An Arrow In Flight (Seven Archangels Book 1) by Jane Lebak

Author:Jane Lebak [Lebak, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Philangelus Press
Published: 2014-11-19T05:00:00+00:00

Kislev 4

God, my Father, I'm sorry about what happened last night.

I need your help. I don't know what to do. I know what I should be doing, but I know I'm not doing it, not doing it right, and last night I gave him one hundred percent of everything he expected to get out of me.

I wasn't prepared for him to show up that way. I figured there'd be a preamble, a "Hello" when I could turn and tell him to leave, but when he announced his presence by reciting epic poetry, I found myself intoxicated by his voice, his cadence, and the fact that the poem really was splendidly written in a language I hadn't heard for months—and then just when I gathered myself to interrupt him, the way he pre-empted me and said, "Isn't it dynamic how the writer sets up truth and beauty as diametric opposites?" and instead of saying, "Go away," I replied with, "The writer is setting them up as tropes, not opposites," and suddenly we were off. How long did we argue about metaphor, poetic structure, synecdoche, whether specific lines had been written with a certain symmetry to aid in oral translation of the poem from one poet to the next, and on and on…? And then he produced three competing versions of the same poem and spread them out, side by side by side, and he and I were side by side, poring over the different lines, pointing out where there were alterations and where some phrases were inexplicably the same through all the versions. It was like an intellectual orgasm.

I can't think of anything more dangerous to me: an unbonded Cherub and an unbonded Seraph alone in the middle of the night with only a huge debate between us. And in the thick of it he said, "Are we going to argue like this when you're my co-regent?" and I didn't even pause, I just shot back with, "Only if you want to do things right," and he laughed out loud, and I laughed with him.

By that point things had gone too far—he started asking questions and I engaged with them. What did you do? / Something stupid. / Is it forever? / No, just for a while. / Are you mad at Him? More and more personal, more detailed. It was only when he asked about Raphael that I stopped cold, because I could see Raphael's eyes in my mind and I knew if he were here, he'd have driven off Satan and then turned next on me: outraged, disbelieving, injured. I held that in my mind, and Satan changed the subject, but for a moment there, he had me completely. He got everything he tried to.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry, and I don't know what to do. I can't even run away—he's going to find me. No matter where I go, what form I take, he's going to find me. Please stop him from coming back. Please give me the presence

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