The Watcher

Damiel turned to me fiercely. “You tempted him with your body. You made him do it. Don’t think I don’t know your guilt in this.” He moved closer to me, staring me down as though he could see right through my clothes. Even then, his harshness with me was covering something. Was it my fault? I did want Michael. What if he could feel it then, too?

“Enough,” said Raguel.

“What if she tempts another?”

“We will take his wings—as an example—but do not torment the girl. God created women for a reason.” His expression shifted to one of disdain. For an angel he was a pompous ass, but he terrified me nonetheless. “If a woman tempts an angel, it is the angel’s weakness… She has Eve’s curse upon her. That is enough.”

Damiel bowed his head obsequiously. “As you wish, My Lord. Do you want to perform the excision, or shall I?”

I looked at Michael, horrified, unable to move or run away, as shame draped itself around him like a tattered cloak. I was his only witness. The punishment didn’t fit the crime. He’d chosen to fall, but what if I had tempted him? I had loved him, admired him, yearned for his presence.

There was a part of my memory that was blocked, too terrible to witness—too challenging to remember. All I could see was darkness. All I could hear were Michael’s screams and Damiel’s voice, cold and chilling, calling Michael a rapist, telling him over and over again that it was fit punishment for assaulting me.

Rapist? Assaulting me? Is that what Michael believed? It wasn’t like that at all! My chest ached as the light around him went out, fading to a blackened memory.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Not wanting to see any more, I pulled myself out of the vision. Tears streamed down my face.

Arielle placed her hands on my shoulders as she had before. They were warm and reassuring, like her voice. “Just breathe,” she said. “You’ll be okay.”

The sound of Michael’s tortured screaming echoed in my ears.

“They were angels,” I said, trembling. “How could they…” I couldn’t finish my thought. I was sobbing too much.

Bathed in a shimmering golden light, Arielle said nothing but her silence spoke volumes. Her presence soothed me as I steadied myself.

“He called Michael a rapist,” I gasped. “It’s a lie.”

A look of astonishment crossed her face. “Tell me what happened.”

I told her everything, from being caught with Michael in the woods to the things Damiel said when he cut off Michael’s wings. When I was done, she didn’t speak, but inclined her head as though she were listening to something that only she could hear.

“You were there,” I accused, angrier than I expected. “Didn’t you know?”

“I was naïve.”

“The other angel,” I said, thinking of the golden-haired one in charge. “He let it happen. It wasn’t just Damiel.”

“Raguel was very powerful. He had already started to turn.” She leaned forward and rested her hands on her knees. The gesture made her seem uncomfortable, anxious, when she was normally so calm. “I didn’t see it coming. None of us did.”

I searched for more memories of what she was telling me, but my mind was too tired to focus. “How come I can remember this and Michael can’t?”

“That’s the trauma. It twisted his memory. The only way Michael’s mind could make sense of…what happened…” She avoided repeating what I told her, as if she were unable to speak of such torture. “…was to believe what Damiel told him. He believes he deserved it.”

“When will he remember the truth?”

Her back tensed and she rubbed her hands along the tops of her thighs, her gaze shooting around the room. “He may never.”

I sucked in my breath, fighting the urge to cry again. It was almost too much to absorb at once. “You made me remember all this. Why, if there’s nothing I can do?”

She got up and crossed the living room to the kitchen, where she found a clean glass in the cupboard and turned on the tap. “You’re probably the only one who can reach him. We had to try.” She returned with a glass of water and handed it to me. I didn’t think I was thirsty until I gulped it down. “You should rest now.”

I was too wired to rest, so I got myself another glass of water, trying to make sense of everything. I only remembered my life with him, but his life extended way beyond mine. Arielle hadn’t told me everything, and she’d had an uneasiness when she spoke of Damiel, one I couldn’t quite place. “What happened to Michael after I…?”

I didn’t say “died,” but she knew what I meant. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

A heavy sadness came over her, sharpening her features and darkening the hollows of her eyes. “After you died, Damiel came back and killed him.”

A huge tidal wave of panic crashed through my thoughts. It rumbled and swept all the way down my legs. Damiel had killed him? And Michael was going to fight him again?

Seeing how shaken I was, she led me to the couch to sit down. “It was different then. Michael was alone, and he felt responsible for your death. He wasn’t evil, but he rejected the light and thought he should be punished. Damiel convinced Michael that he was unforgivable, so when he died he agreed to let Damiel take his soul to Hell.”

Hell? Michael chose Hell?

“He was broken, Mia. Tortured for a long time.” Her eyes blazed with a fierce and inhuman beauty as they blinked back tears. “Taking his wings was nothing compared to what he endured there. They made him think he had no free will, and then they gave him orders to hurt people.”

“What did he do?” I asked, remembering Michael had said that demons could come and go so they could hurt people. I’d thought he’d meant Damiel. “Was he a demon?”

Frowning, she flicked her cloaked wings with the same kind of irritation that a cat flicks its tail. “He was a slave.”

“But he did hurt people.”

“He took no pleasure in it, if that’s any consolation.”

I was no longer listening. I knew Michael had done terrible things but never wanted to believe it. I remembered his shame, how he’d feared what I’d think of him. A quake of sadness reverberated all the way to my toes.

It was all happening again. Michael had come back to face me, and Damiel was still in the picture, trying to ruin everything, waiting for the opportunity to enslave him again. If Michael felt unforgivable for what happened to me, Damiel would always have a way to hurt him. “Damiel plans to do it all over again,” I said, thinking aloud. “After everything Michael’s done to get better.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“Can Michael die this time?”

A gritty determination came over her. “Michael won’t be alone this time.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Arielle eyed me cautiously as I tried to process. Michael had never hurt me but had spent the last nine thousand years believing he had. Damiel had messed with his head, convinced Michael to join him in Hell, and even killed him. Michael having done some of Damiel’s dirty work could only make it worse. Now Damiel was on his way back, with an army this time. The fact that Michael wouldn’t be alone gave me little comfort.

There was a knock at the front door. It made me jump.

“It’s okay,” Arielle said, touching my wrist. “It’s Michael.”

When I opened the door, the first thing I noticed was that his hair was messy and the white singlet he normally wore when flying was torn and stained with blood. But at least he was visibly unharmed. When he stepped inside, I could see the stubble on his chin. His eyes shone wildly, circled by dark rings of fatigue. He hadn’t slept.

“Hi,” I said. Though I was happy to see him, I wondered what kind of night he must have had.

“Mia, we need to talk.”

He and Arielle exchanged a look that made me wish I could still hear their thoughts.

“What happened?” I asked, alarmed.