“Nothing I’d believe,” Tracy said.
Reen leaned his back against the door and crossed his arms.
“Humor me.”
“The angels had a big meeting with farmers and old men from the outer lands. Most are saying it was just so people could let off steam. Nothing’s going to change.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Reen said.
Tracy gave him an exasperated look.
“If you heard more, then why are you asking about my rumors instead of telling me what’s bothering you?”
Reen grunted.
“Was hoping you knew more than me, that’s all. The men at the tavern are saying the angels are thinking of executing all murderers and rapists, regardless of their confessions.”
Tracy’s face darkened. The subtle fear he saw was like a dull knife stabbing into Reen’s belly.
“I thought you weren’t going to taverns anymore.”
“I didn’t drink anything,” Reen said, raising his hands. “Honest.”
Tracy settled back into her chair, but the fear still lingered. Reen thought of how he’d been when he came home those many nights. He never laid a hand on her, hardly even yelled at her, but no matter how hard she pretended not to, he knew she saw the blood on his clothes. How else would the stains be gone the next morning? How late did she stay up trying to hide the proof of his sins? The guilt was heavy, unrelenting ever since he started his two years of sobriety. Ever since he killed his friend, Charles.
Ever since the angels.
He hadn’t meant to, of course. It’s not like he was ever fully in control during those nights. Charles had said something to him, and no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many times he dreamed of that moment, Reen never remembered what it was his friend had said. A bawdy joke, perhaps? A jovial insult? It didn’t matter. Something about it had set off Reen’s temper, and he’d struck his friend in the stomach with all of his drunken might. They’d both come home bruised and bloody on multiple occasions, but something about the location of his fist, the way Charles’s body had been unprepared, came together just perfectly. Charles had lost his balance, and within moments he’d begun to vomit blood.
It didn’t take long for the angel to come. In his stupor, Reen never even learned the angel’s name, but he knew the reason he was there. The sword on the angel’s back had been more than enough. There’d been dozens of witnesses, no need for Reen to confess, no real mystery to the trial. Charles had lain before him, for Reen had not left his side, not even when his friend’s body had begun to turn cold. Something about the angel, the understanding in his voice, the compassion in his eyes, left him feeling naked. He confessed to it all, and not just Charles. His drunkenness, his greed, his willingness to kill and maim. Feeling so lost, so afraid, he’d bowed his head and waited for the blade to hit.
But it hadn’t.
“I think your old friends at the tavern are too drunk to think straight,” Tracy said, pulling him from his memories. “Ashhur wouldn’t let his angels do that. It goes against everything he teaches.”
“Perhaps,” Reen said, joining his wife before the fire pit. “But I don’t see Ashhur around to stop them.”
Tracy reached out and grabbed his hand, kissed his rough fingers.
“Go to bed,” she said. “You’ll be up far earlier than I.”
Before Reen could answer he heard a sound he immediately recognized. It’d haunted his dreams for months, encapsulating everything about that horrible, broken moment when Charles had breathed his last breath, gagging on his own blood. It was the heavy sound of angel wings. And just like then, he felt his blood freeze.
“Reen Sanderson, come forth,” called a voice from beyond the door.
Tracy leapt out of her chair, clutching her blanket to her chest as if it might protect her.
“It’s not what you think,” she said. “You aren’t right. Reen, you can’t be…”
He kissed her, then went to the door. When he opened it he found three angels waiting for him. For the moment their weapons were sheathed, and he prayed that was a sign.
“Yes?” he asked them.
“Our council has convened,” the middle one said. Reen noticed the angel refused to meet his eyes, instead looking slightly upward. “We have capitulated to man’s law, recognizing mankind’s authority to rule themselves as Ashhur has granted.”
“Don’t give me that,” Reen said. “Tell me why you’re at my door this late an hour. Let me hear it in plain speech.”
“Plain speech?” said the first angel. “So be it. Your sentence of murder is no longer stayed. Please step forward, and let us carry out justice.”
From behind him he heard Tracy make the faintest of cries. In truth, he wasn’t taking it much better. His legs felt weak, and it was only because he held the door that his hands were not shaking.
“Why?” he finally asked.
“That’s not why we’re here,” the middle angel said. “Step outside, Reen.”
“You forgave him!” Tracy shouted, her stupor broken. She rushed to Reen’s side, clutching his arm as if to never let him go. “You can’t do this, you can’t. This is what I prayed for all those years. Don’t you see, he’s not the same. He’s not the same!”
Reen saw the determination in the angels’ eyes and knew there would be no salvation for him, not this time. With a firm hand he pushed his wife away, holding her wrists to keep her from striking him. As she cried, he kissed her forehead, then stepped out of his home and into the street.
The commotion had woken many of his neighbors, assuming they’d even been sleeping in the first place. Doors opened, and eyes peered out from windows. None dared ask what was going on. Reen walked forward, into the middle of the three angels. His legs felt like they belonged to someone else. His heart pounded, and he almost laughed as he felt an insane desire for a drink.
“On your knees,” said one of the angels, drawing the sword off his back. Reen obeyed.
“Know that this punishment is for your body alone. Your confession was true, and your forgiveness remains. If your heart has remained pure, you will be welcomed into Ashhur’s arms, and all the heavens will sing in joy at your arrival.”
Reen nearly laughed at the absurdity as he felt the sharp edge of the sword touch his neck.
“Reen!” Tracy screamed behind him.
He shifted so he could look at her one last time. He remembered when he came home two years ago, suddenly given new life by the angels and left with only a single command: to go and live a life without sin. At his wife’s feet he’d collapsed and told her everything. Before he felt it leave him, before he felt his old habits return with a vengeance, he’d told her his desire to change. He’d told her he couldn’t live with that guilt anymore, couldn’t stand her pained looks, her forced silence, and the quiet prayers she offered up in his name when she thought him asleep. Despite his tears, despite how miserable a being he felt, when Reen had looked up at his wife he’d never seen her gaze back at him with such joy, such love.
Now he saw terror. Now he saw betrayal.
Reen glanced up at his executioners, and he spoke with a voice stronger than he thought himself capable of. Not only the angels would hear, but his wife and his neighbors gathering to watch in subdued silence as well.
“Ashhur will welcome me,” he said. “My soul’s been bought. But will he welcome you?”
There was fear in the angel’s eyes as he lifted the blade, and there was anger.
These weren’t the eyes he’d seen when he’d hunched over Charles’s body. They were something else. He lowered his head, clenched his fists.
“Do it,” he said. “Do it, you damn cowards, do it!”
The last thing he heard was the whistling of the blade slicing through the air.