Cam wandered aimlessly for some time, ignoring the masses of people on the streets. The sun was high and fierce, occasionally covered by heavy clouds that drastically cooled the air. His mind was a mess with chaotic thoughts, none of them coherent.
Eventually he focussed enough to find a location to sit and think. When he looked up, he saw the tall spires of a cathedral, surrounded by greenery. It took him a moment to determine his location and realise he was at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, on the south side of the city. The cross high up on the peak of the cathedral sent a chill through him. He wasn’t surprised that somehow, he’d end up in a place like this.
He made his way through the gardens, feeling both tired and strangely restless. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that for angels, he and his brethren were not so entirely holy. Their original, pure selves required blending with humankind in order to live on the planet, which accounted for a certain level of corruption and flaws. Somehow that hardly ever seemed to bother the other angels—that they admitted—but Cam had never been that comfortable with the idea. Angels were holy beings, beyond the confines and understanding of this world, but they needed the flaws and faults of humanity to fight the demons.
He recalled what he’d read in Balthiour’s notebook as he sat on a bench outside the cathedral, hoping to clear his mind by focusing on something. His heightened memory pictured the words perfectly.
Miniel, my love, Balthiour wrote. I can feel you. Or at least, I hope it is you I feel. We will be together, once I fully understand the darkness inside me.
Balthiour and Miniel had been so happy together. Some considered them the best coupling of two angels ever seen on earth. When Miniel was scratched and unable to be healed in time, she had to be killed before the darkness spread through her and turned her into a demonic angel. Bal must have gone through the same thing, but purposely chose not to be healed as a way of being closer to her. Maybe Cam could use his infection as a way of being closer to Sephiaza.
A sharp tingling ran through him. He tried to move his arm and pain flared in his shoulder, causing him to gasp. The effects of the demon’s infection had been well documented, but experiencing it first hand was an entirely different, excruciating matter.
He mastered his breathing and focused on his memory of the notebook.
It is clear to me that the demons are the stronger force, as they are willing to go where the angels dare not. They do not care about using raw powers on earth, to manipulate time and pure power sources for their own benefits. The angels would never consider such things. And if they ever did, the demons would be too far beyond them to be a danger.
Manipulating time…. Like how Sephiaza brought her adult son to the present day. Raw power sources… like the pure demons. It was true, Cam knew; the demons were willing to manipulate the laws of nature to a greater degree than the angels.
His phone rang and vibrated. He pulled it out, seeing Rathanael’s name on the display. Cam’s shoulders sagged with relief at seeing he was still alive. The others must have seen their hideout, perhaps noticing that Bath’s mobile was missing and decided to call it. Or maybe Sean called the others to tell them of Cam’s absence. He let the phone ring until it stopped, and then turned it off. The others would only complicate things further.
He recalled some more of what he had read, becoming lost in Balthiour’s words and thoughts. As Cam went on, a part of him felt as though he was beginning to understand what he had gone through. Bal sounded so mad, so unhinged, at the time. Cam couldn’t see what he was saying. But now…
Another sharp stab jolted through his arm, catching his breath. Wincing, Cam pulled his sleeve up and looked over the wound. The skin around it had darkened more, with strong lines of purple and black forking outwards from the gaping hole. Suddenly a hot pain exploded and he keeled over. He lifted his head to the sky, gritting his teeth, his eyes watering, and recited several prayers with great fervour. He lost focus when the pain overwhelmed him at times, but fought on until he finished each prayer. Somehow, he felt, being close to the cathedral helped him get through it.
Cam shook his head, breathing heavily and sweating. He’d spent enough time contemplating and trying to understand his situation. He was running out of time. He pushed himself off the bench, staggering before righting himself. There was no other course of action for him now. No more angels would die because of him. It was time to face Sephiaza.
***
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“How crazy do you think he is?” Sean asked.
“Well,” Barratt said. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a brother so troubled.” He drove them along the Liffey, heading to meet with Rathanael and the others in town.
When it was clear that Cam wouldn’t return to the coffee shop, Sean decided to go ahead with their plan to regroup. Barratt was more than reluctant to help, but Sean had managed to convince him enough at least to drive him to the other angels. Small steps led to greater accomplishments.
“I told Rath to call Cam,” Sean said. “Maybe he can get through to him. Did you notice how pale he was?”
Barratt kept his focus ahead.
“What?” Sean said. “You’re not telling me something. You noticed, right?”
