As the flash of light and the deafening sound dimmed, Jonah's senses adjusted to his new environment; he was lying face-down on a wooden floor, on his back he could feel the weight of two others... as well as the warm, tingling sensation of blood still running from an open wound. His face stung, he tried to assess the damages and concluded that either Muriel or Barachiel had broken his nose. The two weights lifted from his back as his two rescuers stood up.
The man, still clad in his armor and balaclava, offered Jonah his hand. Jonah struggled to get to his feet, the pain in his lower back had become like a throbbing toothache. The adrenaline had worn off. Jonah then scanned his surroundings, and he couldn't believe it. He was in the same room from his horrible nightmare... dark cherry wood slats covered the octagonal walls, running horizontally. He lay in the center platform, flanked on all sides by ascending tiers of wood in all directions. He noticed three differences, though. The first – and most marked – was the absence of flame, ash, and cloaked figures. The second was that the empty void above him had been replaced with an ornate stained-glass window, though he could not tell what was beyond it. The third was the door on the upper tier, ajar – he wasn't trapped this time.
"I've... been here before." Jonah muttered, wiping blood from his fractured nose. "In a dream..."
"Yeah, that was us." Said the female figure, taking off her balaclava. Jonah did not recognize her. Her hair was shoulder-length, straight, and black. Her brown eyes accented her olive skin.
"What do you mean, 'it was you?'" Jonah turned to look at the girl, "Who are you?"
"Johanna." She stated plainly.
"I'm Jonah – but you already know that, I guess."
"Well, the new recruit there sure does." Johanna gestured towards the man, who was now removing his balaclava.
"Yeah... surprise!" the man sarcastically said. The balaclava's removal had revealed his striking green eyes and rounded nose. He combed his short, dirty blonde hair with his fingers.
"Michael?" Jonah couldn't believe his eyes.
"At least they didn't fully wipe your memories." He pulled Jonah in for a hug, roughly clasping his hand on Jonah's lower back, which elicited a muffled shriek. "Oh, shit!" Michael saw that his hand was now coated in thick blood. "That looks deep... Jo!" The girl took a look at his back, slowly lifting his blood-soaked tourist shirt.
"I got it," she confidently said, putting her hands onto the wound, making Jonah flinch. "Good thing you brought us back, I wouldn't have the energy if I did." Jonah could feel a warm touch on his skin, it soothed the pain slightly as his mind continued to race. "Hold still..." Johanna whispered. She concentrated, her eyes glowing a pale white as they closed, as if she was gathering. The layers of skin, muscle, tissue, and even a glimpse of bone started to close in on themselves. Jonah felt a dull tingling sensation as his shattered nerves and blood vessels rebuilt themselves. Her eyes opened to see nothing but scar tissue where the bone-deep wound had been. "All better!"
...
Lightning roared back through the sky, impacting Beulah's docks. Barachiel and Muriel came into view. Barachiel was unharmed, his imposing demeanor rivalled by the anger in his eyes. Muriel was regaining consciousness; her right shin had begun to bruise and swell. The male cadet, however, was not present. "Medic!" Phanuel called, seeing the condition of Muriel's leg. "What happened?"
"We have more... interlopers." Barachiel strode away from his injured comrade in the direction of Gabriel. He arrived at Gabriel's study in a matter of moments, barging through the door.
"We have heard the chatter of the empaths, what happened?" Gabriel stood behind his desk, having been anxiously awaiting Barachiel's return. "How are the cadets?"
"The girl was humiliated" Barachiel slumped into a chair facing Gabriel. "The boy has been reduced to ash." He slammed his fist onto the chair's armrest.
"Cadet Poyel is dead?" Gabriel was shocked and angry, "Jonah killed him?"
"Not Jonah... though he bested the girl, two others - two angels intervened."
"Surely the same responsible for Michael and Penemue's deaths... and the three others previous." Michael rested his head in his hands, exasperated. "We are developing a serious problem, Barachiel." He began to pace between his rat's cage and the opposing shelf. "This is now six of us dead at their hands! If gatherings become unsafe, Barachiel, I don't have to tell you the ramifications."
