Okay, yeah.  It's been a while.  Sorry guys.  Time for a recap (which will be longer than normal because the last chapter was massive--you can skip it if you actually remember what happened): Our heroes went to Mecca, met Prince Alair, and then grabbed a tear in the palace.  The tear brought them to a deserted, burned village which Sean recognized as his own, though they were not on Claris's earth.  Sean had a little episode and went off to Heaven, so the other angels chased after him, leaving Alistair, Necavi and Claris to fend for themselves.  Donovan etc show up, they fight, Claris stupidly summons Moreaetas to heal Alistair and Necavi, which takes everything out of her.  They are saved from certain doom by Lucifer, who chats with them a while before sending them to Heaven, but not in a group.  Claris ends up in a strange white corridor, where she finds Metatron lying on a table in a room full of nasty looking devices.  He says it's nothing and takes her to Cadmiel and Tialiel's apartment, where (for once in his life) an apologetic Sean is waiting.  Cadmiel and Anael bring back Necavi and Alistair, and everyone heads for a teleporter room so they can return to Claris's earth.  Meanwhile, Donovan, Leliel, etc., are staking out Claris's house.

Leliel waited until she and the rest of her comrades had settled comfortably behind Claris’s house before again asking an explanation from Donovan.  She smiled as they crouched as unobtrusively as possible behind the hedges.

“So, Ireul,” Leliel said patiently, “Care to explain why you gave away one of your feathers?”

“Um…” he muttered, pretending to grasp at the long healed wound across his chest. “Urgh…”

“Now you’re insulting my intelligence,” Leliel slapped at his hand.

“It just seemed like a good idea at the time,” he muttered.  On foolish impulse he added, “Since when do I have to explain myself to you, anyway?”

He regretted these words as hurt soured Leliel’s expression.

“Alright then,” she said.

“Lily,” he said.

“Forget it.  You’re right, it’s not my business.”

“That’s not what I meant… I mean… I can’t explain it.  I don’t know why I did it.”

“I’m telling you, I don’t care.”

He shook his head. “Fine.”

Lucius, who was braiding a lock of Leliel’s hair, suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist and whispered excitedly, “Look!  They’re boarding up the windows!  We’ve been seen!”

“Impossible,” said Shateiel.

“Shamshiel, go look at the street,” Leliel said.

Lucius obeyed.

“Everything’s bleeding,” he reported.  “Looks pretty neat.”

“Bleeding?” Leliel followed Lucius out to the street.  He waved his hands in various directions, leading her gaze from cracked, bloodstained windows to a pool of darkening blood crawling up across the black asphalt.  Leliel touched her lips in his disgust.  “What is this?”

Donovan, standing behind her, shut his eyes with a smile.  “I can hear laughter.”

The transporter dropped us off at the end of my street.  Unfortunately, it was the end opposite to my house.

“So my calculations were slightly off,” Cadmiel said. “Walking never hurt anyone.”

“Ugh,” I said, because we were at the bottom of a hill.

“Hey, Claris,” said Alistair. “What time is it here?”

“Um,” I said, twisting my wrist to check my watch. “Three in the afternoon.”

“It’s pretty dark for afternoon…” Alistair gestured to the sky. “Don’t you think?”

I looked up and saw ash gray.  No breeze touched my skin, and as I drew a quick breath I tasted the scent of blood.

“Something is rotten in Denmark,” Sean said, nodding at the house to the left of us.  The first floor windows were cracked and dark.  The front door was wide open, and the front porch dripped with fresh smears of crimson.  To our right, the situation was much the same.  The fountain on the front lawn lay in scattered pieces across the grass, and the screen door had been ripped apart.

Alistair and Necavi drew their swords as weapons appeared in the hands of all the angels save Metatron.  Cadmiel tossed Sean his practice sword.

“Time to test your training, I think,” he said.

“Mom and Dad…and Brandon,” I whispered in horror. “I have to get to my house.”

“Don’t you think we should find out what’s going on first?” Anael said, but I was already running.  Sean caught up to me easily, jogging beside me while I panted in fear and frustration.

“Are you going to run there alone?” he said.

“If I have to,” I breathed.

“You’re crazed with fear, darling,” Sean said. “We haven’t even identified the problem.”

