The Watcher

Arielle put a hand on my shoulder. “Fiona is insecure about her attractiveness. Damiel used that vulnerability to get in.”

“She didn’t do anything to deserve that.”

A note of sadness crossed Arielle’s face. “People seldom do.”

I was trying to get my mind around this strange reality she was showing me when Michael appeared in the room. My chest tightened until it ached.

Despite the filth around him, his expression was serene, as though he were untouched by the grime. He was bathed in a golden light that made him awesome to behold, but the guy didn’t even see him. Instead, with clumsy shaking hands, he fumbled to open the folded tinfoil.

Michael crouched behind the young man and whispered in his ear. Though I thought I’d seen Michael work before with Fiona at school, I couldn’t ever hear what he’d said. This time I could. Arielle must have made it possible.

“Dear One, I bring you a message. Will you hear it?” He spoke in tones so beautiful my own heart leapt in response.

Tears filled my eyes as the man emptied the contents of the tinfoil into a spoon, preparing his next fix. The beast on the man’s chest writhed and snarled. Michael spoke to him again, touching his shoulder and addressing him by name.

“Steven. You must stop this. This dose will kill you.”

If he heard him at all, the man named Steven did not acknowledge it. The beast grew larger, its writhing more animated, as it snarled at Michael.

“Why doesn’t he kill that thing?” I asked Arielle.

“He can’t. Not unless the man releases it. We must respect his free will,” she said. “Otherwise, another will just take its place.”

“What about Damiel? Michael fought him.”

“Demonic possession is different. If the host isn’t willing, we can dispel them. This man, Steven, has given his will to the parasite.”

Michael continued, “This is not the only way. You are loved. You are forgiven. Everything you have done is forgiven.”

The man filled and tapped his syringe, ignoring him. The scene shifted and blurred as Arielle pulled me out back through the tu

“That’s what he does?”

“Some of it.”

“He’s amazing!”

“He’d be even more amazing if he realized that the same forgiveness applied to him.” There was sadness in her voice that made me feel foolish for gushing. “How do you feel?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Fine,” I said. Actually, I was bright and awake and, for some reason, my mouth tasted of orange peels.

She did that thing with her halo again to see if I could hear her telepathically. “Well?”

“Just static,” I replied.

This seemed to satisfy her. “I wanted you to see that…I know you look at him and see an angel, and I know that’s astounding to you.” She stood and turned toward the window, as though checking the night, and when she turned back to me, her expression was filled with sadness and a quiet determination. “He has his choices to make, and I will respect them. But I really don’t want to see him go down again. Not when there’s so much at stake.”

She saw me as a threat to Michael’s well-being, even now that he’d chosen to push me away. Surely I wasn’t still a threat?

“He doesn’t want to be with me,” I said, hoping she couldn’t sense my shame. I’d been so caught up in my feelings about him that the fact he was a messenger of God hadn’t really sunk in. I never considered how wrong it might be for him, how wrong it always was.

She placed a hand on my shoulder. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. It’s natural for humans to be in awe of angels. That awe is part of who we are, what we do. For an angel to act on that is wrong in so many ways. It’s strictly forbidden.”

“Why is it forbidden?”

“Because of the impact we can have—that awe—it’s so easy for us to affect you. Being close to one of us can lead to a type of enthrallment, which you experienced earlier today. It becomes intoxicating for you, addictive, for both the human and the angel. We were never designed to be with you physically. That is considered perverse among our kind. It’s an abuse of our power, a line we’re not meant to cross. Those who do suffer immensely for it.” She got up and paced my room again, ruffling her wings, and specks of blue light danced around her.

“What happened to them?” I asked.

“Many became addicted to the enthrallment, as did the people they enthralled. Eventually, the fallen learned how to use it to manipulate and control. The further the angel fell, the more dark and self-serving the enthrallment became, where they drained the life force of their victims until there was nothing left.” Arielle turned to me. “You’ve seen Damiel do it. It’s what makes him so dangerous.”

I recalled the way I’d had a hard time breaking my date with Damiel, how tired he’d made me, and shivered. I was lucky Michael had come along when he did. Damiel had used that same charm on Fiona and look what happened to her.

I wanted to ask Arielle if Michael had done that with me but didn’t know how to ask. I searched my memories from both lives, old and new, but found nothing, nothing that seemed like I was being controlled. Instead, Michael shut himself down, trying to keep us apart, as if he had the right to choose for both of us.

“You said before it was a line you’re not meant to cross. Where—exactly—is it?” I asked. Michael had said he couldn’t be with me that way, but he’d kissed me. Had we already crossed it?

“It’s not easy to define, since it’s a matter of enthrallment and addiction. There are some alcoholics who can have a glass of wine and not go on a binge, while others can’t take even one sip,” she explained. “Our way has been to avoid human contact altogether, and Michael’s track record hasn’t been very good.”

It still didn’t answer my question. Was there something else she wasn’t telling me?

“I don’t know everything that happened between you and Michael,” she said. “But I do know it impacted you. Why else would you have been intrigued by ancient history for so long, and not only in this life?”

I’d been into ancient history before? In other lifetimes?

“Being near Michael brought forward some of your memories, but when Damiel tried to force them all to come in at once, it opened you right up,” she continued, “so even though your mind might not remember all the details—your soul does.”

The whole idea of my soul remembering things made my head hurt. I could sense more memories lurking in the back of my mind, threatening to reveal themselves, and I was suddenly tired. “Why did Michael come back? He said he’d been given another chance.”

Arielle put an arm around my shoulder, her presence as soothing as I imagined a sister’s would be. “I don’t know all of God’s plan. But I know one thing. You and Michael were brought together again for a reason.”

Chapter Seventeen

The next morning, the sound of growling startled me awake. The air in my room felt cool and damp against my skin, and through my open curtains, clouds hung in the sky like huge black sponges, blocking the sun. I sat up, kicking the blankets off, and listened. Over the sound of heavy rain beating on the roof, I heard another snarl. Close. I’d know that sound anywhere.

Hellhounds.

Could they see me inside my house? Tell if I was awake? They were ghostly at times, neither in this world nor out of it. Could walls keep them out, or would they just come rushing in? The more afraid you are, the more they materialize, Michael had said.

Great, I thought, realizing that my skin was already starting to prickle with cold sweat; my mouth tasted of iron. Now what?