The Archangel Files
The Eagle
by the Last Boy Scout
"Williams! Cover!" the sergeant shouted at one of his green platoon members, as the unit dug in as best it could. The German Army had surprised them all, again. A winter attack, from an army that was supposed to have been finished. The allies were only a few miles from the German border, and the Nazis had counter attacked. The Arden was a shooting gallery, and the 101 were the sitting ducks. Cut off from supply, from air support, or reinforcement, despite the commanding general's eloquent "Nuts!" to a call for the American surrender, it was seriously being contemplated. It was a busy time to be a priest.
"GODAMNIT PADRE! No offence but you keeps your ass down too!"
"Lieutenant Powell dead, Goldman dead, Sorly dead, Johnson and Alderman wounded, and not a damn medic in sight. You expect me Top to just sit around and watch them go to God?" Jake shouted back harshly.
"I expect you to have some common sense. The krauts got sharpshooters, and they…Ahh!" he grunted.
"Sarge's been hit."
"Here they come!"
"We gotta get out of here."
"Where the hell is the Armour."
"Fuck this fucking War, begin retreat."
"No!" Jake shouted. "This position controls the line for a half a mile in each direction we fold and half the division buys it.
"Those aren't American tanks out there sir, those are German 88's and they are coming this way."
"Hold!"
"I'm not following orders from you, you're just a fucking priest."
"I'm a fucking priest with an oak leaf, and you'll follow my orders corporal man your position."
"I don't care anymore, what are you going to do excommunicate me, rather that than meet God any time soon."
"As if he'd have you! Malachi get back."
"Germans! Hundreds of them!"
"Fuck this, all right boys follow me…..."
Malachi fell to the ground grasping his chest wound.
"You…shot…but your just a priest, you ca…can't do that…your supposed to be a priest…
"Any man that runs from the enemy will be executed for cowardice now man YOUR POSITIONS!"
Officially, Ian died of a lightning bolt while out for a morning run, one of those freak accidents that occurs unexpectedly, an act of God. Chris knew different, she knew who was responsible. Chris would have liked to admit that she was seeking vengeance for a murdered lover; but she had hardly known the boy. He was an innocent killed out of petty vindictiveness, and whose soul was very likely ensnared simply because he was near her. Christina Bishop nee Jacob Balus went after Alyson not out of vengeance but out of guilt. She had killed the boy just a surely as if she had thrown the bolt her self. The guilt consumed her, and it was not a new experience.
How many is it now Old man, Chris thought to herself.
42 that you know about for sure, dead at your hands personally, twelve of them knife work, close enough to see the life drain from their eyes. At least a couple thousand killed at your orders, in one war or another. And how many dead under your command? Come on old man, you know the number, kept it religiously over the years. How many souls were sent to heaven under your responsibility?
I wasn't responsible, I tried saving them, It's not my fault.
You're the guy in charge, its always your fault, come on how many?
One hundred forty seven, in one war or another.
All that blood on your hands, and you called yourself a priest.
I could tell you every last one of their names if you like.
And Ian Sikes is the next name on the list, and he wont be the last.
What would you have me do? Run away? Join a convent? Hope the nastiness just goes away?
You've been running away all your life, you ran toward God after the first war, what did that get you?
The fight is just, righteous, and necessary, like it has always been.
Sure, sure, tell that to Mr and Mrs Sikes.
Chris spent the next few days emotionally paralysed. She was perfectly functional. Whenever human contact was necessary she manufactured feelings but she could not summon up serious sentiments beyond apathy. She went to school, did both her homeworks, not out of any real drive; but rather out of a sense of duty. Like so much of her previous life had been.
One, long, accountability.
And she also watched Alyson, both inside school and outside, trying to get a read on her adversary, despite the recommendations to the contrary from Michael. It was something that only other humans would understand. The girl was forced to keep up appearances. It seemed even minions of Satan couldn't get a car before 16. So it was a simple enough procedure for Chris to follow her. Decades old training returning like it had never left, Chris made sure she wasn't seen.
Alyson hadn't done anything peculiar to draw attention to herself. She hadn't had any clandestine meeting in underground cark parks or late night romps through the city. She hadn't purchased any wicked supplies or instruments of torture. Hadn't done anything really, to make her appear anything but a normal 15-year-old girl. Which to Chris' mind, was suspicious as hell, she hadn't been anything of the sort before Ian's death. And if she was acting this way now, it was only because she didn't want anyone looking too closely at someone, that was already considered the school freak.
When faced with such a clear enemy, Jake Balus would likely have gone right in and killed her, commandments be damned. But Chris Bishop, while still possessing the same temperament was fully aware of her current situation. The Witch, succubus, or what ever the hell she was, was far more powerful than she. Chris had only managed a few weak bursts of power, and barely scratched the surface of the introductory book, let alone the whole library. After many tedious hours of practicing, she could warm up tea a bit, but that was it for all intents and purposes. Not exactly ready to combat a bitch witch from the back of beyond. Chris contented herself with keeping an eye on the creature, and not making any more friends as convenient targets. Sam though, was already her friend, and the damage was done, the 14year old spirited girl was one of the main reasons Chris was able to stay sane.
The two girls were entering the locker room preparing for gym class when they both saw Alyson. Chris hadn't told Sam everything, but enough that she suspected most of the stories were true, and to stay away from the senior. Alyson's class had just ended, and it was time for the freshmen now. Chris and Sam immediately went to the far side of the room to change, and were not fully comfortable until the girl passed by and out the door. She somehow accomplished both a smirk and a glare at the same time.
"What was she smiling about," asked Sam concerned.
"I don't know, and I don't like not knowing." Chris replied harshly.
"Chris I'm scared of her."
"You should be, but don't worry, I hear she may not be with us for long."
"Is she transferring out?"
"Something likes that." Chris replied with a smile.
"Well it will be nice to be free of her, though it's hard to think of a place where she could go," said Sam as she began undressing, including her undergarments to put on a sports bra.
"Why are you blushing so red," Sam asked her. "Its not anything you haven't seen a thousand times before, we've been in gym glasses together since the fifth grade."
"Yes, well you weren't quite so developed in the fifth grade."
"Oh Chris! You don't have to be so embarrassed, your only 14, you'll develop some more."
"Thanks Sam, that's exactly what I needed to hear," said Chris with a false politeness.
The twice-weekly gym class was different today. The usual instructor of girls gym, Cleo Mahler, was absent. In her place was a gigantic two meter tall man who could have challenged mister universe and won. Apparently this was the big strapping hero type Michael had told her about.
"This is a day for being frightened out of my panties, this guy looks like he could eat a jumbo jet for breakfast," whispered Sam.
"He looks harmless enough," contended Chris trying to reassure her friend.
"Good morning class," the man began in an indistinct foreign accent. "My name is Mister Smith. I will be your substitute gym teacher until Ms Mahler gets over her recent illness. We will begin today with a short run. Since it is raining outside I want you all to do twenty laps around the court. Please begin…NOW LADIES!"