“I did,” Barratt said. “See what the others think of it.”
Sean frowned. “You know, I can tell when someone is lying.”
Barratt gave him a quick sideways look. “And how did you acquire this ability? A detective, perhaps? A Garda?”
“Actually I was a 3D Supervisor at a tech company.”
This caused Barratt to raise an eyebrow. “And just how does a 3D Supervisor join a gang of angels?”
“Angel Squad, I call them,” Sean said. “Well it’s not like I applied with a CV and took a test or anything.”
“No fitness test involved?”
Sean shrugged. “I used to be a big gym rat, five days a week for a good six years. And then… my wife got sick, and nothing else seemed to matter.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“She got better eventually, thankfully, after a long struggle. Our boy was too young to really remember the ordeal, but it affected our older daughter a fair amount. That was a few years ago, now. But, just as we thought we were finally getting our lives back together, we found ourselves in the middle of an angel and demon fight. One of the beasts reached my wife and children before I could get to them. I ran towards them but could only watch as they were…” Sean swallowed, his throat tightening. Barratt gave him time to collect himself, navigating through the traffic.
“In the aftermath,” Sean went on, “I had nothing left but anger and revenge. The angels were there for me, helped me become a person again, and somehow I just wasn’t able to leave them. I knew my place was with them, to help their cause and make sure no other innocents were killed. I thought I could be the guy that helps clear people away while the big guys fight.”
Barratt nodded slowly. “Admirable. You have a strong heart, I can tell. I’m glad my brethren have you by their side.”
“For all the good it’s done…”
“Many things are beyond our control,” Barratt said. “What matters is how we handle what’s within our means, and understand what is not.”
“I know,” Sean said. “Bath said something similar to me once.” He sighed harshly, his voice leaving him. “She was a great woman,” he eventually said.
“They all are.”
Sean thought of the son Cam said he had. All angels were great people. If his son was part angel, did that make him a good person, too?
“And you?” Sean asked. “Cam said you lost someone close, and fought an infection. You care to shed any light on why you left your brethren?”
Barratt gave him another sideways look. “I do not.” He grinned as he turned back to the road.
Sean nodded. “Fair enough.” He tightened his hold on Balthiour’s old notebook. He was sure that one of the other angels would be able to cypher something from it.
He looked around them. They weren’t too far away now.
***
The square below flowed with summer revellers. Vass recognised the sight: the end of the work day. Every bit of grass would fill with people; the pubs and cafes flooded with their consumerism. He loathed every one of them and, at the same time, wished he could be a part of their world.
He sat on a high tower, overlooking the Smithfield Square, relishing the quiet air around him. It was time to head back to his mother, but he had one last thing to check before he did so.
It was a strange thing, to have the memories of a life he’d never lived. Plucked from a future where he grew up raised by Sephiaza on Earth, growing up with the humans, almost as one of them. Most of that future existence had faded at this point, but Vass still had vague memories, mostly feelings, of what his life had been like. He knew one thing for a certainty: he had always hated his mother. But his father… he was an enigma. A warrior of the light who was drawn to the dark, plagued with doubt. A part of Vass couldn’t help but admire the man, for all his naiveté. If only he could believe in Vass.
At least his mother knew what he was capable of. If she had one redeeming quality, it was that she always wanted the best for him, and had given him everything he needed to train and grow. He had these memories both from his future life and from the past year in this time. Eventually he realised that she was only trying to turn him into a weapon to use against his father, but Vass didn’t care, he had enjoyed spending time with her.
Somewhere along the way she stopped trusting him. Vass assumed that she stopped liking him, perhaps disappointed in how he turned out. Maybe he could get closer to his father instead.
A dusty truck pulled into the edge of the square below. Vass watched as the angel, Barrattiel, exited along with their human ally, Sean McMurphy.
Good, he thought. They have enough sense to regroup with Zuriea’s team.
Vass smiled to himself. His mother had always said he had a great gift. If only his father knew he and Vass were connected; that they could sense each other and share knowledge. So far it had only been a one way communication, Cam inadvertently sending signals out to Vass, likely because he had not known of his son’s existence.
Vass could have jumped down and taken them both out, but then where would the fun be in that. Let the angels mount their assault, if they liked, and may the stronger side win. It made little difference to Vass, who had always been on a side of his own.
He grinned as he rose to his feet. This day had more importance than any of them knew, and more surprises for them all. He could feel it.