“I s-saw blood,” I answered. “That’s all I need to know.”

But despite all the walking I’d done recently, my legs still lacked the conditioning necessary to not give out after about thirty seconds.  Fishlike, I gasped for air.

“Crap,” I said.

Sean gripped my hand. “Calm down.”

We started walking together.  I tried not to look at the houses around me as we scaled the hill.  I heard spurts of laughter, overlaid with frightened shrieking.  Glass shattered as we passed, and I knew without seeing his face that Cadmiel desperately wanted to do some breaking and entering.  But he insisted that investigation was required before action.

At last my house entered my field of vision.  I dropped Sean’s hand and sprinted towards it, straining to see if the windows were still intact.  I lost my breath at the driveway, struggling to see through my sticky bangs.  The door, as well as every window, was covered with thick slabs of wood.

“Your family is quite resourceful,” Tialiel commented.

We went around back, and found it completely boarded up as well.  I knocked on the wood.

“Mom?  Dad?” I yelled. “Brandon?”

I heard the door open behind the wood, and the board moved aside.

“Claris, honey,” My mom pulled me inside. “We’re under attack by savage demon hordes.”

“Awesome,” Sean said. “Let’s get back out there.”

“Wait a minute,” Cadmiel said. “What do they look like?”

“We haven’t actually seen them,” Brandon said, “We’ve just heard the rest of the neighborhood screaming and stuff.”

“This isn’t right,” Cadmiel muttered. “Alright.  Claris, stay here with your family. Metatron, you stay too.  The rest of us will investigate.”

“But…” I said.

“Don’t worry,” Cadmiel said. “You’ll be safe here.  This is probably just an illusion of Ireul’s, anyway…”

I pressed my fingers against the feather in my pocket.  It wasn’t my safety I was concerned with.

Cadmiel led Sean, Tialiel, and Anael across the street, into one of the dark, broken houses.  They followed the direction of the low cackling, ascending the staircase warily.  The sound brought them to the first room on the second floor.

A girl of fourteen squirmed in a chair, unbound, but still fighting to stand.  She whimpered in despair as laughter from an invisible source echoed off the walls.  The window in front of her cracked slowly, its glass bloodying with each fracture line.

“Is this really Ireul’s work?” Cadmiel said. “I mean, I’ve heard of his skill with illusions, but this seems like a bit much.”

“I agree,” Tialiel said.  He smiled apologetically at the girl and grasped her wrists, pulling her forcefully out of the chair.  She recoiled from him as soon as she regained mobility, scrambling for the bed.  Tialiel stepped aside just as the window shattered, exploding backwards and showering the chair with jagged, bloody shards.

“Definitely not an illusion,” he said.

“Then what’s happening?” Cadmiel said, as blood coated the chair and its wood splintered.

“Everything seems to be bleeding,” Tialiel said softly.  Sean dipped his hand into the sticky pool of red on the seat.  He licked it off his palm.

“Coppery,” he remarked, sucking on his lips.

“Okay, that’s gross,” Cadmiel said.

“Wh-who are you people?” asked the girl, who was shaking as she burrowed her body deeper and deeper into her pillows.

“Nevermind that,” said Cadmiel. “Do you have any idea as to what was holding you to that chair?”

“I…I,” the girl started. “I came out of the bathroom and tripped on the carpet…I fell on the chair.  And suddenly I couldn’t move and it scooted on its own to the window and the window started to break.”

“Where are your parents?” Cadmiel prodded.

“D-dad’s at work,” she said. “Mom went shopping.”

She gasped as her carpet slowly faded from white to dark crimson.

“Make it stop,” she moaned, burying her face in a pillow to escape the escalating scent of decay.

“It’s like everything’s just bleeding to death,” Anael mused, as the girl screamed at blood blossoming on her pillow.  “Except the people.”

“And Claris’s house,” Cadmiel added.

“Wait,” Anael went to the window which was no longer there and leaned out. “The house next to hers is fine, too.  The big white one.”

Sean joined him. “Forget that.  Look at the fucking street.”

The blood was sliding down the street like a viscous river, darkening as it edged closer to Claris’s driveway.

Tialiel wrung his hands and said quietly, “How are we going to stop this?”