The assembled freshmen girls quickly followed his orders, though it was a stretch Mr Smith probably outweighed the entire assembled class just by himself. Whether it was fate, or merely bad planning on Sara Bishop's part, she had not purchased a sports bra for her daughter. So the only support Chris had for her two protuberances was provided by Victoria Secret, which wasn't providing it very well at all. After two laps around the basketball court Chris, along with a fair number of the rest of the girls, was about to mutiny.
I thought we were supposed to be on the same side, Chris thought to herself.
Left foot, right foot, BOUNCE! I
Left foot, right foot, BOUNCE! Am
Left foot, right foot, BOUNCE! Not
Left foot, right foot, BOUNCE! Getting
Left foot, right foot, BOUNCE! Paid
Left foot, right foot, BOUNCE! Enough
Left foot, right foot, BOUNCE! For this
Left foot, right foot, BOUNCE! Shit!
"Mr. Smith are you OK?" asked one of the girls as she saw the teacher clutching his chest.
"I…Just need a, Ah, hit the…showers girls…class dismissed," finished Smith as he walked painfully out of the gym toward the boy's locker room.
"Huh," said Sam as she ran up next to Chris, in her sports bra!
"I guess there must be some virus going around for gym teachers," commented Sam.
"Yea, guess so," replied Chris not at all convinced.
"Mike!" yelled Chris after she dressed and got away from the other girls. "Archangel! get your butt down here."
FLASH!
"A little respect dear or I may have to get Old Testament on you," said Michael with a stern look at Chris.
"We really need to get a better system of communication worked out. How am I supposed to contact you if it's important?"
"Just like you did, call my name and I come a running, course you have to wait a bit even archangels need more than three seconds to extract themselves from what they were doing. And of course, if its not important, well Gabe and I came up with this…"
"This is important did you just see what happened in my Gym class."
"Sorry I was otherwise occupied, but I can back track a little let me see…shit."
"Yea," Chris agreed completely. "What happened to him?"
"He got sent upstairs the back way and has to explain himself to Pete, he has my sympathies."
"He's dead?!"
"As a doornail, fairly mundane as our line of work goes, poison. I guess the competition didn't want to go through the trouble of capturing his soul, just wanted him out of the game."
"Was he a registered agent?"
"Yes, but what do you want to bet the other side will completely deny this "rogue operation."
"That sounds like a suckers bet,"
"Oh it is," sighed Michael.
"You know Archangel, there are some times I wish we weren't the good guys. How can we expect to win if the other side never plays by the rules?"
"We just have to be better than them, in more ways than one. Now listen here, this girl is good,"
"Good?" Chris interrupted.
"You know what I mean, she's got skills, whereas you can barely heat a cup of tea. I don't like ordering it but I want you to seriously consider leaving this school until a replacement can arrives."
"And what about all the rest of the students, they don't know the danger, they are at her mercy. She's already killed two people that I know about and I've only been here a week!"
"And just what do you imagine you can accomplish, the only thing I can think of is cannon fodder, slowing her down a second or two that it takes her to take you out."
"If that's the only service I can provide then so be it," stated Chris assuredly. "God will surely know his own."
"I will expedite the replacement, it should be done tonight."
"Why can't you do it? She's like one hundred feet that way." said Chris waving her hand."
"Leaving aside, that Generals don't get involved in this sort of thing, or that we really have no evidence that she's guilty of anything."
"What do you mean?"
"We actually haven't seen anything, oh I know" Michael said stopping her argument before it could get started. "She looks guilty as sin, but if we just go in and whack her without the proper proof we loose a hell of a lot at the negotiating tables, all puns intended. But the big reason why I can't do it is I'm not really here."
"You mean like most people who claim to talk to a messenger of God I'm really talking to myself."
"In a manner of speaking, your one of my cases, and we have a special link, it enables us to communicate over great distances; but even I can only multitask so much. My presence has to be scattered to so many different tasks, that I only actually "exist" for special occasions. You can see me, hear me, and I can manipulate things physically, but as for using my powers again, only for special occasions."
"This doesn't qualify?"
"In the scheme of things no, the replacement will be there in a few hours. If I went in and did this thing, it would screw up a whole of a lot of operations right proper. As is, just talking to you while trying to do everything else is more than I can really spare."
"Very well Michael you just make sure this newcomer lasts longer than the last."
"I shall do my best."
FLASH!
Chris couldn't believe it, if there was any further evidence that Alyson was beyond redemption it was given in the cafeteria. Chris picked a table on the far end; but one that still gave her a full vantage point of Alyson. The witch was eating her meal like nothing had happened. She was even smiling and laughing with some of the other students, who were totally oblivious to sitting at a table with a multi murderess.
"You bolted out of the locker room pretty quickly Chris," said Sam as she and her boyfriend Tom sat down at the table with her.
"Did you hear?" Asked Tom concerned. "The new guy is dead, heart attack first day on the job. Make you wonder how most of our teachers survived as long as they did."
"Yea I heard," replied Chris not taking her eyes off of Alyson.
"You don't think, that she had anything to do with it?" asked Sam following Chris's line of sight.
"I think she had everything to do with it," she replied certain.
"But I…,
"Listen to me, Samantha I know you've done it before, so this shouldn't present to much of a problem. I want you to get your bag, and walk out into the parking lot like you're an open lunch senior, and just keep going till you get home."
"Chris what's going on?" asked a confused Sam.
"Just do it Sam! you too Tom, neither of you should be here for this."
"Be here for what?" asked Tom.
"I left my purse in my locker, I'll be back in a few minutes," added Sam as she got up to leave.
"I'll stay here, be careful Sam," said Tom not wanting to climb the three flights of stairs.
The only good point about they next few minutes, was that keeping her mind on Alyson, kept Chris from thinking about what the school deemed edible for human consumption. Chris had heard a story, and from her days on funding committees she had no reason to doubt it, that a student had once come across the meat package used in the kitchen. "Grade D: but edible". It's handy to have a republic administration every once and a while, just so they could slip a couple of million dollars into a religious school's meal plan. But the students didn't seem to mind that much. For a normal teenager, if it was hot, ample, but most importantly there, they would eat it. But to the former Bishop's educated and refine palate, it was indigestible. There were still some advantages in the 21st century to being a prince of the church.
Suddenly Alyson jerked her head up and looked straight at Chris' table a small flash in her eyes. Then quickly and unceremoniously she gathered up her things and left for the common area. Chris got up to follow her.
"Where you going Honey," said Tom as he put his hand on Chris shoulder.
"I have to go Tom let go please," Chris asked as she reached for her bag.
"But we haven't really talked, can't we get to know one another." He said smiling.
"Maybe later Tom," said Chris, not at all amused. A few minutes away from his girlfriend, and he was already putting the moves on another, and after a quick examination, Chris saw he had a little pup tent in his pants.
"You know the janitor keeps the closet next to the Math lab unlocked. Even if he walks in on you, all you have to do is give him five bucks. What do you say we test the laws of probability."
"Ah no thanks, "said Chris uncomfortable.
"Come on you know you want it, " added Tom tightening his grip.
"Let go," shouted Chris as she forced the boys hand from her shoulder and walked away, following Alyson.
