The Gathering

XVIII: Doubt

"Can you take me to that bridge" Jonah finally asked when he and Michael were almost back at St. Catherine's. Michael didn't reply, his large frame sulked as he was lost in thought. "Michael?" he prodded again.

"Yeah?" Michael hadn't heard him.

"I asked if we could go to that bridge sometime?" he repeated.

"Oh, sometime, I don't know." Michael attempted to smile his large infectious smile at Jonah but it fell flat, there was nothing he wanted to smile about.

"I think, maybe, that if I was dreaming about it, it might mean something." Jonah continued though his better judgement told him not to.

"Look, you were probably only seeing it as some kind of bleeding effect from Gadreel." Michael was becoming impatient, he didn't want to go back to that bridge, not anytime soon and not with Jonah.

"Maybe." Said Jonah, not believing it but wanting to change the conversation. "So, all this stuff with Gadreel and Jo, was that only since your last mission? Something big must have happened."

"No." Michael was still uneager to talk but less hostile than when the bridge had been mentioned. "This had been going on for a while... it's why As hadn't seen me in so long. I've been a double agent. I would go down to Earth to spy on Gadreel and her little band of rogue angels, then return to Beulah to be an informant to Gabriel. I did as he asked the first few times, but after a while I started to not tell him everything, then Matriel-" Michael cut himself off and mentally reshuffled away from her name. "after that, I told Gadreel what I'd been doing."

"She didn't kill you?" Jonah was surprised, seeing as Johanna and Gadreel didn't seem like the kind to forgive a spy, he could imagine the rage in Jo's eyes as she drew her sword at Michael.

"No," Michael chuckled a little, "she knew. She knew the whole time."

"How?" Jonah asked

"Because she's the most powerful empath in existence, so much stronger than the Abbess and her red-hooded little cult" a sneer of disgust, as if he had smelled something putrid. "Gadreel doesn't need to go into your mind, she just knows things about you... important things." The sting of the empath's fingertips still lingered forefront in Jonah's mind, he shuddered. "She said she'd known about my intent from the first second I'd stepped through the church doors."

"So, why didn't she tell anyone?"

"She saw something else too; doubt. Especially as the time went on and I got to know her better." Jonah could tell Michael wasn't talking about Gadreel when he said 'her'.

"Doubt." Jonah repeated. "Been having a lot of that lately". Jonah exhaled a large puff of morning air as they approached St. Catherine's. 

As the large doors swung open and the warmer air from St. Catherine's washed over Michael and Jonah, they noticed Johanna there to greet them, a serious look on her face.

"Gadreel needs to see you two." She simply said, her brown eyes a mixture of afraid and angry.

"Jonah." Gadreel addressed him psychically as they approached her alcove.

"Gadreel" Jonah bowed slightly.

"I need to examine your mind." She 'said', seeming very intent.

"Why?" Jonah shirked away slightly, not wanting another angel, no matter who it was, to be inside his mind.

"Because they know exactly where you are." Johanna stated bluntly, more anger than fear in her eyes now. "Did you know? Did you realize you could get us all killed?" Jo stepped closer to Jonah, he backed away, hands up between them.

"Calm down, Jo." Michael parted the two with his hands, "How could he know that?"

"It's in your mind." Gadreel's voice radiated in all of their minds. "Someone placed a link between themselves and Jonah in his mind."

"We need to get it out." Johanna emphasized, taking a step towards both Michael and Jonah. "I don't care how uncomfortable he is."

Jonah thought for a moment. Clearly Michael trusted Gadreel implicitly, she was able to tell that Michael was a spy and who knows what else, it must mean that Gadreel knew what she was talking about, 'she is the oldest – the first empath. She'll probably be much more gentle than Sera's empath.' Then he thought of As. The letter he had received from Michael, it showed him that As' trust in Michael was also implicit, unquestionable, as was Michael's trust in As for him to reveal even vaguely the true nature of his mission on Earth. He thought of how Michael and Johanna had risked their very lives to save Jonah from Barachiel, especially Johanna, who risked her life for someone she had never even met. He owed it to them, he couldn't risk more lives being lost because of him. He thought of Margaret, of Marion... Maria.

"I'll do it."

"We will be particularly vulnerable while I remove this psychic link from Jonah's mind." Gadreel explained. "I cannot shield our presence and venture into his mind at the same time. Michael. Johanna. You must protect this sanctuary with your lives while I cannot." Johanna and Michael nodded with conviction. Jonah felt guilty that more people now had to put their lives at risk on his account.

"How long will it take?" Johanna asked Gadreel.

"I do not know, It depends on many factors. If the empath who placed this link was capable, it may take a few minutes, possibly longer."

Johanna and Michael were ready. Stood guard in the main hall of St. Catherine's cathedral, clad in their salvaged bronze armor and bronze weapons and shields. They put their balaclavas on and on top they placed bronze helmets, also made in the angelic forge. Their palms were clammy and their brows sweaty, waiting and anticipating a forthcoming assault by Barachiel and his legions... The second Gadreel's psychic field lifted, all the empaths in Beulah would hone in on Jonah's position, and the floodgates would open, caution to the wind that it wasn't the ninth hour, they would take that risk to eliminate him.

...

In a room that mirrored the octagonal chamber at St. Catherine's, the Abbess Hahasiah stood in the center shape. Flanked on every side, lining every single tier, were dozens of red-cloaked figures. All with their hands linked, a giant mandala of red robes and stark white skin. All 'staring' facelessly up at the massive mosaic of stained glass on the ceiling, swaying gently. In the center, Hahasiah's single sinister bloodshot eye darted around in its socket by its own volition, charging from the left to the right, up and down, diagonally and straight. It's tiny pupil shook and whirred until it finally stopped dead in its racing path. "Jonah." They all chanted at once psychically.

Asmodel had been waiting for this very moment, the psychic reverberations of the Abbess' choir of empaths rang out through the streets of Beulah, into every mind. It was excruciating yet coursed through As like a rush of pure adrenaline. He knew what he had to do; retrieve the traitor – his once best friend – Jonah, dead or alive. He was already adorned in his pristine armor and weapons, standing at the harbor, ready. Asmodel had been offered a small force of two cadets since it had become known that other rogue angels had been assisting Jonah. He chose Muriel, who was itching for revenge after her previous defeat, and Ieshim, a skilled fighter whose lightweight and lithe frame could match Jonah's speed and agility.

He also carried with him a scroll, given to him by Metatron, a scroll found in Jonah's apartment. On it was stamped in an ancient human script: "הֶבֶל" The last testament of Abel. Though Metatron was securely in Gabriel's custody, his vast network of angels who owed him favors throughout the years allowed him to smuggle the scroll onto Asmodel's person for this very occasion. He had planned to be there when Jonah read it, but Metatron knew he may not get that chance again, Jonah must know what the scroll contained.

"Cadet First Class Asmodel!" shouted Phanuel, "prepare for transport!" As closed his eyes and exhaled, the hilt of his sword gripped tightly in his anticipatory hand. Phanuel channeled a bolt of lightning that struck the port in the harbor, illuminating the grassy landscape with a brilliant white flash. As closed his eyes tight as the whiteness enveloped him, he felt the freezing cold rush of upward wind sweep around him as his stomach leapt to his throat from the sudden momentum.

'This is it.' thought Asmodel as his shimmering light form crashed into the ground below, blasting a hole through the roof of St. Catherine's cathedral