in your dimension. You came out the victor even though you profess to crave peace. Still, you won. That knowledge could influence your decisions here, as they are now.” I shook with anger until he added, “It was your idea, after all.”
My brows slid together in disbelief. “Why would I do such a thing?”
“Do you know what war does to a being, even one as powerful as yourself? The memories are excruciating. Perhaps you are who you are now because of their absence. Perhaps you wanted to forget what you did to win.”
“Why? What did I do?”
Reyes had stepped beside me. He wrapped a hand around my arm.
“That is not my concern. What you do in this world is—as is restoring a soul that has already been freed. One that has already left the vessel. It is forbidden.”
“These people would not have died if Eidolon had not killed them. It is not just.”
“That is not for you to decide.”
“So”—I kneeled down, threateningly close to the girl—“if I restore these people, I will be banished?”
“Cast from this world forever.”
Anger shook me so hard, my teeth chattered.
“Dutch,” Reyes said, trying to bring me back.
I felt the anger in him as well. Felt it tighten his skin and crave release, but I also felt concern. For me. For Beep.
Michael tilted his head, waiting for my answer.
But the rage that had been bubbling suddenly sprang forth. A sword manifested in my hand and in one blinding movement, I sliced into Michael.
A thin red line spread across his chest, and one corner of my mouth tugged heavenward. “There you are,” I said, mesmerized.
Despite the depth of the cut, he didn’t flinch. His men, however, drew their swords and readied for battle. Reyes did the same.
I was seconds away from summoning my own army when I realized what I was doing. Risking other beings, righteous beings, because … why? I was angry? I was spoiled? Was I throwing a tantrum because I didn’t get my way?
Maybe they were right. Maybe I was a god of war. Maybe I craved it. Lived for it. How incredibly irresponsible.
I shook out of my musings and focused on Michael. “Did you give Jehovah my message?” I asked him, referring to our earlier conversation where I’d promised to take over the world.
“I did.”
“And?”
“He will meet you on the battlefield at your leisure should you name the place and time.”
I stood taken aback. The battlefield? Fight? Jehovah? God? The same God I grew up worshiping and talking to when no one else would listen? I’d always known He was there, watching over me.
Still, I was angry. To wield such power only to have it suppressed. To have it caged when it could do so much good. I wanted to spout something super sassy, but nothing came out.
Michael seemed to sense my sudden inability to form a complete sentence. He stepped closer despite his angels tensing.
Reyes stepped closer, too.
“Elle-Ryn-Ahleethia, perhaps you’d like some time to think about it.”
“Yes,” I said, nodding. I glanced down at the sword in my hand. It was ancient, and I got the feeling it had already seen many battles. Too many. I was here for a reason, and that reason was probably not to take over this world.
The sword disappeared, and I shouldered past Michael to do what I could, what I was allowed to do. I knelt beside the woman with the plate of glass in her neck. Since we were still incorporeal, she couldn’t see me. She held on to the glass, knowing that removing it meant certain death. Blood bubbled out of her nose and mouth, and the fear in her eyes, the sheer terror, wrapped its tendrils around my heart and squeezed.
Before she knew what was happening, I melted the glass, put my hand on her throat, and healed her. If that was all I could do, that was all I could do.
Michael stood over me. Reyes at his side, making sure he didn’t get too close.
“It will be harder for you now,” Michael said, “knowing what you know. What you are capable of. You are like an addict who has gotten a taste of heroin after years of sobriety. Only if you fall back into old habits, you will lose your family forever.”
21
I ran out of coffee this morning. Tequila seemed a reasonable replacement. Everyone is so pretty today!
—MEME