Raphael granting Lucifer sanctuary and giving him a castle and land where he could rule makes me feel more at ease. At least the greatest threat of my existence isn’t near my border anymore. I drop from a high altitude.
After the overnight rain, the forest smells wonderful this morning. I should hear birds’ joyful singing, and when I don’t, I descend closer to the ground. A pair of Fleet males appears above me and keeps flying as if I need their protection over the skies of my own territory. I’ll take this up with my brother Michael and not his angels. They obey his orders, and since they’ve never followed me before, I presume Michael issued tighter protection of me, or perhaps he just likes to keep an eye on me. Michael is a…unique being, a class of archangel unto himself.
Flying over Outpost Nine, the closest to the House of Virtue, makes me uneasy, and my power detects feelings I should investigate. Court of Command soldiers often reflect to me as determined, courageous mortals who train hard and fight even harder. Unease isn’t a feeling I get often from this many of them.
I pivot, readying to descend between the trees. Pulling my wings in tightly, I crack my neck a bit, working out the tension I feel from their ranks. They’re projecting loudly, and I allow myself to feel what they feel as a collective. It’s making my neck muscles tighten, and discomfort coats my emotional receptors.
“Your Highness,” one of the fleet males calls out to me, but I ignore him, sensing their surprise and a bit of anger as I drop swiftly and land at the edge of the Outpost, right on the sand and just before the forest. The stretch of sand appears endless to the mortal eye, but in fact, the Veil barrier is not half a mile behind me.
The fleet angels hover above me as I dust off my robe. The heat from the desert sun warms my bare feet. I walk over the sand, enjoying the way it seeps between my toes. Ah, the Earthly delights. So much to experience in this realm. Smiling, I arrive at the wet forest floor, where the soldiers in camouflage hiding in the trees and thick green bushes don’t greet me. They guard the Veil in the same way Michael guards his feelings, ruthlessly and with single-minded purpose.
The soldiers can’t be bothered with little ol’ me arriving when greeting me isn’t a part of their duty. Distractions such as my visit won’t sway them from watching the desert landscape night and day, and although a bit of their unease about my visit is normal, as a collective, their amplified feelings register as anxiety, which makes me curious.
I pause to sort through their individual feelings to find a pattern. They’re…distracted. Unlike my soul’s mate, who gets distracted every time she sees any part of my body below the neck, these trained men and women shouldn’t come across as anxiety-ridden absentminded mortals. In her case, distractions are welcome. In their case, unwelcome.
The hot desert wind sweeps through the forest, ruffling my feathers and pattering them with sand. I shake my wings. The sand lands on the ground where there is normally just forest moisture. I bend and scoop up some sand, sifting it though my fingers and finding dead insects. I drop the sand and wipe my hands on my robe, walking deeper into the forest and arriving at Outpost Nine’s campground.
At this time of day, most soldiers are on duty, leaving behind their tents and a cook. I approach the soldier with a ladle in her hand.
Unhappy to see me, she narrows her dark brown eyes at me as she smiles. “Your Highness. What a pleasure.”
“Min-Lee.” I dip my head. “The pleasure is all mine.”
Red colors her pale cheeks. Anxiety rolls over her in waves, and because I trust my power and instinct, I reach inside my pocket and take out a few coins from the Veil. I place them on the table. Min-Lee drops her ladle and looks around before pocketing them.
Fairly certain my brother Lucifer plagues her dreams, I’m taking advantage of that. While I follow the virtuous path, I was not all virtuous, not all sinless, and definitely not the all mighty, and especially not this close to the Veil where Lucifer’s influence runs rampant across the weakened barrier.
“What do you need?” she asks, returning to mix the awful smelling—and likely awful tasting—stew my brother made his soldiers eat. Protein, he claimed. Torture, I thought.
“A bit of information.”
She jerks her head to the left. “Sergeant Gunman is in his tent.”
“A cook’s perspective will do me good.”
Min-Lee smiles. “You want to know about the sightings?”
“I want to know about the mortal soldiers on the ground here.” I push my power into her, making her feel like I’m trustworthy and she can confide in me.
The cook responds by leaning in conspiratorially as if we’re the best of friends and she’s going to impart her secrets to me. “Nightmares plague the camp. Like a disease.” She bites her lip, conscious she shouldn’t have told me this. Her guilt registers, but she can’t help it because I am trustworthy and her best friend. She can tell me anything. I stroke her with a feeling of belonging. Mortals love to feel like they belong somewhere, anywhere. She belongs with me, here and now.
“Don’t feel bad, Min-Lee. You did their families and the realm a favor. In the long run, you’ve just saved many lives. Is there anything else you want to tell me?”
Basking in my power, she nods, reaching for me to stroke my hand. I let her.
“The unit doesn’t sleep much anymore, and some soldiers don’t leave their beds either. They don’t dare. The fleet patrols at night have doubled. We’re scared of being uncovered.”
“Has the Fleet started executing some of you?”
She nods, her fear banging against my sensory walls, screaming for me to open up and turn the fear around, make her feel fearless and bold again. I brush off her fear so it doesn’t seep into me. I have no fear and won’t adopt her emotions as mine. Fear would jeopardize my purpose in this realm.
“I’m afraid I’m next.” Min-Lee’s eyes fill with tears. “It’s only a matter of time.”
I send her some comfort, soothe her with it when I can’t soothe her with lies. Once the marking process starts, it really is a disease, spreading through communities like wildfire. The problem is that these are Michael’s ranks, the soldiers, the toughest mortals in the realm, trained to withstand Lucifer’s mental advances. If he can mark the soldiers, he can mark most mortals in the realm, including Amelia, my soul’s mate.
Feeling better, she inhales, then tilts her head back as I bathe her in the comfort of thousands of feathers. She’s flying in happyland now. “Grave digging leaves everyone demoralized.”
“Thank you. Tell me about the summer winds. Have they reached the camp yet?”
“I hear they’re coming into the outskirts more often now with the Veil weakening. Will the Veil fall?”
“No,” I lie.
She nods. “Good. I like hearing that.”
Her eyes roll back in her head, and I withdraw my power so she can gain access to her rational brain again, though not too much. I’m still her trusted best friend.
“Sergeant Gunman,” I prompt. “What’s he doing today?”
“Strategizing.”
“What exactly?”
“Next flash, they think Lucifer’s army will spill out of the Veil.” Lucifer has been poking holes in the barrier, and when he succeeds, it leaves a crack, which I now know mortals report as a flash. My power fixes the crack, but not as quickly as it could before. Holding the Veil has become more labor intensive for me.