"You do not..." Barachiel and Gabriel were silent. "What of my son", he broke the silence.
"Asmodel has been corrected, Hahasiah ensures me that he will be more obedient than a human." Gabriel exhaled, frustration turning into exhaustion.
...
"I can't believe you're alive!" Jonah couldn't help but blurt out what he had been thinking since the balaclava came off. "What is this place?" Jonah exited the room he had dreamt of and entered another wooden alcove. In it, various incense and oils surrounded a large cushion. A lone hanging lightbulb illuminated the darkness. Jonah also spotted a ladder going up to a closed hatch in the ceiling.
"Welcome to St. Catherine's" Michael mockingly outstretched his arms. "our little heaven on earth."
"A church?" Jonah guessed that this had to be the basement, some sort of catacomb.
"It was. Been abandoned for a few years now. It's dusty but it serves its purpose." Michael glanced at the empty cushion, "Jo, where's Gadreel?"
"She's resting, don't bother her for a while." Johanna replied, taking her bronze armor off and placing them onto a small metal rack. "It took a lot out of her this time..."
Just then, Jonah realized that he was very hungry. His stomach growled loud enough to wake the dead in the nearby church graveyard. "I was thinking the exact same thing," Michael replied to Jonah's stomach. "C'mon, I'll show you around the city!"
'The city!' Jonah was anxious with both fear and happiness, he imagined scenes from the stories As had recounted to him, of his trips into the human cities. "What city are we in?"
"It'll be a surprise!" Michael yanked Jonah's hand, unsubtly instructing him to follow.
Michael climbed the wooden ladder and opened the hatch, Jonah followed him up into a small alcove near the altar. The cellar had been used for storage before the church had closed, a convenient location near the altar. Jonah marveled at St. Catherine's, it was so much bigger than the little church Sera had brought him to. The ceiling seemed to stretch for miles upwards, intricate stonework on all the pillars supporting it. What seemed to be hundreds of pews stood in front of him, Jonah imagined the human capacity must be in the hundreds!
Michael whistled for Jonah, who had lost himself in admiration for the building, his mind elsewhere. Jonah hurried to catch up with Michael, who had just exited via the large front doors. The light from the city stung Jonah's adjusting eyes, while they calibrated, he noticed the smell of car exhaust, the snow in the air... and food! The sounds assaulted his ears, but they were almost melodic. The symphony of car horns delighted Jonah, the distant wail of a police siren their conductor. His eyes adjusted to the streets before him. The sidewalks dusted with powdery snow, the cars locked in traffic on the pavement, their headlights reflecting off the snow created a warm, comforting glow. Countless humans wandered the midday streets of the city, most wearing heavy coats with matching gloves and hats. Bright yellow taxis dotted the traffic.
Jonah realized he was supposed to be following Michael, having gotten lost in his own awe again. He scanned the infinite crowd and saw Michael standing outside a building across the street from him; "Sal's Delicatessen" the bright neon sign read. Jonah didn't know what 'delicatessen' meant, but from its smell, he knew he was going to like it.
Michael had paid for Jonah's meal, having stolen money from an ATM recently. Jonah looked puzzled at the sandwich in front of him. His only experience of human food thus far had been a greasy bag of potato chips from Marion's. But after the first bite of whatever various cold cuts Michael had selected, the rest of the sandwich was gone momentarily as well. After letting the food, along with the experience of eating it, digest for a while, Jonah and Michael continued to walk the streets, to explore the veritable alien world Jonah found himself in. Though Metatron's scrolls had proved useful in giving a rudimentary knowledge of the human world, nothing compared to the smell of that delicatessen.
Michael, yanking Jonah's hand, led him down alleyways and sidewalks, through the labyrinthine grid of towering concrete trees. Everything was new to Jonah, and his mind could barely keep up with all the sights, the sounds, even the colors. And when Jonah told Michael he was feeling a little overwhelmed, Michael only chuckled and replied "Wait 'til you see where we're going next!"