Technically as a freshman, Chris wasn't supposed to be in the halls during her lunch period. So it was cautiously that she followed Alyson from the commons area and then up to second floor into the Library. Despite her best attempts to remain hidden, the witch spotted Chris several times following her, and was more aggravated each time.
Good thought Chris to herself if she's nervous and angry that means she's not thinking straight, makes her sloppy.
"SEE!" shouted Tom, as he surprised Chris, and grabbed her from behind. "I knew you wanted some, you headed straight for the closet."
"To…" Chris tried to say but her mouth was covered, she couldn't speak a word.
"Oh don't worry, I know how much you want it. I'll even play your little games. I was always kind of in to sadomasochism."
Tom manhandled Chris into the janitors closet and then quietly shut the doors. In-between classes no one was in the halls to see them.
"Stop..Ahh!" Chris tried to scream but was punched in the stomach for her impudence.
"See, I am a very considerate lover. I didn't hit you in the face where it would ruin your good looks or your tits where it would ruin your pleasure. What say you return the consideration," said Tom with a wicked grin as his eyes flashed much like Alyson's did.
"Tom don't do this your not like this."
"Yes I am, I'm like this very much, " he countered.
"Think back Tom to what you were like before, that bitch has done something to you."
"The only bitch I care about is the one before me. Take off your clothes."
"Tom, please," Chris began to cry.
"You want it," he said as he began to rip at her blouse.
"NO!" she screamed as he grabbed her breasts
"Yes," as he continued with a ripping sound.
"NO!!!!!"
Chris wasn't sure exactly how it happened, but one moment Tom was about to rape her, and the next he was gone. As she gasped and opened her eyes, she could see the boy spread-eagled across the small room, several chemical containers knocked over. He had severe burns over much of his body, but his clothes were curiously untouched. Chris stumbled over to his body to check his condition, and a piece of her soul ripped away when she couldn't find a pulse. In shock, and struggling to get up and cover herself, Chris staggered out of the utility closet.
So, how many is it now Old Man. Forty-three of God's creations that you removed from his universe. And one hundred and forty eight dead under your responsibility. Of course we counted Tom Boone twice, but that's not the first time its happened, is it? Malachi wasn't even the first time.
Shut up! Chris yelled in her head.
No I don't think I will, told you Ian wouldn't be the last.
Shut up.
My but your stacking up a nice stack of bodies aren't you?
No! It's not my fault I didn't mean too.
And you were doing so well lying to yourself all those year. Convincing yourself that the black vestments would hide all the blood at your hands. You're not any better than what you fight.
No. I'm good.
Are you now? A real hero you are, what about that German baby face at Arnhem. You were captured with half a squad, the guard the Nazis left behind never suspected the old man with the cross on his lapel, until the quiet priest stuck a knife in his gut.
I had to.
Sure you did.
I'm the good guy.
Sure you are.
I'm the good guy.
It took him a really, really long time to die, didn't It?
I'm…
He couldn't have been more than sixteen years old, but then Tom was only fifteen . So, I suppose it was improvement of sorts.
For the rest of her life Chris never knew how she returned home. Perhaps things were ingrained on the body, because when Chris became aware of herself again she was in the shower. She had most of her clothes still on, and was being pummelled by the scalding water. Even after the large water heater had been depleted and the scalding became freezing water, Chris still did not leave her shower. Collapsed on the floor, she tried to have the water clean something from her that had couldn't be cleaned by water, her soul. In hindsight it must have been hours in that shower because it was her sister, home from school, that found her.
"Christy! Where have you been," Sally asked over worried. "The entire school has gone nuts, they found a sophomore's body in a closet, and they cancelled the rest of today's classes. I looked everywhere for you. What happened?"
"I…"
"Christy just stay here I'm going to get some towels. Try to get your wet clothes off."
But of course Chris couldn't accomplish any more physical an action than crying. The once brave and stubborn man had been reduced to nothing.
Soon enough Sara and Andrew Bishop arrived home from work, called by their elder daughters troubled message. But even her new mother could not get Chris to form any coherent sentences. In the end, the parents surmised something awful must have happened to her, and they simply held her tight, trying to comfort her in any way they could. After stripping off the wet clothes, the freezing Chris was dried off unceremoniously by her family, and dressed in pyjamas, even though it was only Three PM. Chris laid in her bed, wrapped up in her comforter, which wasn't very comforting, and her blankets. And she waited for oblivion to claim her.
"Mr Bishop?" the policeman asked as Andrew opened the door.
"Yes,"
"Is your daughter at home?" the officer continued unemotionally.
"Which one?"
"Um, Christina 14 years of age, present freshmen and Savio Prep," he continued after checking his clipboard.
"Yes she is home right now, but I'm afraid she is not up to speaking to anyone," said Andrew defensibly.
"She is a possible material witness to a homicide."
"What he means," Sarah Bishop chimed in as she got to the door. "By our daughter 'not up to speaking to anyone', he really meant to say Christy is near catatonic crying on her bed right now, and she wont even say a single word to us. I wont have you in here making things worse."
"Yes well," the policeman tried continuing under the mothers glare. "That matches the reports we heard. Witnesses saw your daughter leaving school, um, quite dishevelled, but more importantly she was quite close to the victim.
"Who?" Andrew asked curiously."
"Thomas Boone, 15, sophomore. He was found in a utility closet with third degree burns over much of his body. That shouldn't have killed him outright, the ER docs had to label the cause of death as heart failure."
"What do you want with Christina?," Sara Bishop asked harshly, "We're both lawyers with Williams, Horner, Goldsmith and Elfman. So don't bullshit us, were not your typical parental pushovers."
"Ma'am, sir, I just want to question her, I'm not here to arrest anyone, your daughter doesn't have any sort of record, and no motive that I can ascertain. But it's fairly obvious, to you to ma'am, that she saw something. And, well there is this matter of Ian Sikes, he was found dead of remarkably similar wounds. A common connection between the two boys is your daughter."
"You think she killed them?" Sara asked angrily.
"Ma'am, I don't know what to think, I keep expecting to see Rod Sterling pop up any minute now, with cheesy music. This isn't the sort of thing we deal with on a regular basis. It almost makes me wish for something simple, like a gang war. If you say she isn't fit to be questioned right now, I will have to accept that. But please take my card," said the police officer, handing it over to Mr. Bishop.
"Lt. Dan Stewart," he continued. "If I haven't received a call by tomorrow night, I'm afraid I will have to come back, And with all the proper paperwork. I'm sure you don't want that on your daughters record."
"Get out," Sara glared at him.
"I'm sorry but..."
"She told you to get out Lt." Andrew announced. "I suggest you go now."
"Very well, but I will be back, and believe it or not, I am very sorry."
"Timmy! This is a place of god, I would have thought the sisters would have spanked that into you by now," said Jake shaking his head.
"Yes father, but there is a big king outside," the excited boy continued.
"A king huh?"
"Yea he's fat and dressed in black and red and he has a sceptre."
"Oh, one of those, well you go up to his majesty and tell him I'll be in my office."
"You want me..."
"There's a nickel in it for ya."
"Yes FATHER!" the boy shouted as he ran downstairs.
