“Maybe I could be taught,” he began. “Camael says that if a union occurs properly—”
The old angel chuckled, a condescending laugh that Aaron had heard so many times in his life.
“Teach you to be our messiah?” Belphegor asked. “No, Aaron. The true One spoken of in our sacred writing will be coming, just not right now.”
“But the Archangel Gabriel said that I was God’s new messenger,” Aaron argued.
“Then he was wrong,” Belphegor emphatically stated, and picked up the dishes, signaling an end to the conversation.
Aaron felt empty, as if being the savior of the fallen had actually begun to mean something to him, warts and all. He was about to offer Belphegor some help when there came a frantic rapping at the front door. Gabriel immediately sprang to his feet and began to bark.
“Come in,” Belphegor called out, turning toward the front door, arms loaded with dirty dishes.
They heard the sounds of the front door open and close, followed by rapid footsteps. Scholar rushed in through the living room clutching a notebook in one hand. “Belphegor we need to speak at once…” His eyes found Aaron’s and he fell silent.
“Good evening, Scholar. Aaron and I were just having dinner. May I get you something? Some coffee, or maybe some pie?”
The silence was becoming uncomfortable when Scholar finally spoke. “I need to speak with you in private, Belphegor.” He tore his eyes from Aaron’s and raised the notebook toward the old angel.
“Come with me,” Belphegor said. “Excuse us for a moment, Aaron.”
The two left the dining room, leaving Aaron to wonder what had gotten the angel so riled.
“So you’re not the Chosen One, then?” Gabriel said, distracting him from his thoughts.
“I thought you were asleep,” Aaron said, leaning back in his chair and watching the doorway to the kitchen.
“You’d be surprised what I hear when I’m asleep.”
“He doesn’t think that it’s me. It’s no big deal. I always knew there was a chance that Camael was full of it.” He looked at his dog lying on the floor by his chair.
“What does this mean for us now?” Gabriel asked earnestly.
Aaron shrugged. “I don’t really know,” he said, for the first time in a long while considering a future that didn’t involve the angelic prophecy. “I guess it means we can get out of here and get back to finding Stevie.”
“Do you think Camael will come with us?”
Aaron didn’t get a chance to answer, for at that moment Belphegor and Scholar returned to the room. There was a strange look upon the old angel’s face and Aaron saw that he was holding Scholar’s notebook. It was open and Aaron could see parts of drawings that he recognized, sketches of the symbols that appeared on his body when he allowed his angelic essence to emerge.
“Is everything all right?” Aaron asked. As of late, fearing the worst had become as natural to him as breathing. It wasn’t the greatest way to be, but at least he was always prepared.
“Were you serious about being taught, about wanting to learn?” Belphegor questioned.
Aaron nodded, not quite sure what he was getting himself into.
Belphegor handed the notebook and its drawings back to Scholar. “We’ll begin your training immediately.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Camael sat on the forest green, metal bench in the tiny playground, his angel eyes detecting the resonance of things long past—ghosts of children and families who had once played here. It had been seven days since he and Aaron first arrived in Aerie, and the former leader of the Powers was having to deal with ghosts of his own. He thought of those he had destroyed during the conflict in Heaven, and those slain after the war when he was performing his duty as commander of the Powers host—obliterating those who were an offense to the Creator. Since finding Aerie, he’d been thinking of them more and more, their faces and death cries haunting his every moment.
Should I be allowed to stay here? he wondered. For if he had found this place before his change of heart, before the realization that the killing had to stop, he would have razed it, burned it to ash in a rain of heavenly fire—and God have mercy upon those he found living within its confines.
A crow cried overhead as it circled a gnarled and diseased tree growing to the side of the play area. Its caws voiced its uneasiness with the area, despite the fact that it was tired and wanted to rest. The animals knew that the Ravenschild development was poisoned, Camael realized; they could taste its taint on the air rising up from the earth. The place had the stink of man’s folly, and the blackbird, knowing it did not belong here, flew on in search of another place to rest its tired wings.
Do I belong? Camael deliberated. He had searched for Aerie for many hundreds of years, but had he actually earned a place here? The faces of those who fell before him were slowly pushed aside, replaced by those he had saved. He could still hear their plaintive words of thanks and feel their touches of gratitude. Despite the violence he had wrought in the ancient past, he had still managed to do some good, and he would need to hold on to that as a drowning man would latch on to debris adrift in storm-wracked seas.
And what about the Creator? His mind frothed with questions for which he did not have answers. Does He look upon me with disdain, or pity? When the time comes, will I be permitted to go home?
The sound of claws upon the tar path interrupted the angel’s musings, and he turned to see Gabriel trotting toward him.
“Camael, have you seen Aaron?” the dog asked, stopping before the bench.
The angel shook his head. “Not since this morning. I believe he is still with Belphegor.”
“It figures,” Gabriel responded morosely.
“Is there a problem?” Camael asked, curious in spite of himself.
The dog hopped up onto the bench and sat beside him. “He’s never around anymore. I see him early in the morning when he takes me out and gets my breakfast, but then he’s gone all day and he’s too tired to play when he gets back.”
Camael slid over on the bench, away from the dog. He and Gabriel had developed a grudging respect for each other, but he still did not like to be too close to the animal. “I believe that Belphegor is attempting to train Aaron in the use of his angelic abilities.”
“And that’s something else I don’t understand,” said the dog indignantly. “First they think Aaron is a lost cause and now they can’t seem to get enough of him. Besides, I thought you were training Aaron.”
“It would seem that Belphegor and the others have at last seen in Aaron what I found several weeks ago,” Camael explained. “What that something is I cannot tell you, but it was enough to gain their trust and free us from those damnable restraints.” The angel unconsciously rubbed at his wrists where the magickal manacles had recently been removed.
They were silent for a moment, two unlikely comrades pondering a similar mystery.
“I miss him, Camael,” Gabriel said as he gazed into the playground. “I feel as if I’m losing him.”
“If Aaron is indeed the One foretold of in prophecy, you are losing him to something far larger than your simple emotional needs. He will be the one that brings about our redemption—Heaven will open its arms to us again and welcome us home,” Camael said.