When Michael and Jonah turned one of the endless corners, Jonah knew this was it. The lights from the billboards dilated his pupils, he couldn't absorb so much information at once. The sounds of honking subsided to the sound of hundreds and hundreds of humans chattering. Jonah and Michael squeezed through the crowd, shoulder to shoulder with every single denizen of the city. Jonah saw a vendor's cart selling shirts, he went quickly to it, this time pulling Michael instead of the other way around. Of course, Michael had the money, so he couldn't go without him. Jonah threw his old shirt into a garbage can and replaced it with his new t-shirt: "I Love New York!" it read.
"This place is incredible!" Jonah marveled, "I wish As could see it!"
"He will, soon." Michael replied, yanking Jonah's hand again, this time directing him towards another side street and away from all the commotion.
...
"How are you feeling, Cadet Asmodel?" Seraphiel asked As, still lying down in his cold cell.
"Much better, sir." He monotonously replied, turning his head slightly to see her. Seraphiel had not long ago been released from the clinic after a relatively long stint in the healer's pool. Much of her once perfectly braided platinum blond hair had been singed off. In its place was rough, patterned scar tissue over the right half of her scalp. The scarring continued over the right side of her face, her lips were mangled, malformed. Her right ear was nearly gone, as was her right nostril. Despite her injuries and her instructions to rest for as long as possible, she wore her usual bronze military uniform, befitting of a Lieutenant.
"Well that's good to hear, cadet." She said, mainly though the left side of her mouth. "Because it's about time you went back into the field..."
"Back..." As' head was fuzzy, his thoughts distorted. A black hole of empty thought had replaced the memories the empaths had altered. "...Where was I?"
"You were on a gathering, cadet." Sera feigned a tone of admiration "You were wounded by a rogue angel in the line of His Father's duty."
"Jonah?" At the mention of his name, Sera could feel her veins contract with anger, but she stifled it the best she could.
"Yes, cadet Jonah has defected... he injured you so severely that our empaths struggled to repair your mind." She spoke with a saccharine tone, "And he did this to me..." Sera turned her head fully to show As the scope of her burns, his eyes widened. "I am not yet ready to return to the fray, according to our medics. But you..." she patted As on the shoulder, beckoning him to look into her eyes. "You... are ready. The valiance you showed in the face of a former friend becoming an enemy was impressive, so impressive that Raphael and I have decided to offer you a promotion." As' eyes gazed into Sera's, her sharp features rendered brittle and deformed from her nose leftward. "Senior Cadet Asmodel..." She held out her hand, and after a moment of thought, As accepted.
...
Michael turned around, mid conversation, only to find Jonah no longer following. He scanned the crowds of the snow bitten streets and found Jonah transfixed by a television in a bar window.
"-ren managed to escape the blaze through the collapsing structure." He caught the last sentence fragment of the newscaster.
"Oh yeah, that's a television." Michael tugged on Jonah's new t-shirt.
"That's the church..." Jonah muttered. Michael could see him trying his best to stifle tears. "I'm going to make her pay." His tone shifted from morose to vengeful, "She killed all of them." Michael turned to look at the news report:
"Deadly Christmas Morning Church Fire Kills 23"
Michael understood. "That's why we're doing this..." Jonah turned his head to face Michael, who put his hand on Jonah's shoulder. "Jo, Gadreel, all of us. We want to make them pay too." This comforted Jonah greatly, his anger cooled as he took a deep breath.
...
In the chilled early morning hours, five archangels lead by Raphael himself stalked the streets of the Central District of Beulah... hunting. As the predators approached the lair of their prey, they drew their weapons in anticipation. Raphael aimed his staff at the door to a small brick dwelling. His unseeing eyes illuminated as a bolt of lightning emanated from the head of his staff and coursed through the air! It crashed into the door like a battering ram, eviscerating the wooden barrier. Before the smoke could settle, the five archangels stormed into the home, Raphael following promptly behind them.
As he made his way deeper into the abode, the unmistakable sound of a physical confrontation began to arise. Grunts and indiscernible argument reverberated through the modest home. Raphael patiently waited for the archangels to bring out the occupant, it was only a few moments later that Metatron emerged, being escorted by the soldiers. His eyes grew fiery when he saw it was Raphael who had ordered the invasion of his privacy. "What are you doing?" He growled toward Raphael, who only replied with a menacing look of pure disgust.