As soon as he finished the sentence, the blood began to recede.  The window’s shards returned to the empty frame and reformed as the chair mended itself.  The girl clutched her pillow again as the blood dried up and disappeared.

“It’s just like with the fountain,” said Anael, in the manner of a scientist making a breakthrough.  “But this time there’s conflict.  Like a different reality is trying to assert itself.”

“But why all the blood?” Sean said. “I mean, not that I’m against gratuitous amounts of gore, but…”

Anael tapped his chin. “I think it’s like…cutting.  Like the tears.  The other realities are making cuts in this one, and this cutting is manifesting in an oddly literal fashion…”

His voice dropped to a mumble.  "But then... where was that laughter coming from?"

“Let’s get back to Claris’s house,” Cadmiel said.  He patted the girl on the shoulder reassuringly. “Have a nice day, miss.”

She whimpered.

I gulped down an ice filled glass of Coke, pacing the kitchen as I waited.

Please relax.  Metatron touched my hand lightly.  It will be all right.

“But I saw blood...” I said.  I crunched my ice nervously.  “I liked some of my neighbors.”

Claris. You don’t know for sure that anyone is dead.  It could be an illusion.

“I-it’s not,” I said.

How do you know?

I had to still my thoughts, but I touched Donovan’s feather again as I said, “I just know.”

He did not press the matter, but said, Even if it is not, you still can’t know for sure what is happening.

I reached for another Coke from the small fleet I’d taken from the fridge.

“I think you’ve had enough, ma’am,” my twin brother said, eyeing the cans.

“Sh-shut up,” I said, refilling my cup with ice.

“Well, fine,” he said. “Be that way.  I guess I won’t tell you what I just saw outside, then.

“Brandon,” I said, exasperated.

I’ll have a look.  Metatron walked onto the deck.

“That guy creeps me out,” Brandon said. “And how’s he going to have a look, anyway?  He’s got no eyes.”

He stole one of my Cokes and popped open the can.  I glowered moodily as he took a noisy swig.

Metatron returned.  I can hear four people nearby.

“Frightened neighbors?” Brandon suggested.

Fear muted my growing irritation with my brother.  I had a pretty good idea of who might be hanging around outside my house.  I went to the window and squinted at the rustling hedges.  Dread swelled inside of me, and my senses dulled as perspiration slicked my palms.  Thoughts of the twitching leaves and the implication of what was behind them distracted me, and I dropped the glass in my hand.  It smashed into fragments on the floor, and I gasped and stepped back, crunching shards as I blinked back nervous tears.

“Idiot,” Brandon said, going for the boom.

I tried to focus on sweeping the remains into the dustpan, but my eyes kept running to the trembling bush, as if looking away from it might cause catastrophe.

Why aren’t they moving to attack? Metatron mused.

“You say that like you’re disappointed.” I dumped the collected shards into the trashcan.  My hands were still sweating.

The front door opened a moment later. “Honey, we’re home!” Sean yelled in falsetto.

Metatron gestured to the hedges as Sean and the rest entered the kitchen.

“Visitors?” Sean said.  He strode onto the deck, approached the offending bush, and cut the roots with his sword.

Leliel, Donovan, Lucius and Shateiel scrambled out as leaves and splinters exploded around them.

“Christ, how did you all fit behind there?” Sean pointed to Shateiel with the sword’s tip.  “I mean, you’re huge enough.”

Shateiel shrugged.

“Can I help you with something?” Sean went on.

Donovan knocked away Sean’s blade with his claw and kicked him down, jamming his knee into Sean’s exposed throat.

“You could just die,” he said.  Donovan’s metal claws rang against the edge of Sean’s sword as he blocked a second strike.

“Sean!” I dropped the broom and ran for the deck, but Metatron grabbed my elbow.

He can handle it.

Sean choked under Donovan’s weight, and his arm shook violently as he struggled to continue parrying.

“He’s choking,” I said, wondering why nobody was moving to help.  Even Alistair left his sword in its scabbard.

“That’s what he gets for being impulsive,” Cadmiel said.  Necavi nodded in agreement.

Donovan struck Sean’s sword again, knocking it from Sean’s hands.  He cracked his knuckles and aimed for Sean’s face.  Spitting, Sean caught Donovan’s wrist and dug his nails into the skin, drawing blood.  Shocked by the pain, Donovan reeled only slightly, but enough for Sean to inhale and punch Donovan in the chest.

