Annihilation, p.22
Annihilation, page 22
"That's—" Michael swal owed. "Why did you do that?"
Remiel shrugged.
"Did it hurt?"
"Not enough." Her eyes glistened. She raised a hand to her hair, brushing it aside to reveal three piercings in one ear.
Michael took a step back. "Remiel, are you sure—?"
She looked at the circlet on her abdomen. "I lost al the ones I had when I became Camael, and I needed them back." She flashed a hand mirror to herself and angled it for a better view of the navel ring, then up again so she could look at her ear, then at the other (three more on that side.) She avoided looking at her face, only at the pretty titanium rings that glinted around the red sore spots.
Michael took a step closer. "So the water on your stomach…?"
"Supposed to prevent infection."
"I have an easier way to prevent infection." He sat on the edge of the bed. "You're an angel. If you switch back to your angelic form, you can't get one."
"But I can't, not right now." Remiel started to put down the mirror until she caught a glimpse of her face as it passed by. A dul ache in her chest. She tilted it again so she saw only her eyes and her hair, could see him just as he was back then, back when they could no more be separated than the
heat and light in a fire.
Michael sounded as if he ached too. "Was being Camael that bad?"
"I— I wasn't doing it because of Camael." Remiel rol ed onto her stomach and felt the twinge where the ring rubbed against the bed. She crossed her arms and laid down her head, keeping the ear protected in the hol ow by the crook of her arm.
"Tel me." Michael's weight made the mattress shift. "Why don't you just want to heal up?"
"Because I've got to go back." Remiel closed her eyes and traced circles on the blanket. "The piercer tried to talk me into a rook, but I told him no.
Not tonight. I'l go back for it when he's ready. But if I do that and I'm al healed up, he'l know something isn't right."
Michael stroked the back of her hair. "What's a rook?"
Remiel raised one hand. "It's a piercing here, through the triangle part of the ear where it's thick. He wanted me to get a rook orbital."
"Orbital being a ring rather than a stud?"
"No, no, you never want to pierce with a stud." Remiel propped herself on one elbow. "The rings are cal ed captive bead rings. They're the best for early piercings because they can be turned. If you twist a stud you can get infected."
"You did your research." Michael didn't seem horrified any longer.
"You don't want a piercing done with a gun. They're not sanitary because they can't be sterilized. They put their nice, sterile earrings into an unsanitary gun, and it undoes the whole thing, although they pretend to work magic with an alcohol swab. I've kil ed hepatitis and AIDS viruses on
piercing guns."
Michael flinched. "But with a ring, what's different?"
"A piercer uses a bigger gauge needle than the ring, and the needle has been heat-sterilized in an autoclave." She blinked, then tried to sit up.
Michael helped her. "Thanks. Anyhow, since the hole is bigger, it gives you room for swel ing, and it heals better."
Michael said, "Do al the piercings have names?"
Remiel pointed to them in order traveling up her ear. "Lobe. Conch. Helix. The helix is a cartilage piercing."
Michael said, "And the orbital thing, then?"
"Orbitals are paral el to the plane of your head. They don't dangle."
Michael grimaced. "So he'l pierce you twice to put in the ring. Why would you go back for that?"
Remiel blinked unsteadily. "I asked around to find who would be the best piercer, you know? I can go anywhere in the world, so it might as wel be the best. I got online at an internet café and asked in a piercing chat room, and someone recommended this guy, and God told me to go to him."
Remiel took Michael's hand. "I don't know, maybe it's stupid. I could make fifty piercings on my body right now if I wanted, just by thinking about it, but what I wanted—somebody solid. Something that reached inside."
Michael squeezed her fingers.
"Anyhow, I told him what I wanted, and he tried to talk me into only doing two, but I'm pretty stubborn. And he—" She rubbed her eyes. "I asked how he got trained, and he told me about studying piercing. At the mal they just use the earring gun on a teddy bear. But he had to learn how the body works, where the nerves are and everything."
Michael put his arm over her shoulder. She rested her head against him, flinched, and then found a place where her ear didn't throb and the rings
didn't get pressed.
"In between one ear and the other, he told me how awesome the body is, and how the nerves work, and I don't know, I asked if he knew why it was, and he said he was never sure, and I told him I was. While he did the navel ring, we talked about God, and he wanted to do the rook, but I think he just wanted to keep talking."
Michael closed his eyes. "And that's why you're going back to talk to him again."
"We prayed together." When she concentrated, she could stil feel herself focusing the fledgling prayer and laying it at the feet of God even as she sat on the chair touching her newly pierced ears. "I told him where to read, and he looked so excited. So I want to go back later, just to lock him in, yeah."
Michael stroked Remiel's hair. "You did a lot of good for him. It sounds as if he was ready. He just needed a push."