"You're really letting the new job go to your head Max, this is 1949 your supposed to be dressed a little more mundane," said Jake as the Cardinal entered his church office.
"I just came from a rather interesting meeting with some of our church members on the Morgan and first Boston boards. I put on the monkey suit to impress them."
"How much did we get out of them this time?"
"Not enough, which is why I'm here"
"I'm tapped out old friend. I gave at the office."
"Funny,"
"Well I always did like a good pun, what can I do for you?"
"Have you been following the Jewish problem," the Cardinal asked as he sat down.
"Religiously."
"That's quite enough! A little bit more respect here."
"All right your eminence, yes I have. Israel looks like it's going to make it, . I wouldn't of put money on it last year though."
"Nor would I, which brings us to our main point. Before and during the war, great sums of money were hidden away. Many of those accounts, a great many in fact, both here, and in places like Switzerland haven't been touched. We are left with the supposition that the depositors are now dead."
"An occupational hazard for a Jew."
"Indeed, the subject came up that we could requisition the funds, that it would be better that they be used for good works, than they languish and collect interest for the gnomes of Switzerland."
"Leaving aside that it's not our money to requisition, how do you intend doing that? The Swiss are rather tight about giving away other people's money."
"Documents could be provided, many documents in fact, perfectly valid even. Many refugees have come to the United States. And of course, the Swiss would be less reluctant to release the funds to a high church official than any beggar off the street. Or at least, that's what our friends in the city tell us."
"And these friends in the city would be willing to provide those abundantly "valid" documents, wills and such, that stipulate we are the beneficiaries of these accounts, out of the goodness of their hearts?"
"Well of course not, while the money is under our control, it must be held in their institutions."
"Gaining less than optimum interest, and a few dollars might slip through the cracks."
"Of course, such things are normal in these turbulent times."
"A nice plan, except it disregards the root of the problem, it's not our money. Back in Iowa we called that stealing."
"In Boston we don't use such words. Come off it, Jake. You and I both know, the Swiss will never let a tenth of the Jews have their money back . It's just going to sit there for years, and make them rich. Look at this place." The cardinal gestured with a wave. "This church and school are falling apart; and it's one of the best we have. We're talking about hundreds of millions of dollars."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Rome would never agree before the fact. It is much easier to ask forgiveness than permission, not so? I need someone local, but most of my people are not up for this. You have a certain moral flexibility, when it comes to God's work. I remember a rather large account appearing on your ledger, the month "Fats Romero" died.
"He wanted a good catholic funeral, in a consecrated cemetery."
"And he paid so very well for it."
"Just because you ask me to do it, and not steal the money yourself doesn't make you any less responsible," said Jake harshly.
"I know, but I have orphans to feed, churches to build and a flock to administer, and it's much easier to ask for that forgiveness…"
"Funny, I never felt I got any,"
"I will be able to make you a bishop in a few years, not for Boston of course but I can slip you on the list somewhere. Will you do it?…
"Hello Mr Bishop," said Sam as the door was opened. "I need to speak to Chris."
"I'm afraid, she's not feeling well right now Sam," Andrew tried explaining.
"It's important, I know what happened and I think I can help her."
Mr Bishop didn't hesitate long where the well being his daughter was concerned, and he quickly opened the door to admit her. Sam walked up the stairs to Chris' room and halted at the door.
"She's just been huddled up in her blankets all day. We couldn't get her to talk; couldn't get her to eat, or even drink. If she doesn't come out of it by 8:00 Sara wants to take her to a hospital," said Andrew with a concerned voice.
"Mr. Bishop I need to speak to her alone, she might open up if her parents aren't in the room."
"What ever might work Samantha, I'll be waiting outside."
"Probably best if you wait downstairs," the girl added. "She might hear you."
"Right."
"Chris," Sam shook the girl. "Chris you have to get up."
"No…"
"Chris people are in danger."
"Then they should probably stay away from me."
"Its that bitch Alyson, she went back to school after classes got out. The whole football team and cheerleader squads. They are under some sort of spell. She's doing something, I don't know what; but there's a purple cloud surrounding the field. "What do you expect me to do about it," Chris pleaded as she hugged her covers tighter to her folded legs.
"She has to be stopped, you were the only one who was doing anything, the only one who notices anything. I went to Dean Pritchart's office and she said I was imagining things."
"I can't do anything, I'm no hero."
"There must be something? I brought my mommy's gun; but I can't even tell if it's loaded. Do you know anything about guns?"
Of course you do old man, you could field strip your 45 in your sleep. Only chaplain in the whole division who could.
"She'll see me coming." Chris countered.
"No she won't, all her concentration is on the souls she is trying to steal. I don't know anything about witches, but I remember she has a period just like any other girl. If it bleeds we can kill it.
What's one more dead, between friends?
"Boss, we got a situation developing," said Gabriel as he handed a report to his superior.
"Damn," uttered Michael as he read the message. "What do they think, we're sleeping up here?"
"I don't know what to think sir, that's why you're paid the big…thanks."
"Scramble the first and second Choir of angels for express mobilization. Then tell General Uriel that I will take out the rapid response force immediately."
"Your going personally sir," Gabriel asked concernedly.
"We got anyone better at the moment? Carry out my orders, I'll go tell The Boss."
"Yes sir," said the other Archangel as he saluted and then vanished.
Andrew Bishop was so busy watching his daughter's door that he never noticed her crawl out the window into the oak tree outside her backyard window.
The October sun had just set, so it was getting quite dark as Chris stumbled down the road to school. Normally, a small teenage girl walking the mile to school in the dark would have seemed odd. But, it was far from the only thing that drew people's attention. That teenage girl was walking down the street clothed only in her pink pyjamas. That would give people pause at any time of the day. But what caused people to stare, was the nickel-plated pistol she held in her hands. In comparison to Chris's new form, the 44 magnum looked bigger than she did.
Soon enough, Chris reached the high school parking lot, the first time she had been on school property without her uniform. If Chris had been capable of such thoughts she would have thought it ironic. The purple haze was covering much of the school now, but it seemed the people of Boston were incapable of seeing anything, armed little girls or otherwise. The cars passing by, didn't seem to notice a thing. The fence that led to the football field was unlocked; and Chris walked down the bleachers until stepping on the grass. Before her, was a scene reminiscent of Hades. A heavy and constant rain had caused much of the field to flood; and what left, was a muddy gooey mess. The two groups, football players and cheerleaders, were each in circles. Girls on the inside; boys on the outside. And at the centre of the field, sitting in a pentagram, was Alyson Reeves. Thin bands of fluorescent light were connecting Alyson to each of her victims, and it looked for al the world like she was stealing their souls.
Well are you going to let that happen old man?
"No," Chris said aloud.
Then get to it.
Chris walked slowly toward Alyson. The Girl had her eyes completely shut, and did not seem to be aware of and part of world around her.
You can hit her from here old man, but best get closer, you don't want to miss, come on right next to her head.