“Bastard,” Sean coughed, his voice gravelly.  He wiped saliva from his chin.  “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Donovan said, his eyes losing focus.  Sean dropped the sword abruptly, clutching his head.

“Yikes,” Cadmiel said.

I tried to wrench away from Metatron, but he held fast.

Please trust me.

“But, he’s…”

Sean screamed on his knees, his face contorted with some horrible memory.

“It’s almost too easy with you,” Donovan said, his voice soft and numb like his amber eyes. “I almost hate to end it this way.”  He dragged his claws across Sean’s chest. “But not really.”

Blood spurted from the wound, splattering on the grass.  Sean spasmed on the ground, but the illusion held.

“You can give that to your friend Necavi,” Donovan said.

Sean’s fists clenched and unclenched.  He grasped for his sword, though his whole body shook.

“He’s… not… my friend,” Sean growled.  He sliced across Donovan’s legs, and Donovan dodged, though his pants were torn at the knees.  The illusion broke.

“Damn you,” Donovan said.

“Ireul, let’s go,” Leliel said.

“No,” he said. “Not until I’m done.”

“Better listen to your girlfriend,” Sean said.  He brandished his sword.

“As if that pathetic practice sword could hurt me!”  Donovan slammed his claws into the blade, and Sean’s mouth opened as the blade shattered.

“M-Maybe we should get in there,” Alistair said.

Cadmiel shook his head no.

“He’ll be alright,” Tialiel said, and I wondered if Tialiel had actually had a vision.

Sean was struggling to fend off another strike with the hilt of his sword.

Then again, maybe Tialiel just had too much faith.

Donovan leaned in close to Sean’s ear and sneered something too low for my hearing to catch.  It so enraged Sean that he pushed Donovan back, causing him to stumble even as he snickered.

“Okay, Lily,” Donovan said. “Now we can go.”

“What did he say to you?” I asked as I washed Sean’s bloody chest wound.  He hissed through his teeth when I applied the warm compress, squirming uncomfortably but never complaining.

“He said to ask my mother for a new sword,” Sean said.  I wrapped his chest in gauze and didn’t voice my confusion.  Cadmiel, however, had no problem doing so.

“What could he have meant by that?” he said. “Are they holding Samael and Gabriel captive?”

“My mother’s dead,” Sean said.

“Don’t be silly,” Cadmiel said. “We angels are quite durable.”

Sean glared, his way of wanting Cadmiel to elaborate.

“Angels only die when both of their wings are cut off,” Cadmiel explained.  “Even if the body is destroyed, the power for total regeneration remains as long as both wings are intact.”

“I see,” Sean said. “Well, only one way to find out.”

But Tialiel pushed him down as he started rising from the couch.

“You need to let yourself heal,” he said, “or that wound will worsen.  We’re durable, not invincible.”

“Where do you plan to go, anyway?” Cadmiel said.

“A while ago…” Sean said, “I saw a nice sword.  In the strip mall.”

He nodded at me. “Remember?  It wasn't that long ago...”

“Y-yes,” I said.   "I think there’s a shop there now.”

“Like I said,” Sean shrugged, “Only one way to find out.”

He shut eyes. “I think I will have a nap first though.”

I went to the fridge for another Coke.

“Um, I don’t think caffeine is going to settle your nerves, Claris,” Tialiel said. “How about I make tea?”

“You don’t need to do that…” I said.

“No worries,” Tialiel reached into the cabinet and took a tea tin. “Just sit for a minute.”

Sean’s body covered the entire couch and then some, so I plopped down in an armchair.  Cadmiel and the others milled around restlessly.  Alistair sat on the carpet and started polishing the blade of his sword with a terry cloth.  One of my cats rubbed against Necavi’s legs, and he bent down to scratch its chin.

I fidgeted in my chair, feeling tense, nervous.  I knew it was at least partly the caffeine, but I could not escape the sense that something horrible was building.  For the first time I thought this sense was more than just random paranoia.

Anael thumped me lightly on the back. “Breathe, Claris.”

I exhaled.  Tialiel brought me a cup of hot cranberry tea, and I smiled at him gratefully.

“I’m bored,” Alistair announced. “Shouldn’t we go after those guys?  And maybe kill them?”