Remiel ran her hands over her eyes. Michael felt so strong at her side, and she couldn't help but be aware of herself: dirty, smoky, inebriated,
indecent, wretched and shameful. Pierced seven times.
Michael squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry I thought badly of you."
Remiel murmured, "You didn't think anything worse than I did."
He bowed his head.
Now was the time. "I need to see Gabriel."
"You can't." Stil looking at his lap, Michael shook his head. "He's too fragile. It's like your piercings. Would it be smart to touch them with unwashed hands right now? Aren't you going to keep them protected until they heal?"
Remiel bit her lip. "I suppose. But I'm not that dirty, am I?"
"He's raw." Michael massaged her shoulders. "Uriel wants as few visitors as possible. Even Raphael got thrown out."
Remiel's eyes bugged.
"So no, no visitors."
She let out a long breath. "I just want to forget that it was al my fault. I can do that if I apologize to him. I didn't want to hurt him. I never intended to."
"He knows you would never hurt him."
"But I did!"
"It wasn't intentional." Michael continued rubbing her shoulders. "But if you think you unintentional y hurt him before, don't you see it's possible to unintentional y hurt him now? And not just you. That's why everyone has to stay away."
Remiel huddled over herself. Final y she said, "You'l let me in first when it's time?"
Michael patted her. "If you can push Raphael out of the way, be my guest."
Remiel laid down again, and Michael helped her find a way that she wasn't uncomfortable. She blinked off the lights so he would leave, but then
Remiel didn't try to sleep.
~~~
Uriel startled when the Cherub Ophaniel walked into the bungalow as if there were no Guard.
Even as Uriel tried to work up the outrage to force him out again, Gabriel's eyes flashed even brighter than his surprised smile. Good news! I
discovered what Satan was trying to do!
Ophaniel laughed, touched his wing tips to Gabriel's hands, and settled onto a chair.
This was ridiculous. Uriel stood, arms folded.
Ophaniel turned to the Throne. "I figured there had to be a way through the Guard, so I found it."
Gabriel cocked his head, and Ophaniel nodded to him as if Uriel weren't even there. "Now that you're repaired, I can't mingle your substance and mine, so I asked Michael to let me into another place he'd Guarded. He isn't paranoid enough to Guard everything separately, so he gave me
permission, and I came here instead."
Gabriel tried to sit up, then battled a moment's vertigo and confusion. Ophaniel grabbed his hands while Gabriel rode it out. "You're with me. No worries. You're among friends."
Gabriel smiled rueful y. Then he brightened again.
"Yeah, it did work. I doubt we'd see the same success against our enemies, to be honest, although there's always the possibility of exploiting a similar weakness—"
By now Uriel had returned to the corner, and the Cherubim continued talking—or rather, Ophaniel spoke and Gabriel participated nonverbal y.
Ophaniel jumped right into questions about the repair process, and Gabriel batted them back as other questions, a tactic that rapidly established a debate between the Cherubim. Uriel in the corner produced some sheet music and continued to play the mandolin.
Half an hour later, Uriel looked up to find Gabriel a paler grey than usual but stil engrossed in a discussion of what the wil was and if the wil was a
part of angelic substance like the soul and how did one define substance in the first place. Ophaniel started by attempting to define the wil , only Gabriel must have refuted that because immediately he determined a second definition, and then they moved on to defining substance and soul.
It was when Gabriel protested that Ophaniel's system of definitions was recursive that Uriel realized the increasing degree of complexity Gabriel
was able to project. Whether he hadn't needed to before or hadn't wanted to—or simply hadn't the opportunity—he'd kept everything simple:
requests, statements, questions. Up until this moment, the idea of forcing a convalescent to tackle metaphysics at the Cherub level would have
seemed like cruelty.
Al the same, Gabriel was flagging. Uriel sent a warning to Ophaniel, who missed that and two others before he noticed how tired Gabriel seemed.
He apologized even as Gabriel insisted he continue.
"I real y came by to give you this." Ophaniel handed an envelope to Gabriel, and then Uriel flashed them to the next room.
"Please don't do that again." Uriel frowned. "If you carried any latent Seraph fire—"
"I made certain I didn't." Ophaniel inserted his hands in his pockets. "I knew what I was doing. Raphael explained about the energy, but I wanted to see him myself." He added, "By the way, about his aphonia, I meant to try him reciting something he's memorized. That wil determine whether the impediment lies in the apparatus or in the wiring."
Uriel's eyes darkened to indigo.
"I'm not gawking." Ophaniel cocked his head. "He's my friend."
"Half of Heaven would say the same thing to get in here."
"And I knew what I was doing. He doesn't look the way I expected." Ophaniel bit his lip. "When Raphael pul ed him out of Hel , he was a mess."
