The Council of Seven sat in their places at the round table. Twelve Companions encircled them, still as statues in their long black robes and head coverings. Behind them the torches glowed, casting their flickering light on the otherwise black, cavernous room.
Max sat at the table between Gabriel and Raphael. To be among the counsel was usually considered an honor. He was acutely aware that he'd been granted admittance, not as an advising member, but as one who had made an error on a near-inconceivable scope and now needed to help make it right.
His father had found a seat between Uriel and Barachiel. The young one, Lux, hovered in space next to Azrael, a bare shimmer of intent, clinging to his father. He'd been saved from his tormentors, but worn down to virtual non-existence by the pain of his suffering: The suffering he endured at the hands of those who now held Max's wife and son captive.
Raphael leaned forward and, always in tune with the intent of another to speak, the others focused their attention on him.
"Son of Azrael, surely you understand that the power to give life, and to take it away, is reserved for I Am, alone."
Max chewed on his thumbnail. "Yes, archangel."
"Why have you committed this act against the natural order, then?" Michael asked in his powerful baritone.
"What was I supposed to do?"
"You were supposed to have faith," Raphael answered in his soft, feminine voice.
"Faith?" Max let his hands fall hard to the table. "I have faith in the natural order, as established by The Creator. What happened to my family was not part of that. Raboch held me captive while his crawlers murdered my wife and child and kidnapped their true selves."
Michael leaned forward. "Is that really how it happened? They were murdered? Did your wife not die at her own hand?"
"None if it would have happened if not for Raboch," Max insisted.
"None of it would have happened if you had not meddled with humans," Barachiel snapped. "You knew better. You made poor choices." He looked down his perfectly straight nose at Max. "You defied the rules that govern your kind."
Straining against the urge to leap from his chair and strangle the self-righteous jerk, Max said through gritted teeth, "My kind were created when my father broke the rules."
"And your kind have been given position only through grace," Barachiel shot back.
Max slammed his fist against the table. "You would do no different! It is not your place to sit in judgement of those who walk in flesh."
"Nor is it your place to be arrogant in the face of your offense," Azrael reminded his son.
"My offense? My offense?" Max leapt to his feet, letting the ornate golden chair fall behind him. "I was created through your offense! You've left thousands of children alone in the world because of your offense. We are orphaned and abandoned by humans who sense we are different, and fear us. We're left to find our way in a world where we are not a part of the natural order. You let us spend lifetime after lifetime alone and in pain because you are arrogant in the face of your offense!"
Raguel spoke in a whisper that reverberated from the walls like the tinkling of dozens of tiny brass bells. "None of this is helpful to the woman or the child. None of it will repair the imbalance."
One of the Companions stepped forward and righted Max's chair. He sank down into it and rubbed his face with his hands, running his fingers through his hair to push it out of his eyes.
"What do we know of this latest breech?" Azrael asked.
"It is severe. There is a clean rip in the fabric. The fallen can move with impunity. An imbalance the likes of which have not been seen in a thousand generations has resulted." Raguel said.
Max wrapped his arms around himself. He wasn't sure what was worse, knowing that Lily and Liam were in danger, the guilt over putting the lives of countless human innocents at risk, or the helplessness to do anything about any of it.
"You're not helpless," Michael said, softly in answer to his thoughts. "There is not a creature with free will who has not fallen short of their potential. Real power lies in the ability to come back from failure. It is clear that your passion lies in retrieving the two who have been taken. Follow your heart, then. Six of these will go with you to save them." Immediately, every second warrior stepped forward and bowed in Michael's direction.
Raphael nodded his approval. "Azrael, you are needed at your post. A breech, even a terrible one, changes little in the great scope of creation. The humans will still transition. You must guide them."
Azrael inclined his head in acknowledgement.
"I will guard the breech," a voice called out from the doorway behind Max. He turned to see Daniel standing there in gleaming silver, a crooked grin on his face.
"Take a legion and bear witness. Make haste," Michael said.
Daniel flew through the hall on snow white wings.
"I would go now, too, if I may," Max said.
Michael nodded. "This humility is appropriate. You may go, and may the Spirit go with you."
Max stood and left the room. The six black-clad Companions fell in behind him.
"Maximus!"
He stopped and turned. Azrael jogged to catch up. He held his son by the shoulders and kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry if I left you in pain. Truly, I am."
Max swallowed all the words that choked him. He had never heard Azrael apologize to anyone for anything. "I'm sorry if I disappointed you."
"I have never been more proud of any of my children. You have learned true love. The kind of love that sacrifices and makes hard choices. That kind of love is what results from being created in the image of The One. You are a far better father than I ever knew how to be. I pray you are successful in recovering your wife and son." He strode away, disappearing into the shadows.
Max looked around at the six sets of dark eyes watching him. "Let's go," he said, and the little group raced toward certain torment.
**********************************************************************************
Best part of being a fantasy/paranormal writer? Just because your characters die, doesn't necessarily mean their story ends.
Thanks for reading, commenting, and voting. It means more than you know!