Chris continued until she stood right next to the other girl and lifted her heavy weapon until it was in position. Cocking the magnum was difficult; Chris had to use both her hands. The mechanism was designed for a powerful mans hands not that of a still developing young girl. The recoil would probably knock Chris off her feet, and the gun out of her hands, so she must be sure to hit her target on the first try. Resting the weapon against Alyson's left temple Chris prepare to fire.
Come on one more bullet for god and country.
"To hell with me." Chris whispered.
Christina Bishop! Stop! A voice sounded in her head.
"What," said Chris confused.
Don't listen to her.
Don't listen to it, that voice in your head isn't you.
Of course it is, I've been here all along old man. She's a witch kill her.
I am a witch, but I am not evil.
"Yes you are. You burned me. You said you worked for Satan" Chris argued.
Yes, that's right she did,
I thought you worked for them, The old Cristina was taken over by one of their agents; its an old trick, to try a re infiltration. The only way Christina could be back after a year was if one of the powers sent her and you didn't have any identification or give off the proper signal what was I supposed to think!
She's lying, Michael said she wasn't on any of his lists.
I work for a different department.
A likely story.
Its true. I'm supposed to be on the register, like any other agent, but the company is like any other bureaucracy, I'm on your side!
If she's on your side, why is she stealing their souls? Isn't it odd that she tries to convince you she's good, just when you're about to foil her plot? Kill her!
"Yea," Chris agree, "I'm right, you're just trying to confuse me," she said hesitantly as she looked at the immobile form of Alyson.
I am not, I always thought you were the enemy, you were always around a known daemon, but this is the first time I have tried to really get close to you and sense your soul and medal, your one of Michaels right?"
An agent of Satan would know that medal, the same as someone on our side.
"You're stealing their souls," said Chris slowly glancing at the assembled teenagers.
It only looks that way you papist dolt! I'm the only thing keeping them from being captured. When I saw what was happening , I rushed to keep them on earth, but I am only breaking even. I have to use all my concentration, which means I can't waste energy talking to you! Put the gun down or they all will experience fates worse than death.
"If not you. who is trying to steal their souls."
The Daemons! Including the one you have been around all week. Think, damn you! Isn't it surprising how close you two have become, how she's always there with you. Every time something happens, she's around. It was while she was in class that Mr Smith died, she that pushed Ian toward you, and she that caused Tom to go mad. The person behind all this is Samantha!
"No, she's my friend. It was your magic that caused Tom to rape me your eyes that flashed like his.
That's right!
No, it was only an instinctual reaction to the powerful magic being used. You would have seen the same thing in your eyes. Samantha is a FURY! She's gotten in your head, and she is trying to get you to do her dirty work for her, to kill another Agent of good, and damn your soul. Don't do this Christina. Help me fight her! All you have to do, is put the gun down and let me concentrate.
No old man, she's trying to trick you shoot her.
Christina Listen…
Our name is Jake, Bishop Jacob Balus
Her name is Christina now, she has a second chance, and I can see the pain and torment in your soul, Chris, the same as the daemon can. I know you have struggled with your soul for what you had done. But that's over now! You have a second chance, to live again, and all those imagined infractions against your creator can be forgiven.
She lies, you're evil, you have no faith, you were a failure as a priest, everything you did was a lie. But with this act, you can have your redemption. You can be righteous again.
"That's right, I wanna be righteous again. Jake replied.
Then listen to me . Use the gun I gave you, and shoot her!
How could you use the gun she gave you, if you're listening to yourself and not the daemon?
"What," Chris asked, suddenly confused.
Is she right Christina? Are you a faithless preacher, or a mean motherfucking servant of God!
No! What I meant was, use the gun Samantha gave you and shoot her.
"But," and then the universe was started to clear for Chris. She glanced around; and she was barely able to distinguish Samantha at her side. Chris had not noticed Sam while she was walking to school. In hindsight, that seemed odd.
"Shoot her Jake," Sam cried out. "She killed Ian, killed Tom, and she's trying to steal all their souls."
That was all the reason Chris needed to fire. She had been right, she only got one shot. The recoil from the world's most powerful handgun knocked the gun clear out of her hands, and shoved her to the wet and muddy ground. Chris suddenly felt the cold night air, when she hadn't before. It was like a veil had been removed from her mind; and Chris was able to think clearly once again. Crawling on her hands and knees, Chris made her way over to the fallen body of the teenage girl.
Samantha was coughing up blood, but it was clearly not human, darker than crude oil, it began to burn the grass when it hit the ground. The wound was directly in her chest; and it should have completely removed her heart, and any chance of life. Yet, somehow, what appeared to be a girl was still breathing.
"How did you know?" the daemon whispered in a deep bass voice while in shock.
"How did you know my name used to be Jake?" Chris replied coldly.
"Huh…" the daemon grunted.
"Well it's about time!" Shouted Alyson as she struggled to stand up.
Apparently, with the mortal wounding of the instigating daemon, the grand theft of souls had been halted. All around the football field, boys and girls were shaking their heads, and wondering what had happened to them. And how they could go from vigorous athletic events, in mid afternoon, to a late night gathering, in the blink of an eye.
"Bishops!" Alyson seethed out with venom. "We ask for a few good men; and Michael sends us….Bishops!"
"My superiors aren't going to like this," moaned the Daemon quietly, as she began to die.
"NO, THEY MOST CERTAINLY WILL NOT!" Shouted a powerful voice as a new player came upon the field.
"Well, that explains a lot," said Chris and Sam at the same time.
The two new allies looked up to see a 50ish red-haired woman stride purposely onto the field, her eyes gleaming red, with two large protrusions on her forehead instead of elsewhere. It appeared that for this particular high school, the dean of students was a minion of Satan.
"Well dean Pritchart," said Alyson condescendingly. "I wish I could say it's a surprise; but we have suspected it for some time. Your cover is one of the best I've seen, my compliments to you sir."
"So you know I used to be a man." The dean replied.
"It was an educated guess, one of your masters personal eccentricities. Now run along little lady. This area is about to be swamped with pissed off higher beings." casually dismissed Alyson with a wave of her wrist.
"I don't think so little girls, there's is something of a diversion going on at the moment, all of your reinforcements will be postponed. Our little operation here might have been delayed a bit; but we will just have to make up for lost time. Serves me right for trying the elegant approach. Samantha! Stop playing around in the mud!"
"Yes mistress," Sam replied sheepishly. "But that bitch, she shot me!"
"Oh, so she did! Well then, I suppose we'll have to fix your body, and why not add a few extras while were at it.
Pritchart raised her hands at daemon Samantha, and an amber light flared from her finger types. Apparently to Pritchart, a few "extras", meant transforming Samantha into a more substantial magical creature. Specifically one that was red scaled and breathed fire. Oh, and was the size of a house. The new Sam gave off a powerful roar, accompanied by several bursts of flames.
"RROOOOOOOOOAAAAAARRR!!!!!!
"A fire breathing dragon huh?," said Chris in a mocking voice. "What is this a really bad fantasy book? Couldn't you have come up with something a bit less clichéd?"