“We would, but I don’t suppose Orifiel would appreciate us going off without him,” Cadmiel said.

No one wanted to risk waking up Sean.  So they continued to wander around the house, much to the dismay of my family.

“Brandon, are these your friends?” Mom said, eyeing the angels gathered at the kitchen table (Necavi and Alistair had gone upstairs to play video games).

“Uh, no,” he said.  He jabbed his thumb towards me.

“Claris?” Mom said, her irritation growing.  “Why did you ask all these boys over?”

“Er,” I said.  I fumbled for a lie.  “It’s… the…anime club, Mom.  There’s not many girls.”

Brandon, being an excellent liar himself, knew my falsehood immediately.  But he muttered, “Yeah, that would explain their outfits.”

“I wish you’d tell me about these meetings beforehand,” Mom said. “Would you boys like some sandwiches?”

“No, ma’am,” Cadmiel responded quickly. “We’re fine.”

“Let’s go upstairs,” I said.

Evening fell, and Sean continued to sleep.

I went out to the deck and sat on the steps.

“Nice night, huh?” Tialiel said, sitting down beside me. “Lots of stars.”

“Yep,” I agreed. “It still smells like rain, though.”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“Do you know for sure?”

“Eh?” he said. “N-no.”

“Hm,” I said. “How often do you have visions?”

“Not that often…” he said. “My clairvoyance manifests itself differently than you might think.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Tialiel said.  He scratched the backs of his hands, staring at his fingers. “I actually predict people better than events.”

“Uh?”

“I just… I can predict behavioral patterns.  I know what people are going to do.  I guess it’s kind of like extreme empathy,” he looked up at the sky. “Except it seems wrong to say that because it’s why I’m in the army.”

“So…you know how your opponent will fight?” I said.

“Yeah… that’s where it works best,” he was mumbling, chagrined. “Sometimes I do get real visions—visions of future events—but not a lot.  And sometimes, like with the burning village, they’re too abstract to help anything.”

“But,” I said, “if you have that power, why are you still a Lieutenant?  Why haven’t you been promoted?”

He shrugged. “Guess I’m just not cut out for it.”

“Don’t let him lie to you, Claris,” Cadmiel said.  He stood in the doorway, his arms folded over his chest.  “He’s denied the higher ranks countless times.”

Cadmiel walked up behind us. “Hell, he’s killed more people than I have.”

“Cadmiel,” Tialiel said.  He dug his nails into his hands.

“Tia’s a bit conflicted about it,” Cadmiel said.  He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a drag.

Tialiel didn’t say anything.

“Um…” I said.

“I don’t understand why,” Cadmiel said. “It’s an achievement.”

“Death is never an achievement,” Tialiel said.

“Maybe so,” Cadmiel said. “But sometimes it’s necessary.”

“D’you think that’ll happen?” I said, hedging around the word ‘death.’

“It might,” Cadmiel said. “Battles tend to have casualties.”

I didn’t want to entertain that possibility.

“I’m g-gonna go check on Sean,” I said.

I tapped Sean’s chest lightly. “Hey, sleepy.”

“Marn,” Sean waved his arms aimlessly. “Soup.”

“C’mon, you’ve been napping all day,” I said. “The natives are getting restless.”

“Lobsters,” he mumbled, covering his face with his hands. “With butter.”

Necavi tromped down the stairs then, with Alistair on his heels.

“Isn’t there some way to reprogram that game?” Necavi muttered. “Their portrait of me is so unflattering.”

“Ummm, if you collect everyone’s ultimate armor and weapon sets and do all the optional sidequests, there’s a bonus at the end that lets you play from your perspective, Necavi,” I said. “But I’ve never gotten it.”

“What in hell,” Necavi said.

I shrugged.

Alistair frowned at Sean, who had returned to sleep. “He needs to get up.”

Taking the initiative, Alistair pinched a bit of Sean’s bare chest.  Instantly, Sean sat up and punched Alistair in the face.

“Ow!” Alistair cried.

“Sorry about that.  Automatic reaction,” Sean said.  He massaged the red spot on his chest. “Ya prick.”

“Just doing what I had to,” Alistair said.  He leaned back into the kitchen and checked his face in the mirror. “Man, that’s gonna leave a mark.”

