holy

xii

brett, please.

a different voice this time. distant and muffled, yet intoxicating, alluring. it was as if the voice was a gentle guide, leading him out of the white abyss he had become so comfortable in.

he became conscious of his breathing first. it seemed...normal, no raspy inhales and no wheezing gasps. however, a sudden pressure on his chest made his breaths more shallow than they should have been.

then came the sense of smell and hearing. it was almost silent, if you didn't count the sound of his breathing and the pounding of his heart in his ears. and it smelled wonderful, like all the best parts of heaven with just a touch of the woodsy musk that he'd become so familiar with.

and then he could feel everything. he wasn't hot or cold, and wasn't shivering as he had been an hour ago. his head didn't ache and the soreness of his wings was no longer.

then the second voice came back to him like an echo.

"brett, please."

brett woke with a start, eyes opening, gasping, and looking down at the heavy weight on his chest.

eddy?

if eddy was here, does that mean that...?

brett looked around the grand hall, recognizing it as the council's palace. his eyes landed upon the only other angel in the room, archangel michael, who was poised upon his throne, shocked and staring back at brett.

in a panic, brett stood up quickly, leaving eddy's head to drop to the floor, and rushed over to the archangel.

"my apologies for the disrespect, archangel," he kneeled before the throne, eyes cast downward.

"angel brett," michael began in amazement, "your eyes..."

brett gulped. he forgot about that part.

"yes... the white, it's the—it's because of the sickness," he said quietly. he hated to be reminded of how un-holy his condition had made him, with his unnatural eyes and grey wings. it was disgraceful.

the archangel tilted his head, confused. brett's eyes weren't white, no, not even close. they certainly weren't blue, either, as all angels eyes were.

they were a stark, shimmering, vibrant gold, as if they were made from the finest jewelry in all of heaven. michael knew exactly what those eyes meant, because they mirrored his own.

"no, brett, they're gold," michael said, astonished.

brett almost didn't believe him, but then the voice intruded his mind again.

"eddy needs you."

oh, god.

literally, god.

he completely forgot about the archangel as he looked back at eddy's limp body on the floor.

"what happened to him?" brett asked, distraught and fearful. he had never seen eddy so vulnerable, so broken.

"ah, yes, i believe brother gabriel was a bit too enthusiastic about the holy water," michael admitted shamefully. like all those in heaven, he was in no way fond of any form of violence.

brett took cautious steps over to the demon, kneeling down over him, taking eddy's large hand in to his smaller ones.

eddy needs you. eddy needs you. eddy needs you.

the voice was like a mantra in his head.

"will he be okay?" brett's voice was tinged with worry.