"Yea," said Alyson joining in. "what are you trying be, David E. Kelly, a no talent hack, who cant set a TV series anywhere outside of Boston, because he hasn't had an original idea this century?*
(*The producers of this book would like to state, that the opinions of Alyson Reeves: Witch: Third Class, are not those expressed by the said producers. We here at Heavenly publishingÔ have great respect for the creator of Ally Mcbeal, The Practice and Boston Public. Though at times, even we have our patience tried by said asshole who thinks he can write. But don't worry, he'll get his. Thank you and back to the show.)
Storming onto the field, from the direction of the school, were about ten lesser daemons; who quickly shed off the teacher skin disguises they had been wearing before. Chris was surprised by some of them, though, looking at her history teacher, not that surprised. They began to form a circle around the two girls, surrounding them, and preventing escape. In the far corner of the field, a huge hole erupted; and things that could only be described as Things, began to exit the hole and approach the crowd of athletes, cheerleaders, other daemons, and our two agents for the good guys.
Sam the dragon took to flight with a suitably majestic lunge into the air. She circled the field several times while the two heroines tried to think up their next course of action.
"Well she's right! Elegant this aint. Got a plan?," inquired Chris, nervously glancing at Alyson.
"Ah…no, do you?" the girl responded timidly.
"Nope.. Wait a minute, I think maybe I came up with something."
"What?" Alyson begged hopefully.
"Ah...run"
"Run?"
"Run now…" Chris clarified.
"Thanks a good plan."
The two girls ran as quickly as they could manage, away from the daemons, all the while screaming for their respective employers.
"Michael get your angelic ass down here!!
"Bellanamy, I don't want to die in Boston; it would be too embarrassing!"
Most of the students had scattered in the confusion. There are certain things that can be accepted and believed in the normal course of a high school student's life. Fire breathing dragons was not one of them. In the resulting confusion started by the dragons flight, and set into motion by Chris and Alyson's, attempt to flee, the students also had tried to run away. Some of them made the relative safety of the street or the school; but Dean Pritchart and her minions had recaptured most of them.
"The hangman's noose concentrates a mans mind nicely." While the old aphorism by Samuel Johnson wasn't quite 100% fitting, it was definitely relative. Chris, in her life and death struggle, suddenly began connecting some of the lessons she had read from her books, with situations in the actual physical world. She was nowhere near Alyson's league; but she was able to support her companion in small ways. Every once in a while, Sam the Dragon would launch a magnificent fireball at the two girls, and Alyson would construct a defensive screen. Chris, fully aware that fireballs were not entirely decorative, stayed as close to her former enemy as possible. All the while, the two girls were attempting to return fire. Chris carefully used the other five shots in the Magnum she had recovered, each time falling flat on her butt, but each time hitting her target. Daemons though, were remarkable resistant to gunfire, and only one of them was out of the fight. Ammunition exhausted, she threw the gun at one of the approaching daemons and the two girls were left dependent upon their own meagre mystical powers. Chris with a bit of white flame, that did little more than distract the creatures, and Alyson with something a bit more substantial.
While the two girls were holding their own, barely; they were not doing any serious damage to the enemy. And, they were depleting their energy quite quickly. Meanwhile, the Daemons seemed to be accessing a limitless supply.
"You know, this whole thing would have gone a hell of a lot better if you didn't jump to conclusions and slap me. We could have been teamed up from the …watch your head" said Chris calmly as a fireball passed by "…From the beginning. But nooooo, the witch bitch had to go off and slap me."
"I'm gonna complain to the Union. I have been working this job for damn near forty years, their are RULES for this sort of thing! Damn rookie, baby face, greenhorn, still wet behind theirs F," Alyson enunciated as she threw a flame burst at Pritchart. "N" As she threw another burst at Sam the dragon. "G!" she finished.
"Am not!" screamed Chris, as she ducked an incoming.
"Are too," argued Alyson angered.
"Am n...Ah!" her voice being drowned, literally, as Chris slipped in the mud and fell out of the shield's protection just before Sam the Dragon was coming around for another attack run.
"Fucking new guy," Alyson said under her breath, as she struggled to reform the shield in time, around the other girl. Alyson was successful; but only at great cost in energy, and leaving herself partially open to the fire. Alyson screamed in agony as the flames consumed part of her body, and with her distracted, the shield collapsed and Chris stood up to face the Dragon and the Daemons alone.
Shaking in fear, for the first time in a very long time, Christina Bishop, former Soldier of the 101, former soldier of the American expeditionary force, former Bishop of the church stood straight and still, defiantly awaiting her fate.
"You really think you're something; don't you," said Pritchart as she closed within feet of Chris. "Well, I'm sorry to say it my dear; but your nothing but another notch on my wall. I am going to eat your soul; and then eat other things. It has been so very long since I have had a chance to enjoy myself."
"Kiss my ass"
"SMACK!
"You haven't done anything but delay me a few minutes, I am still going to take their souls, and all the rest at this school." The daemon pronounced as if it were a dirty word. "By the time your side even notices anything, we will already be in total control of this area, maybe even the whole city. And that bunch of pansies won't do a thing about it. They are too afraid of, innocents dying over a forgone conclusion."
"Fuck you, someday Michael, and those like him are going to kill you and your whole fucking race."
SMACK!
"You will learn, whore, that if you want to experience anything but excruciating, agonising, unbearable pain for the rest of eternity, to mind your tongue. I will torture you so slowly, you will think it's my livelihood, which come to think of it, it is.
"Piss off he bitch before I get an axe and…"
"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!" Chris screamed as Pritchart applied more scorching painful energy.
"Defiant to the last are we," smiled Pritchart. "You still think you are going to win, don't you?. That the choirs of heaven will come riding to the rescue. God isn't going to save you. He probably doesn't even remember your name."
"HER NAME IS CHRISTINA BISHOP," shouted a powerful BBC accented voice. AND WE ALWAYS REMEMBER OUR OWN.
Chris looked up to see a glorious white light descend from above, at the same time both familiar and incomprehensible. In a flash the spirit was upon Sam the Dragon, and a fiery sword impacted straight into the serpents heart. Chris was briefly worried that a several ton magical creature would impact hard on the city of Boston, but in its death throes, it was consumed by flames; and it vanished before hitting the ground, leaving behind the glorious spirit.
In the sky, following after the spirit, were wave, after wave, after wave, of what Chris could only assume to be angels. Hundreds, at the very least, perhaps thousands, they descended upon the earth in a majestic tapestry and began dealing with the Daemon incursion. Chris in her weakened body, and shocked mind could almost swear she heard music, Wagner's "Ride of the Valkiries". But that was quite impossible. Wasn't it?
Pritchart, or the daemon that had assumed her form, gave off a terrifying scream at seeing her minions killed; but the scream was cut short when she turned around to see Michael the Archangel present beside her. Before, when Chris had seen him, Michael was dressed like any other successful businessman. Now, the only word that could be used to describe him was impressive. He was dressed in heavy glittering golden amour that would have been an unbearable burden to any mortal man. He also was sporting a flaming sword of his own which, when he unsheathed it, sounded a clarion call to all those near. Michael, without ceremony or hesitation, plunged his sword into the body of the daemon Pritchart, which subsequently faded away. She did not die with an epic explosion, not with a shout, or a bang, but a whimper.