Uriel touched his shoulder, and Ophaniel's wings drooped.
Uriel said, "I want you to tel Michael how you circumvented his Guard."
Ophaniel's wings spread. "Absolutely! I'd hoped we could devise a more stringent means of securing an area anyway, one requiring less
concentrated effort with a greater reliability compared to—"
Uriel's eyes glimmered, and then Ophaniel was flashed away.
It would be approximately two minutes until Michael began wishing Uriel hadn't done that: fit repayment for a permeated Guard.
Uriel checked with Mary that everything was al right with her ("Polenta is nearly done!") and then returned to Gabriel.
Remiel was sitting on the bed, holding Gabriel's hand.
A shudder of frustration surged through the Throne. "He's sick!" Uriel pushed her out of the room and far away. "Spread the word—leave him alone!"
Then Uriel turned toward Gabriel, eyes wide with concern. Gabriel looked uneasy, a little shocked, but otherwise unharmed. Uriel couldn't detect
any signature of Remiel in the atmosphere, so it was possible she hadn't been emanating any power.
Uriel looked out the window. This was no good. Either Michael was distracted or he'd put up the world's shoddiest Guard, to have two breaks in an hour.
Pointedly from Gabriel: What was wrong with Remiel?
Uriel leaned on the windowsil , forehead pressed against the glass.
Again the question from Gabriel, stronger.
"She went into Hel to get you out."
The sunlight filtered in so strong, so direct, keeping warm the already sweltering room. The slanted rays il uminated the tiny shadows of the floor, the natural variations in color.
Surprised denial from Gabriel.
"She went in as Camael. She didn't think twice."
A rustle softly behind him. Gabriel had his wings up about himself, tips crossed in front of his lap.
Uriel listened to nature outside, to birds in their relaxed cal s, crickets singing with their legs, plants silent by themselves and so rustling against one another to proclaim the greatness of the Lord. There was nothing more to say to Gabriel: the Cherub was fitting the pieces together just fine in his mind.
A moment later, grief.
Uriel turned to Gabriel, stil enclosed in his own wings. Remiel had done it because she loved him, because of her own sense of justice, because
she knew from serving with Michael that the thing to do was the right thing, at once. Her impulses, her love, and ultimately everything she was.
From Gabriel: admiration.
Uriel agreed.
Another rustle of wings. Uriel felt Gabriel brace himself, look at the Vision, and then lie down on his stomach.
Gabriel's thoughts turned to how stable Remiel was, if she had been able to slip so easily through a Guard.
Uriel squinted. No reported problems had reached here.
Relief sloughed off Gabriel, more than Uriel expected. A cocked head and a frown.
Gabriel clenched his fists: Remiel knew how to unlace a soul.
Uriel protested.
But if she'd posed as Camael, then she'd been there when Satan unlaced Gabriel. In fact, Uriel felt Gabriel clarify, Satan had channeled his power
through her as a focus. Of course she knew. She just hadn't mentioned it.
Uriel's lips pursed. Too many individuals knew how to do the forbidden. How long until it became common knowledge? How many more angels
would they need to repair? How many would they lose?
But Gabriel's eyes had closed, and Uriel's gaze returned to the greenery.
Just then Uriel remembered Ophaniel's question about reciting. "Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments."
Gabriel murmured, almost asleep, "Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds."
Problems with the wiring, Ophaniel had said. Not with the apparatus.
Uriel's eyes closed in prayer.
~~~
Mephistopheles had a minor demon chained in the ice fields, and he played with its heartstrings. Nothing much. He practiced al the work he'd done
before, verifying that he stil could reach in the same way, grab this, unhook that, tighten that other thing. He noted the things the demon screamed and tried to determine what part he had touched based on what it said. It might be interesting at some point in the future to chain two minor demons side by side and transfer material from one to the other. Assuming he could by that means graft two together, he could potential y forge a few super-strong angels. The minor demons could be so useless at times: the hel fire burned away al their rational thought and left them as unreasoning as
cornered animals. Maybe combining them would give them a boost out of savagery, since objectively they couldn't hurt more than one hundred
percent.
To give Lucifer the answer he wanted, Mephistopheles should find a single vulnerable point, a focus in the soul where the power converged, and
then surgical y remove just that spot. Destroy a locus like that and you might wel be able to make an angel fal apart in its tracks, much like
removing a monkey's spine without touching the rest of him. To locate such a pressure point, Mephistopheles could infiltrate a minor demon with
power from various points on the heartstring simultaneously and note the flow pattern.
Easy enough. Why didn't he do it?
Putting together two minor demons, though—that might be interesting.
Behind him Mephistopheles felt Belior, so he released the minor demon's heartstrings and turned.
The other Cherub wore black armor. "I have a message for you."