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Anael said. “Or evening, rather.”

Ah, you’re awake. Metatron said.  Shall we go, then?

I pressed my nose against the glass of my door. “Hang on… I think Cadmiel and Tialiel are having a tender moment.”

“I’ll get the digital camera,” Sean hopped off the couch.

He snapped a photo of Tialiel leaning on Cadmiel’s shoulder. “Everybody say awww.”

I opened the door, and they both turned quickly.  Cadmiel’s eyes narrowed into murderous slits at the sight of Sean’s camera.

“Good to see you’ve rejoined us, Orifiel!” he snapped. “Ready to do some actual work, my slothful friend?”

“As soon as you’re done snuggling,” Sean retorted.

Tialiel blushed ferociously. “We… weren’t…”

“Do you know where Ireul and them are?” Cadmiel said.

“I never said that,” Sean said. “I just know where I saw something.”

“Eh,” said Cadmiel. “Well, we got nothin’ else.”

“My, Ireul, but you are perceptive,” Leliel answered.  She shook a container of garlic salt over her pot. “Would you get the noodles?”

Donovan dropped a bundle of spaghetti sticks into the pot. “Don’t be mad.”

“Then don’t be frustrating,” Leliel started the stove.

“Me?  Frustrating?”

“Put the bread in the oven, please.”

Donovan slid a sheet of uncooked garlic bread into the convection oven. “Lily.”

“I thought I told you I didn’t like that name.”

Donovan inhaled. “Are you still pissed off about earlier?”

“Certainly not,” Leliel said sarcastically.  She handed him some tomatoes. “Chop these, please.”

He sliced them angrily, glad for the outlet. “Look, Lily, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean to offend.”

“I was asking a perfectly reasonable question,” Leliel said, as she tore apart a head of lettuce.

“I know,” he sighed. “I just can’t give you a good answer.”

“Alright then.”

“Leliel, it’s not that I don’t want to tell you.  It’s that I don’t know.”

She swept up his tomato slices and dropped them into her salad bowl.  She relaxed and said, softly, “Okay.  Go tell Shamshiel that dinner’s almost ready.”

“What’re you, our mother?” he said lightly.

“Not your mother,” she smiled a little.

Donovan grumbled. “Thank God.  Then I’d have to hate you.”

He knocked on Lucius’s door. “Hey, punk.  Food.”

“Yay!” Lucius, sprawled out on his bed, rolled around with glee.

“What are you doing?” Donovan said.

“The happy food wiggle,” Lucius replied.

“I think we need to get you some medication,” Donovan said.

“You’re one to talk,” Shateiel said mildly, as he passed.

“Funny, old man.”

Donovan gripped Lucius’s forearms and dragged him off the bed, so that he smacked the ground on his belly.  “Enough with the wiggling.”

Lucius squealed as he hit the carpet, but got to his feet easily. “You’re right.  Time for the eating.”

Being angels, they lacked the usual need for food.  But it was still necessary to maintain the body, and they liked the taste.  Donovan had to admit that he felt better after eating, especially Leliel’s cooking.

“Can’t wage war on an empty stomach,” Donovan picked up his fork.

“Delicious as usual,” Shateiel said.

“Ireul helped,” Leliel said.

“My,” Shateiel said. “Impressive.”

“I cut tomatoes.”

“As I said.  Impressive.”

“You know,” Leliel said, “I kind of like living down here.”

“Me too,” Lucius said. “Subterranean lairs are so cozy.”

"That's not exactly what I meant..." Leliel said.

“I can’t believe that old ladies’ store bought the space above us though…” Donovan said. “So many useless trinkets.”

“What were you expecting?  A Hot Topic, perhaps?" Leliel gestured to his ripped pants.  "You need to get a new pair."

"Why not?  It's just more fun to make fun of teenagers," Donovan said.

“Are you sure you saw something here?” Cadmiel said warily.

“This place wasn’t here a month ago,” Sean said. “It was just an empty lot.”

The store was closed, but that wasn’t a deterrent.  Anael picked the lock handily.

“Um, that’s kind of illegal…” I said.

“We’re doing it for the good of humanity,” Cadmiel said.

“Somehow I don’t think the police would buy that explanation…”

You don’t have to worry about them. Metatron walked inside first.