After glancing around the field to make sure there were no further agents of evil left alive. Michael looked back at the pile of ashes that used to be a high school educator and said simply.
"Sorry about the rust."
"Michael, Alyson is…"
"Yes I caught the play by play just around the time we realised the whole scale attack was a fake, I know she's on our side, I'm going to have a stern talking to..."
"Not that, you idiot! I meant she's hurt, you have to help her!"
"Oh…right. Only be a minute."
Michael kneeled beside Alyson's quivering form. But for the first time, he appeared hesitant to Chris.
"What are you waiting for, help her!" Chris berated the Archangel
"Um…yea…not my department." The Archangel added embarrassed.
"Not your departm…" Chris stood flabbergasted.
"Sorry I'm not a miracle worker here, Gabe" called Michael to his associate nearby. "You've had more recent experience at this."
"Nope, call in the kid. He likes to get out," said the other archangel.
"Can't he's doing this thing in Mexico."
"What again," Gabriel shook his head.
"Somebody do something," Chris shouted, now panicking over the fate of her co-defender.
"Uh! came a disgusted female voice. "Men! Even anatomically incorrect facsimiles of men are completely useless!"
"Bellanamy," said Michael pleased. "What took you so long?"
"Sullust," The robed woman replied, as she appeared kneeling next to her student. "And I see you got hoodwinked by the same thing."
"Ayup, We must really be two naïve fools huh."
"I was following your lead Michael, you're supposed to be the great General. Remember," said the Witch, as she applied her hands to Alyson; and began to heal her. The girls burned skin began to heal almost immediately, going from a sooty black to a deep red and finally to a more fleshy tone. Even the small fine hairs on her arms began to grow back, though Alyson would probably have preferred they stay off. Electrolysis was always preferable to a fire breathing dragon, but there should be some upside to this deal.
Chris kneeled by Alyson's side; and took her hand into her own, trying to give the other girl comfort. Soon enough, the senior witch's ministrations were effective enough to heal Alyson completely; and she began to wake. Since her mind was still in a combat mode, and the first thing she saw was the FNG that had almost gotten her killed holding her hand, the young witch could be excused for her reaction.
"Get your filthy hands off me you bitch. This is all your fault," Alyson screamed.
"Why you stuck up little witch, we should have let the dragon get you so you could be burned like all the rest of your kind" retorted Chris, before she knew what she was saying.
Gasp!
Sigh--
Grunt.
"Woah there, Chris, That was uncalled for. Bit of a sensitive subject with our present company," said Michael wincing.
"I meant it, If we had a stake handy I would use it, either to tie her to, or to drive through her black heart."
Gasp!
Sigh----
Grunt.
"You want, I can, I can have both her legs broken," said Bellanamy trying to be helpful.
"Nah! It's all right. I got it," said Michael with a dismissive wave.
"Its easy, it would be snap," added Bellanamy holding up her ready fingers.
"Nah I can handle it, just see about your girl."
"What are you doing?" screamed Chris, as Michael grabbed her. "Put me down!"
"Naughty girl" said the Archspanker as he bent Chris over his knee.
"Naughty, Naughty girl," Spank.
"Naughty girl, we don't use such language in civilized company," Spank.
"Naughty girl, we don't reinforce negative stereotypes," spank.
"Bishop Bigotry is bad Ms. Bishop, Naughty girl" spank.
"Its not all my fault," bawled Chris, trying to end the humiliation. "You said she was evil. You let me think she was a bad witch."
"That!…is a very good point," admitted Michael, as he stopped his next spank in mid swing. Suddenly curious, Michael set Chris down gently; and went over to speak to Bellanamy.
"How come we didn't know she was one of yours. It would have save a lot of aggravation on everyone's part." Interrogated Michael. "Didn't you file form 772341589-B11B-7532082-C-86417492176-AB-097613. New recruit identification?
Well of course I filled 772341589-B11B-7532082-C-86417492176-AB-097613. I also filed 772341589-B11B-7532082-C-86417492176-AB-097613-A, and 772341589-B11B-7532082-C-86417492176-AB-097613-B. I handed all the paperwork in at the annual meeting, almost forty years ago. I also sent in several files relating to her posting, and to my department's operation in this area. We had been getting negative reports for years," finished Bellanamy. Now she was highly agitated.
"Who did you give it too?" questioned Michael disbelieving.
The Archangel Gabriel suddenly looked incredibly uncomfortable.
"Gaaaaaaaabe!" Sneered Michael looking at his friend.
"Well, when I saw Bellanamy, it kind of all clicked. I'm sorry Mickey but that annual meeting, well, it was the summer of 62, and we had that party at the Sands. I was running late. And um...well…since I…um…well…was so far behind the rest of you when I did get there,…I…um…well…. played catch up…John Daniels, James Bean, Highland Park, Glen fidich, well you get the picture. Sinatra and Sammy could really knock em back, though Dean was a lightweight. I had the file with me; but, with everything going on, I guess I kind of got drunk and forgot it."
"Forgot it!" Bellanamy screamed outrage. "Why of all the pointless, stupid…"
"And since the original agent file never got filed all the subsequent files on her assignments, past and present, never got filed by the automatic filing system. So we had no file to check on," Gabe reluctantly explained, bringing the whole situation to light."
"You put my girl in jeopardy, and you never knew she was my girl!"
"I ought to Yank! Your! Wings!…Again!" Michael said harshly.
"Again, what do you mean again?" Chris rubbing her bruised rump.
"Why do you think there are so many references in the bible to "the man Gabriel," explained Bellanamy with a grin.
"It wasn't all that bad, there were compensations" Gabriel commented with a wry grin.
"Not this time," clarified Michael with a scissoring motion of his fingers.
"Oh,"
"I'm surprised a former Bishop like you hadn't surmised. it," mentioned Bellanamy to a suddenly involved Chris.
"I'm not," added Alyson sarcastically. "Damned papist scum, ignorant, worthless. The Orangemen in Ulster have the right idea, kill 'em all, and let the boss sort 'em out."
Gasp!!
Sigh-------
Grunt, snort.
"You want, I can, I can have all that nice new skin ripped off," asked Michael helpfully.
"Nah its all right. I can handle it" said Bellanamy with dismissive wave.
"Hey! Alyson screamed. "Put me down!"
"Oh good. Thank you gentlemen," said Michael, as a host of Angels assembled on the ground in various martial costumes. "I want a full-scale reality reversion for all the principle players. The same for five-mile perimeter around this point, nothing inside that circle remembers a thing for that past 24 hours. Just fill in the time with random episodes of LA Law, they won't notice a thing. Now we don't want a repeat of last time do we?"
"SIR NO SIR!"
"You can tone it down fellas," winced Michael shaking his head. "I've got pretty good hearing. Get to work."
"SIR YES SIR!"
Sigh
"MICHAEL MY GOOD MAN, I HAVE DECIDED THIS SITUATION NO LONGER CALLS FOR MY ATTENTION; AND I WILL RETURN TO MY PLACE IN HEAVEN." Came that same high-class British voice as before, emitted from the glorious looking spirit that had slayed Sam the dragon. The Spirit was only visible long enough to give Michael its report, and then it vanished.
