God's Gone AWOL

[7] Evil

Thanks to that little night on the cliff side, Atticus got in trouble.

It was his own fault. He had neglected his orders when he didn't kill Bentley Hellbourne on sight. It was only fair that he should face consequences for his actions —even if Atticus knew deep down that the result of him actually obeying orders would have been infinitely worse. So he didn't even care that he had angered Camael to the deepest extent.

As he sat with his head bent on the other side of Camael's desk, he couldn't stop thinking about that demon in the woods. Over and over, he replayed his strange conversation with Bentley. The memory of her body turning away from his, just as he had —for the first time in his entire life— figured out how to dig up the words that had settled at the bottom of his heart for so long. Now, he didn't even know what those words were anymore.

"Do you understand the foolishness of your actions?" Camael was going off, "You could have eliminated the threat of Bentley Hellbourne entirely! But you chose to let her go??"

Atticus didn't say anything. He just stared blankly at the floor, his fingers curled tightly over the red ring now chained around his neck.

Randolph, one of the other choir leaders, stood beside her. Having listened to Camael's tirade up until this point, he let out a weary sigh and swooped in to Atticus' rescue.

"Sister, remember something," he said, "Atticus and Bentley were once under Damaris' leadership together. It's understandable for him to honor their shared past and show mercy,"

"'Shared past'? Need I remind you that half the demons in Hell share a past with us?" She rounded back on Atticus, "If this was anybody but Bentley Hellbourne, perhaps we could excuse some of your actions. How could you let such a high-profile target go so easily?"

"Sister—"

"Don't try to ease the tension, Randolph! He's in my choir. His mistakes also affect my name!"

Randolph sighed slightly.

"I understand," he told her, "I just wish to remind you that Atticus must be disciplined fairly. You should cool down before passing any judgement—"

"Is passing judgement so hard that I can't do it while angry? It's enough if he's sent guard the gates of Heaven for a hundred years!" she said loudly, "Not every mistake needs a lesson learned as a result. Let's just acknowledge that the child behaved foolishly and be on with it!"

This whole time, Atticus didn't move a muscle. He didn't even look up at either of the debating choir leaders. His mind was in a completely different realm, and he didn't care enough to bring it back to Heaven.

For a moment, Randolph looked as though he wanted to say something to Atticus. He let out a sigh of sympathy, and was about to speak again when a rapid knock on the door startled everyone in the office. A strange feeling came over Atticus and he quickly glanced up.

"Come in," Camael said, closing her golden eyes with restrained frustration.

A tall angel with dark cornrows stepped into the office. Atticus recognized her as a distant memory: Ephrath, Damaris' only choir member who had transferred to civil work after The Fall. But it had been so many years that all traces of familiarity had almost disappeared. Nervously, Ephrath's eyes darted over the two choir leaders, but halted when she spotted Atticus sitting silently off to the side.

"What is it? What do you want?" Camael said "If you have something to say, just do so now,"

Whether because she was nervous, or in shock, Ephrath wasn't able to form her words right away. She paused for a second, swallowing as she tried to gain some composure.