“That guy makes me nervous sometimes,” Sean said quietly.

I thought of my brother’s remark.  It was normal for Brandon to react that way, but not Sean.  Thinking about it, Metatron had seemed more serious lately.  Not exactly menacing, but tense.  I put the rising paranoia out of my mind.

We passed rows of haphazardly arranged merchandise, aisle after aisle of dolls, stationery and craft supplies.  Stuffed bunnies with giant button eyes loomed from the top shelves, made macabre in the darkness.  I walked close to Sean.

“If anything’s here, it’s probably in the back,” Cadmiel said. He pushed open a door marked ‘Employees Only.’

It was a small office with a spotted tile floor that had a large, locked ventilation grate in its center.  The door on the left marked a bathroom, and the door on the right marked a utility closet.

“Hm,” Sean said. “Cadmiel, you all check the bathroom.”

I supposed ‘you all’ meant everyone with wings.

“We’ll look at the utility closet.”

“Yes, master,” Cadmiel said.

Alistair kicked open the closet, for effect. “Nothin’ here.  ‘Cept mops and stuff.”

Tialiel emerged from the bathroom. “Nothing.” He wrinkled his nose. “The place needs a cleaning, though.”

“Aw, damn,” Sean said.

“Hang on,” said Necavi.  He touched the grate on the floor. “Does anyone have a light?”

Alistair hit the light switch.

“Hm, still can’t see.”

Metatron knelt beside Necavi.  A sphere of light formed in his hand.

“Yes,” Necavi said. “There’s a platform, I think.”

He broke the lock with his katana, then pulled up and tossed aside the grate.  Gingerly, he lowered a foot into the darkness, relaxing visibly when he touched something solid. “There are steps.”

“Brilliant,” Sean said.

We descended the steps.  My heart beat faster as the light above us faded.  The ceiling seemed to be rising as we went down, and when the stairs ended we found a door carved out of the earth.

“Wow, it’s all Batcave or something,” Sean said.

A long corridor opened up into a wide room at its end.  Surprisingly, this room was a kitchen.

“A kitchen?” Tialiel said. “Are they siphoning power from somewhere?”

“Must be,” Cadmiel said.

Past the kitchen was a dining room, where Donovan, Lucius, Leliel, and Shateiel were seated around a square table, eating bowls of spaghetti and salad.

“Do you mind?” Donovan said, without looking from his bowl, “we’re eating.”

“You!” Sean said, pointing at Donovan. “Explain yourself.”

“You’re the last person I’d explain myself to.”

Leliel stabbed a piece of lettuce and said, “He won’t even explain himself to me.”

“What did you mean about my mother?” Sean demanded.

“Oh, that’s why you’re here..” Donovan left his chair.  He clenched his fist and aimed a punch for Sean’s throat.

Sean caught Donovan’s fist. “You’re not so tough without your claw, you bastard.”

“You don’t think so?” Donovan hissed.  He slammed his other fist into Sean’s stomach.

“Not in the dining room…” Leliel sighed.

Sean stumbled back, but recovered fast enough to strike Donovan’s side as the other man attempted another punch.  Surprised Donovan hit the floor on his knees, flinching. “You little bitch.”

Sean kicked Donovan’s chest and gripped his throat as he fell.  He dug his heel into the lower part of Donovan’s chest.

“Tell me what you meant.”

“B-bite me,” Donovan coughed.

“Get off him,” Leliel said.  She chopped her hand down on Sean’s back, and he lost his grip, allowing Donovan to push him away. “You’re both such children.”

“He’s the one that came in here and attacked us,” Donovan growled.

“And I’m not leaving until I get answers,” Sean said.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to stay forever—“ Donovan said, “as a corpse in the floor!”

“Wait!” Lucius said. “I know what you want!”

He scampered off.

“Lucius!” Donovan ran after him.

“Let us give chase!” Sean cried.

“Can’t let you do that,” Leliel said.  She and Shateiel blocked our way.

I suggest you move.  Metatron stepped forward.

“You brought the Metatron?” Leliel said.  “That’s a bit overkill.”

Metatron raised an open palm. Move.

They exchanged looks, and stepped back.

“How pathetic,” Cadmiel said. “Not even willing to die for your cause.”