"Were the Limeys right? Is God and Englishman?" as Christina, awed at the sight, hesitantly asked her Archangel.
"That," said Michael with a dismissive strut of his chin. "No, that was just George. My, but he's does love to make an entrance, doesn't he. He's got a bit of an ego problem."
"George?"
"St. George, who else would I get to slay a dragon, he has his uses every once and a while. But really, he's let his getting named, as the patron saint of England, go to his head. The way he over acts, and struts about with that accent of his, you wouldn't think he was just a poor farm boy from Palestine."
"Michael," Chris asked hesitantly still remembering her spanking.
"Yes?"
"If I ask you a question, will you give me a straight answer?"
"A former bishop like you should know better, than to expect a straight answer from the company; but go ahead. I will do the best I can."
"I was just a pawn, wasn't I?"
"Well let's not mince words here Christina, you were worse than a pawn. You were bait."
"Why?"
"Many reasons," said Michael noncommittally.
"Elaborate."
FLASH!
A middle aged, short, balding, Semitic looking man popped into the field next to Michael and Chris.
"Sorry old chap forgot my swagger stick," said the unassuming man as he nodded at the duo. "Ahh, here it is." muttered the newcomer, almost inaudibly.
"Ah George," said Michael glancing at the saint. "You forgot your light bulb too."
"Oh, right," and he suddenly became more substantial in a blinding and glorious light. "CHERIO OLD MAN, MUST BE OFF."
"Why do you keep that guy around," Chris asked confused as the saint disappeared in another magnificent flash of light.
"Oh, he's fun enough to have around at parties. The English know all the best bar songs."
"Really?"
"Yea, the Irish come a close second but you'll never catch Paddy boy singing. We can't even get him in a chorus of Danny boy. Snob."
"Back to the issue at hand," said Chris abruptly.
"Right, hum…well…like this really. Bellanamy and her sisters run a relatively independent department in the company. A sort of wild card to keep everything on there toes, and normally, there is good communication between the divisions; but this time, we didn't. So we had no idea an agent was already posted to this area, else we probably would just have left it up too her. We thought you would be going off alone into the lions den. Like pushing baby chicks into a pond of sharks. Sure the chicks get it; but you find the sharks. A trainee agent like yourself, out in the open, offered just enough of a juicy target that the players down here would reveal themselves. And when they did, we nab them. We didn't quite suspect so much Daemon attention however. We ah, sort of underestimated them. But, we still had you in our sights if anything happened."
"Except you were busy at the time it did. If Alyson hadn't been here I would never have survived."
"Possible, even likely, but it was a risk we had to take; and in addition to drawing them out, and giving you some real combat training, there was the secondary reason."
"Which was?"
"Penance,"
"I would much rather have chosen a rosary."
"No you wouldn't, not you. Have you ever taken a real good look at yourself Christina? When you were Jake, you were carrying around so much emotional baggage and guilt, it was killing you faster than the cancer. You would never be able to continue in your next life until you were "forgiven" your sins in the last. So we arranged this little thing for you, to sooth your conscience. We put you through some pretty nasty stuff my dear. So you don't owe us anything. We're even, you're forgiven, and you always have been."
"Your wrong,"
"Don't go telling me I'm wrong about this, I have it on pretty damn high authority."
"I've killed hundreds, probably thousands."
"And I have committed Genocide on behalf of my creator. I didn't like doing it; and neither did he; but I don't have any problem sleeping."
"Do you actually sleep?"
"Well, no, but that's not the point, tell me Christina after all this is done, how do you feel?"
"How do I feel, betrayed! while you were playing your games people down here died. Ian and Tom."
"Tom was the familiar for the Fury Samantha . We now know that now. He had been lost, long before you got there. And as for Ian. Well, we can't save everyone, Christina.
"Well you damn well should!!!" she shouted, with a power she had never known before.
"You think I don't know that? You think I don't know that Major Balus! You talk about thousands dead under your responsibility, well baby, Trillions have died under mine! And I'm an Archangel, we don't forget that shit! No mater how much we try to drown it. Every last victim, of every last, piss ant, Podunk, border war, from now until the beginning of time, I REMEMBER! I'm supposed to be out protecting the universe, but sometimes I can barely protect my own family. But I can't stop! None of us can. I can't lie in my bed wrapped in my blanket crying when the demons come. Cause if I let up, even just a little, the bad guys win. The men in the black hats come in, and darkness rules the universe. The only way were going to win this thing, is if people like you are out here fighting. Even I can't be everywhere. And yes, sometimes agents die, sometimes…sometimes even worse. But, if I have to send a million like you to torment and death, then I will do it gladly, because by your sacrifice, the worlds may live," finished Michael, with rage showing clearly in his eyes.
"Deep down," The Archangel continued starting to calm. "Deep down, you know that's true, right, and necessary."
"Yes," Chris admitted. "I suppose I do."
"If you want, I can take you off the lists, make you fully human again. You can even keep your current body, until it dies; and then you can keep that reservation. This isn't the sort of thing I can order. And I led you into service originally, under false pretences."
"Answer me this, Archangel, and no more semantics or rhetoric. Are we winning right now?"
"No," Michael admitted sadly.
"Are we going to win?"
"We're going to damn well try," stated Michael uncompromisingly.
"Good enough for me, I'm not sure I could stand the eternity of boredom while others fight my battles. Just so long as I don't have to stick around Alyson."
"Yes, well about that, Bellanamy and me, we kind of talked about that a few minutes ago. We feel there needs to be closer connections to the Witch and wizarding community; so we're organizing several joint teams. They have been apart too long; the combination can be quite effective. You and Alyson worked so well together…."
"You wouldn't" Chris asked aghast.
"Not right away, you still have your acclimation to live, and she's on assignment. Oh! Don't give me that look, they're not that bad, damn good even. Not everything you read about witches is true, as long as you don't piss them off. I might even ask Bellanamy to take over command of the new joint unit. She and I go way back, why…"
"I'll get you my pretty, and your little dog too!" came a high-pitched voice suddenly. Chris turned around, shocked ; and she saw a green skinned woman, dressed in black, riding a broomstick, and wearing an unusually large pointed hat.
"Ah he heh he he he heee!" the green witch cackled.
"Oh for crying out loud Bellanamy!" shouted a highly annoyed Michael. "That's the most awful, stupid, stinking joke! And you're always pulling that awful, stupid joke! You don't want in this thing; you don't get in this thing. I don't need you! I cut you in on everything. Level six witches I can pick up almost anywhere! Shmuck! Talk about reinforcing negative stereotypes."
"Ah he he he hehhhheeeee!!" the witch cackled as she rode her broom streaming off into the night.
"Cool," said Chris approvingly. "Can I get a broom?"
The End.
Well this is my second major attempt at being a writer. I hope everyone enjoyed it and if you didn't the fault is entirely mine and expect you all to tell me so in as blistering a manner as possible. It's your duty as readers to correct me else I wont get any better. My email address is TLBScout@Hotmail.com. And if you have something positive to say about my stories, well…I suppose I would like that too.
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