Archangel Protocol

Piercing me with a fierce gaze, he said, "It is, if I never go back."

"You would do that? Michael, what's happened to you?"

"I ..." The hard cast of Michael's face melted a little. Then, pushing his elbows onto the edge of the table, he frowned into his clasped hands. "You wouldn't understand."

"You're right." I settled back to my food. Picking up a hard roll, I bit into it. "I don't get what's so great about being human. What do we do, but mark time until we die? Doesn't seem worth coming to blows with God over, you know?"

"It is," Michael said grimly. "It wouldn't be the first time heaven was rent in two over humanity."

"Hmm, I suppose not." I chewed thoughtfully, and washed the bread down with a sip of Raphael's abandoned milk. "But, while you've been plotting the second war in heaven, I may have figured out who the LINK-Michael is."

"What?" The fork that almost reached his lips came down with a slam. "When? How long have you known?"

"Mouse has a copy of Phanuel in his hub."

Michael's eyebrows raised expectantly.

I shook my head. "I suspect that Mouse boosted tech from an outfit known as the Jordan Institute to create the LINK-angels." I thought of the phone call. Mouse had seemed so pleasant, so non-threatening. I could still be wrong about him. "But we shouldn't jump the gun."

Michael snorted. "But why else would he have a copy of an angel in his hub?"

"To scare off other hackers?" I suggested.

"Doesn't that seem a bit excessive?" Michael asked.

"It does. And, as far as I know Kantowicz and I were the first-ever uninvited guests."

"But you suspect Mouse is the originator of the LINK-angels?"

I nodded.

"This is great." Michael smiled, relaxing. Finally, a forkful of peas made it into his mouth. "You're really on to something."

I shook my head. "I'm not so sure. Some things don't quite sit right for me. What bugs me about my theory is that the page said he tried to boomerang the LINK-angels. Why would he do that if Mouse is the originator?"

"Maybe Mouse doesn't know what the page has been doing – or vice versa."

"The page is Mouse's construct. How could he not know?"

Michael snorted a sad laugh. "A parallel situation jumps quickly to mind."

"Michael, you're completely different from an AI."

"Am I?" His face pinched up, and he looked away. Picking up his fork, he poked at the potatoes on his plate. "No, I'm exactly like the page. A program with sentience. A construct of a higher being. A messenger; an 'errand boy,' just as Morningstar said."

His shoulders scrunched, and his face tightened even further. I put my hand on his shoulder. "Isn't being an angel much more ..." I searched for the appropriate word, "I don't know ... glorious ... than that?"

Michael's voice was soft, but I could hear a distant thunder in his words. "When I threw Sammael out of heaven I was filled with a holy passion. I shouted: 'I am Michael, who is like God!' " His eyes sparkled with the memory. Then, he laughed and dropped his head slightly. "Sure, there were moments of glory – if war and carnage can, in fact, be glorious. I've tasted the other side now and find I'm tired of carrying the heavy sword of vengeance."

The word "vengeance" reminded me of earlier conversations with Michael. "But you came here on your own this time, you said, to stop Letourneau from using your name."

"That's not entirely true." Michael sighed. "I find the sin of omission easier than lying."

"Don't we all."

He rewarded me with a tired smile. "Yes, I guess we do. Truth is, I came to you on my own, but the Four were deployed to infiltrate the believers – to bring the truth to light."

"The believers? The Four?"

"Archangels." Michael's attention drifted away, then, he laughed. "You know, I might feel badly for straying, but Uriel has really missed the mark. Last I heard from him, he was embracing our dual sexuality and calling himself by a woman's name."

"Ariel."

"That's it exactly. How did you know?"

"Daniel met an Ariel in prison."

"Indeed." He shrugged. "I guess I'm the only one off the mark."

"You found me." I asked, "Wasn't that your assignment?"

"My assignment was to find the perpetrator of the LINK-angels myth. You've done that for me."

I rubbed his shoulder. There were things I wanted to say to comfort him, but instead what came out was: "Does that mean Ariel's assignment was Daniel? But why?"

He shook his head sadly. "The plan is only clear to me above, or as it reveals itself, not before. I have a murky sense of the bigger picture, but the longer I'm away – the more it fades. I would tell you, Dee, if I knew."

"I know."

Michael's eyes searched mine, but I had nothing to say. I couldn't understand what he was going through. It was well out of the realm of my experience.

Over Michael's shoulder, I saw Raphael in the buffet line. He had one hand on the arm of an older man, a rabbi it seemed to me, supporting him. They were engaged in an animated conversation, and Raphael's strongly lined features broke out into a kind grin. The strength Raphael exuded warmed me even from this distance.

"Michael, maybe you just need some time with Raphael to get back on track, you know?" – I hated myself for lying to him – "I need some time to say good-bye to Daniel in my own way. Let's plan to meet up in a couple of hours at my office, okay?"

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere," I said lamely. It was such a bad lie that I couldn't look Michael in the eye.

"I'm coming with you." Michael's voice sharpened with determination.

"You don't even know where I'm going," I protested.

"Last time you said you were just going out for a walk, I had to go looking for you."

Mouse would bolt if I brought Michael along to the meeting, but I didn't really want to be alone right now. The funeral had left me feeling drained and, despite his tendency toward u

"I just got you back," Michael continued. "I'm not willing to let you out of my sight just yet."

"Can you be invisible?" I asked. "I mean, angelically?"

He shook his head. "Only at great cost. Why?"

"You can come as far as my office, then I need to be on my own for a little while..." I sighed. What was the point of keeping the truth from him? "I'm meeting Mouse. I need to do that alone."

He brightened at my words, and nodded. "Okay. Should you need to get ahold of me after we part, though ... take this. ..." From the inside pocket of his jacket, Michael pulled out a scrap of paper. "Earlier, at his apartment, Jibril gave me some numbers. He said you would understand how to use them."

I looked at the crumpled piece of newsprint. A LINK address, phone number, and access pass code were printed in a swirling, flourished hand. "Where did you get all of this?"

Michael shrugged. "Jibril is the patron saint of telecommunications."

I blinked. I looked back at the numbers, then up at Michael. Patiently, I waited for Michael to start laughing and to let me in on the joke. When he started picking at the peas on his plate, I cleared my throat. "No, seriously, where did you get these? Are they safe?"

Michael's eyes roamed my face, measuring me. "There are simply some things that stretch your ability to believe, aren't there, Deidre?"

"Most things about you, big guy, shake what little faith I have," I admitted.

He nodded. "I'm going to borrow some armor. We'll meet out front by the marquee."

"See you there." I smiled.

His lips brushed my cheek, a kiss so soft it was like the tickle of a feather. To my surprised expression, he said, "For luck."

Despite myself, I laughed. "What kind of luck am I going to have with a kiss like that?"

I pulled him close. My fingers prickled against his short, nubby hair at the back of his neck. Though his lips were cool, they didn't lack in passion. I shut my eyes, feeling the fire deep within the shell he wore. There was something there, something I could touch, after all. When we separated, I was smiling. I ran my hand along the sharp line of his jaw. "Much better."