Fallen

Chapter Twenty

"I know what you have been looking for," Miles said without pointless preamble. Setting the book on the small table inside the room, he turned to Michael.

Although he knew he should be grateful, his focus kept solely on his task, Michael could not erase the momentary fear he felt.

"How did you know?" he heard himself ask. If Miles knew, did that mean...?

"I know you," he said easily. "Better than most. I do not sleep much, and in that, see the light on in your room until all hours. You have spoken nothing of the mortal in days, and yet, I know you are now bound." When Michael still said nothing, his own fear evident, Miles smiled. "I am smarter than you realize, friend. From what you offered to me, I deciphered a search to Father Josiah being the logical next step."

"Does Ariel know?" Michael asked, immediately fearful.

Miles shook his head. "No. I assure you, he knows nothing."

Breathing a long exhale of relief, Michael allowed himself to consider his other fears.

"Miles, I cannot ask you to aide me. To do so, would be to risk your own fate."

"And yet, you have not asked me. I come here on my own, at my will. My choice is my own, and I wish you help you."

Michaels fear for his friend did not ease, and yet, he was thankful for his help. Even more so when he found that Miles had already found the possible location of Father Josiah.

The next several nights were spent planning. What would need to be done? How would they arrive? And, if the Father was in fact there, what would be said? This was certainly not something he had encountered before, despite his own beliefs in the purity of such a pairing. It was impossible to know his reaction.

It would all be discovered shortly, as the taxi turned yet another corner through the busy Los Angeles streets. The Angels looked out the windows of the car with a quiet fascination to the city beyond. The buildings, the constant movement. The clothing, the shouting. The heaviness of impurity weighed down on them, as though a smothering cover.

The buildings thinned, the noise ebbing, and slowly the car pulled along side a small, modest church. Brick structured, aged and weathered, Michael stared in disbelief. Was this really a place of worship? So decayed and broken?

Turning to Miles, the Angel matched his comrades thoughts. "Almost fitting, since this world is so broken itself, don't you think?"

Without another word, Miles stepped from the car, handing the driver the few bills they had taken from the residence. Joining him on the sidewalk, Michael felt the severity of what he was about to do.

"You do not need to accompany me," he turned to Miles. "You do not need to incriminate yourself in this further."

Miles laughed. "Michael, there is no further. I have assisted you, and will continue to do so. The depth of such is irrelevant once the choice made."

Offering his friend a small smile, Michael closed his eyes for a moment of silence, before ascending the broken and cracked stone steps to the front door.

Pushing it aside, the heavy creak of aged metal matched the buildings appearance. Inside, however, it was quite different. Small, but tidy, the walls a dark wood leading to simple stained glass windows. Each depicting various scenes of worship, it was as if they told a story. Pews lined on either side of a short aisle, the low but modest altar at the head.

All below a thick, golden cross, that seemed to emit a glow from within itself.

Before the Angels even had the chance to comment, a small, hunched figure appeared at the left of the altar.