“Oh, but we are,” Shateiel. “Dying right now just wouldn’t be prudent.”

Metatron remained there while the rest of us tracked Donovan and Lucius to the farthest room.

Lucius, restrained by Donovan, was reaching for a sword mounted on the wall.  Its silver blade was carved with runes, and its hilt was made of sculpted, spiked ivory and inlaid with jewels.

“That’s a nice sword!” Sean said. “I think I’ll take it.”

He grabbed the hilt and took it from the wall before Donovan could stop him.

“What the…” Sean said.  The sword quivered in his hand, like a tuning fork.

“It likes you,” Lucius grinned.

“I’m gonna give you such a beating,” Donovan squeezed Lucius’s thin wrists.

“What’s with this thing,” Sean cut the air, and the blade glowed white.

“Maybe you can think about it when we’re not here,” Cadmiel said.

“No way,” Sean licked his lips. “I wanna try this out.”

He lunged for Donovan and Lucius.  Donovan clutched Lucius and jumped backwards, throwing Lucius away from him so he could shield the younger boy.

“Damn it,” Donovan said. “I need my claw.”

“Damn right you do!” Sean exclaimed, wide-eyed, his face lit with excitement.  He struck, slicing through Donovan’s right wrist.  Donovan’s hand hit the dirt floor wetly, his disembodied fingers twitching.

“Ohh, man,” I said, as blood poured from the stump  I cringed away from the image of Donovan's torn muscles and exposed marrow.

“Fuck,” Donovan said.

“Time for the other one!” Sean laughed, further excited by the gore.

Leliel arrived then (with Metatron and Shateiel behind her), holding Donovan’s claw.  “Ireul!  Your hand!”

“We can reattach it,” Donovan said, “Claw, please.”

She tossed it to him, and he deflected Sean’s blade.

“S-sean, we need to go…” I said.

“Not until he’s dead,” Sean said.

“Cadmiel,” Tialiel said. “Look at that sword… the blood’s already gone.  Like the blade drank it.”

“Damn it,” Cadmiel said, “That boy has no common sense.  We have to get out of here.”

No problem.  Metatron snapped his fingers.

Sean’s sword slammed into my lawn, upsetting clumps of grass and dirt.

“Why did you do that?!” he said.

“You shouldn’t be swinging a sword you know nothing about,” Cadmiel said. “Put that thing down.”

Sean reluctantly obeyed. “You spoil all my fun.”

Cadmiel held the hilt in his hands. “This hilt is made of bone.”

“I th-thought it was ivory,” I said.

“Me too,” he agreed. “But it’s not ordinary bone.”

The sword began to quiver again, much more violently than before.

“Ouch,” Cadmiel said, dropping the weapon. “What the hell is this sword’s problem?”

Seeing the sword trembling on the grass, I thought of Donovan’s bloody stump.

“Uh, hey, somebody…” I said. “Can they really just reattach Donovan’s hand?”

“Oh, yeah,” Anael said. “He’ll be fine.”

“Why are you worrying about that bastard?” Sean said.

“I’m not worrying,” I said. “It’s just weird, that’s all.”

“Since it’s not destroyed, it can just be put back on,” Anael said. “He’ll probably have an ugly scar, though.”

“This is a great sword,” Alistair said, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand. “Kind of creepy looking, though.”

“I like it,” Sean grinned.

“It is a strange weapon…” Cadmiel said slowly. “But I can’t find anything malicious.”

Sean picked it up again. “Sweet.”

“Sir…they took the sword,” Donovan said.

“Really,” said the cloaked man.  Donovan couldn’t see his expression.  “Nice work, Ireul.”

Donovan touched the stained bandages wrapped around his right arm.  He squeezed his wrist, but his fingers still weren’t responding.  A few drops of blood hit the floor. “Yeah.”

He turned to go, and the cloaked man smiled.

Kind of a short chapter, but it was meant to be--I'm just sorry it took me so long to write it.  I think I underestimated college's ability to completely suck up my free time.  Anyway, some important things did happen.  Any thoughts? Email me or post.  And I hope it won't take as long to get the next chapter out (summer is soon, even though I'll have to get a job etc. this year to help pay for college...but at least jobs don't usually have massive amounts of homework). -_-;;

Thanks to everyone who's still reading; you don't know how much I appreciate it.