Radicle (Terminal trilogy #2, can stand alone)

2: Hellbound

When I woke up from my nightmare, the sun was already risen, and I had the sinking feeling I was already late. Dohn, who was resting at the base of a nearby tree, confirmed my suspicions. He shook himself awake as I got up. My skin felt incredibly odd after resting in the water all night, and I was surprised to find I wasn't ill.

"There you are." Dohn said. "We've been waiting for you. Come on and hurry! I'd hate to know how Michael's feeling- though I suppose your departure is essentially a done deal at this point. Can't exactly fell you now- but you know, I wouldn't risk it."

"I had a nightmare. Explosions in the sky."

Dohn frowned. "Prophecy?" He suggested. But we both knew only girls could see the future.

"Michael must be angry with me for waking up late."

He ran me out of the woods, and we met up with a procession of about four angels led by Gabriel, who looked rather disappointed in my late arrival. He cracked the bones on one of his hands.

"We're waiting at the Hellmouth."

I didn't know where that was, but I needn't to ask. Everything would be taken care of, if I just trusted in Michael's grace.

I ended up leading them, as was traditional, and I found I did know the way to Hellmouth after all- it was a familiar rock structure in the forest, off the old blackstone road.

Michael stood on the Hellmouth, and all except his brother bowed to the ground.

"Nichael. Come." Was all he said to me, and I got up shaking. He led me away from the Hellmouth- was he going to speak to me privately, and personally? Surely I wasn't worth that much?

But he kept going, far into the wildlands on the other end of the blackstone road that we were not allowed to go. He did not look back at me, of course, and I could not even see his breath.

Finally we came to a house mostly taken by the wild- and it was the first of many. He led me deep into what may have been another Heaven, though surely there was a divine reason we were to never pass through here. Finally we arrived at a house mostly taken by weeds. There was a fading sign in front, but my secondary language skills were too poor to read it in the short amount of time I had. There was a picture of an oak leaf on it though, that I was sure of.

"You're meeting her here." Michael said, taking me through the halls of the house. It was a large place with many old beds. "Can't risk her being so close to Heaven after all."

Perfectly wise. Michael wasn't referring to this place, however, as the meeting spot. Instead he took me to a sub-cavern of grey rock under the house, which contained a great pit. It had it's own light, and I knew it to be very magical.

"Jump in." Michael said. "Or wait, do you have any questions first?"

Many things rushed through my head. No one I knew had ever had the chance to ask questions of Michael before. But I was stupidly stuck on the present. "Why did you choose me?"

He gave a sort of sigh of displeasure. I shivered. "I didn't." He said. "She did."

He motioned to the pit and I jumped without hesitation.

And I woke a moment later. There had been no dream, and of course, no sleep to wake from. But it had been a true awakening ever the less, and I stood up and shook off my stars to find I hadn't moved. It was the pit that had disappeared. When I stood up and walked to the sub-cavern's stairs, I saw it reappear out of the corner of my eye. I suppose it had hidden as to not cause me to fall in again.

Upstairs was where I began to notice differences in my surroundings. Or, indeed the moment I took step onto the stair well. The wood was younger, and whole. And the upstairs hall of the house was even younger than that, and very clean.

There were rugs on the floor and paintings on the wall. And there was a woman here too, though she was most unlike any woman I had ever known. The angels who were women were all young, lithe and beautiful. It was their holiness that gave them their beauty, of course, as any true angel knew. If I was loyal to Michael I might one day become as beautiful as them, and my scars would finally heal.

But this woman here was old- and I knew that from some deep sense in my soul, but I suppose I could've guessed it either ways. She had that sort of faded wood skin and nails of ivory. Her hair was distastefully tied up, and her skin was baggy and stretched.

She was a human. I had seen them before, of course, though it was our holy sanction to never speak or interact with them. She was not entirely unfamiliar in this way, but I had never been so close to one before and I found myself curious. What sort of strange rules could she live by? Did she contain any of the Grace that the angelic women did, or were the human sexes purely equal?

She was sweeping, and she seemed to acknowledge me with a snake-ish air of displeasure.

I was mystified by her presence, but I recalled my mission and set out at once. Outside was another odd mess to my eyes- there was a sort of small farm of flowers that a young gardener was tending to, for one, but the rest of the village was of much greater interest.

I was astonished to realize I knew exactly what was happening, and that in fact my confusion was more caused by my wonder at why I knew all this- the great metal skeletons that lined the roads near Heaven had never had a name before, nor had any of the buildings. And yet I knew what a car was in that same way that I understood what police was, or how the post office worked.

I seemed to be downtown, in the town that Michael had led me to. But it was shining much brighter than it used to, and there were so many people! Surely, as I looked down the broad central road, there were thirty people walking about? And in such a small section too. How many did the humans number?

The angels' numbers would always be many, that we knew. We could not die as long as Michael didn't, only lose our mortal vessel. But Michael protected the soul. He carried it off in our funeral ceremonies, and bottled it up and waited. And when the time came, all our dead and fallen would return to us.

But our number of alive and available to fight was steadily dropping. We had entered a good period in the recent moments, but previously the demons had wreaked us with our own swords, and ripped our Grace out and smeared our blood onto their skin. I did not know our current standing in population, but I also didn't know every angel's name- surely that was a good sign?

But if I had to guess, I'd go with a number somewhere above two-thousand. We had had a more divine number once, the Brothers say, five-thousand perhaps. Fifty-five thousand, even. Fifty-five thousand five-hundred and fifty-five? That'd be perfect.

I supposed my next task was to return to the Hellmouth, or possibly Heaven. Unless I was to wait here for my contract to arrive, instead of seeking her for myself? I knew she had to be a demon, so would it really hurt to cut out the waiting and just head off to the Hellmouth?

I was just hoping she'd recognize me. I had a terrible sense for demons, especially when they cloaked themselves as humans. It had been a series of flukes that I pushed me into the level of renown I now held. I hadn't meant to-

Steady now. All good angels forgot the unnecessary. And whatever else Michael told them to.

The road back to Hellmouth was treacherous and winding. The blackstone was now rampaged on by cars. I recalled the pattern of their movements just in time to run aside from a particularly fast red one. I knew their name, sure, but most other details were lost on me. They weren't alive, of course, but the foggiest of thoughts I had about their movements- explosions and black liquid and people's feet- made no sense at all.

I must have dreamt this somewhere. By the time I had come to the forest path of Hellmouth- worn out, a complete subversion of the newer state of everything else in this alternate world- I was almost sure I was living a lucid dream. Maybe this was my test after all. Maybe there was no absurd idea of 'peace' getting tossed around. It had surely just been a lie to get me to come out and- and-

Dream? Nothing sounded more sinister. But Michael had to be trusted since, well, he was Michael. He literally was unable to be wrong.

And of course, if I was dreaming, it wouldn't be able to explain the sudden pain I felt as I fell to the ground- nor the cold, metallic sound of a knife meeting the edge of my neck.