Radicle (Terminal trilogy #2, can stand alone)

28: The stars were falling

"Just trust me. Send me out there. I'll know what to do when I get there- I always do."

"I can't risk it." He said. And it may have just been me filling in the gaps, but I almost want to say he said it sadly.

"Once I get my hands on a blade, I will be fine, and you won't have to worry anymore." I said. "I will be at the church until they come to pick me up."

I wasn't sure about my decision, or indeed, if I even had made a choice to begin with. I was just counting on combat. I always could trust blood to bring me to my senses.

The church was scattered, and I realized that now- perhaps now I saw it more like Stacy saw it, a fad of people still too shy to move on to something new. But they'd grow bold in time- especially as I began to drift away from the angel who had made them loyal and into some demon that no one cared for.

I decided I wouldn't tell anyone about my trial. Except Lil, of course, who I found myself dragging to the rooftop with a sense of certain nostalgia. We sat against the entryway's brick wall.

I hate people who don't speak their mind. So I kept it blunt. "My name is Michael Castellano."

Lil sort of said 'huh', but it was really more to herself- she was waiting for an explanation. Her lipstick-caked lips were parted, unsure, and her eyes were watching her hands.

"I'm not an angel." She was still waiting. "I guess I still am. But I don't consider it. All us angels- we're just- cult fiends, I guess. Humans who got caught up between a teenager with a god complex and another with a drug collection. So I don't want to be Nichael anymore. Just Michael."

"Like the Michael."

"Yes, but not really. It was my old name." I grimaced, but she hopefully couldn't see that in the dark of the night. "Do you remember that tall girl who used to follow me around? She was sister. Tegan Castellano. I killed her because Michael asked me to, and now it's been too long for me to mourn."

"You know, I didn't start to mourn my mother until last year. I was too busy hating her, I guess, and then too embarrassed to have a late start. But I came around to it. I make my prayers. I burn her candles. She would have liked it, I think, how long I waited. She was always rushing into things herself."

"I'm not an angel." I said, trying to draw her back to the subject.

Lil turned to face me, but her face was obscured by shadow. "Whatever, Michael. I could have told you that the moment you came through the door."

"So you're not upset with me?"

"I'm disappointed."

"That's... better than upset. I've kind of been worried about you, you know. Not like, overly. Just... you seemed so caught up in me. But you founded this cult. You should have known right from the start that I- and you did, didn't you? You always knew."

"I have a weakness for things I can't control." She said. "And I'm painfully self-aware of it. I look at the gods of the Norse pantheon, and I think, 'why not?' Why can't every spirit be real? Why shouldn't I want the world to be as magic as possible? But then I wake some mornings... and I hate myself. Because I bought all these goddamn candles and spent all these fucking hours praying instead of trying to meaning- actual meaning- in my life."

"Wouldn't your meaning be devotion then?"

"That's not a life, Michael. That's a pastime. That's a way to spend a sleepless night. It can't make you happy."

I had come up here to talk to Lil, and I guess she was now the one doing the talking. "That's why I'm leaving Michael."

"You don't have to defend yourself to me." Lil said, putting a hand on my arm. "I'm embarrassed to even be alive. I ran away from home when I was sixteen to escape this sort of communal life. And yet? Here I am now. Leading because I used to be led, but getting stringed along all the same."

"This kind of... everything is still worth something to the people who believe in it. Which is why, uh, I guess I'd like to ask you if you hold up the fort for me. Keep the community together. I'm going to fight in the war for a while. And it's time you took your following back."

"They wouldn't want me anymore. You're more charismatic. And an actual angel- or at least, you bear a semblance to one."

"Who wouldn't want you? I know you're smart. I know you're driven. And I know, wow, you are gorgeous. You gathered them first. You build them up. It won't be hard to make them yours."

"Again."

"Yes. Keyword: again."

"I need a drink." She sighed, standing up. I followed her to the doorway down.

"You know what you need?" I said laughing, watching her long hair twirl as she turned to face me. "A haircut."

"You said the angelic women in Heaven never cut their hair."

"You're not an angel, Lil. And neither am I."

She drew a knife from the holster on her thigh. I never really understood her reason for always carrying it with her, but now she handed it to me solemnly.

"Just turn around." I said, and then I grabbed a bunch of her hair and just cut it off. Not really a clean slice, but many small cuts until her hair was shoulder length. And then I kept going at it until her hair was frizzy and messy- but most of all, short.

She shook her head about, and then began running her fingers through to remove the stray hairs. Then she laughed. "My head feels so much lighter. Not metaphorically though. A haircut isn't going to solve that."

"Whatever. Go get your drink. And maybe shower. I'll be up here until the police come in the morning."