Elias

Once the light faded, Harold insisted they return to the house and wait there. Three hours later, they were still waiting. He and Abigail were now in the kitchen, banging about dishes and chopping boards as they talked.

Elias, in the meanwhile, paced the length of Harold's living room, trying to ignore the prickling in his fingers and miniature lightning bolts flashing across his vision whenever he turned his head. Elias suspected Harold rarely ventured into this room. It was a shadowy, musty space in need of a good dusting and better light bulbs, but the ornate oak furniture and the oil paintings on the walls made clear that Harold belonged to a different social class to the Fitzpatricks.

"Sit down, Elias," said Ramiel.

The words stank of hypocrisy. Since they had come back inside, Ramiel had done little besides trundling up and down the hallway between the front of the house and the terrace. His clothes were stained with sweat and his skin had taken on a greyish tint. Elias had told him to lie down while they waited, but Ramiel had pretended he hadn't heard.

Elias glanced at the couches and shook his head. The couches were probably antique — not actually intended for sitting in. "Where are those friends of yours? I want to get out of here ASAP."

"Why? Harold and Abigail are preparing dinner for you as much as for themselves." Ramiel's eyes narrowed. "Did you have a vision?"

"Not today, but my head hurts plenty anyway," replied Elias. "Using my powers and headaches seem to go in tandem these days."

"You are not used to exerting your powers in any significant way. With practice, the headaches will be reduced."

I'm not sure I can stomach many more practice sessions.

Elias ran a hand through his hair. "Christ, I can't look at these hideous portraits anymore. I'm going out to the terrace."

Ramiel allowed Elias to move past, then followed him down the hallway to the back of the house. The lights and the heaters were now extinguished. Elias guessed there was a proper dining room tucked away somewhere and they would be eating there. Ramiel shuffled over to the glass wall and seemed to peer out to the huddle of willows that grew between the house and the river.

"Will you be glad to return to Heaven?" Elias asked.

Ramiel's hand trailed over the leaves of one of the basil bushes growing in the room. "My time with your sister and yourself was more pleasant than I had anticipated. Much has changed since I had last spent time among mankind. I am glad to have had this opportunity, but this is not where I belong."

"That angel sounded like he'd have preferred you were stuck down here forever."

"Giorgio never could keep his thoughts to himself," Ramiel replied. "He is a common reaper, nothing more. Whatever he says and whatever complaints he makes, he will do as he was ordered."

"So he's a reaper like Najran was? He wasn't a big fan of you either."

"Reapers are a vocal sort. They spend too much time around humans; the insolence has rubbed off."

"Or perhaps it's your presence that offends us," said Giorgio.

As he folded his wings, another figure appeared beside him. The second angel landed with a thud and doubled over as if he was too unbalanced to stay upright. Giorgio helped his companion right himself.

Ramiel's eyes widened. "Raphael?"

This angel was an equal to Ramiel, Elias was sure of it. He too sported three pairs of wings, though his, as far as Elias saw in the brief moment before Raphael folded them, were entirely white like the feathers had been dunked into a tub of bleach. He stood eye to eye with Ramiel and there was even a resemblance in their facial features. Had they been human, Elias would have guessed they were at least cousins, if not full-blood brothers.

"Were you expecting someone else?" Raphael replied. Even his voice sounded like Ramiel's.

The two angels differed in one thing, however. Throughout the time Elias had known him, Ramiel had made an effort to appear in modern clothing, but Raphael made no pretences. He wore only a pair of loose light ochre coloured trousers and his long hair was gathered in a single thick braid that reached as far as the base of his back — hardly a style many of Elias' contemporaries would adopt.

"I was."

"Michael is occupied with the assault."

The line of Ramiel's shoulders relaxed. "I see."

Are these Michael and Raphael from the Bible?

Elias tried not to gape as Raphael undid the buttons of Ramiel's shirt and cocked his head as he revealed the bandages.

"Giorgio," said Raphael, "find the owner of this household and inform him that we will require the use of a bedroom for a short time. Assure him there will be no damage to his property. Watch him and the woman while I work."

"Yes, my lord," Giorgio said, turning on his heel. There was no trace of the unmissable disrespect in Giorgio's tone whenever he had addressed Ramiel by the same honorific.

"This nephilim too." Raphael gestured towards Elias. "There's no need for him to be here."

Ramiel's voice was emotionless, but authoritative. "No. Elias is studying the healing arts. He will want to witness you work."

Elias had thought Ramiel had looked atrocious before, now he realised that Ramiel had been keeping himself upright through sheer force of will. At the sight of a fellow angel, the last of Ramiel's strength seemed to dissipate. After two steps, he began to stumble. Raphael quickly steadied him and guided Ramiel to what looked like a spare bedroom. Elias, in the meanwhile, picked up the first aid kit, which he had brought out from the car as a precaution for the ritual and trailed behind the two angels in silence.

"You are quiet," said Ramiel as Raphael helped him take off his shirt. "Is my condition that poor?"

Elias took a pair of scissors out of the first aid kit. Whatever method Raphael would be using to heal Ramiel, Elias guessed that he would first need to expose and evaluate the wounds.

Raphael accepted the implement with a taciturn nod. "If you are after a running commentary, I can ask Giorgio to return."

Ramiel laughed and a trace of a smile flitted on Raphael's face. Recomposing himself, Raphael beckoned Elias towards him and pointed to a spot from where Elias could see the angel's hands without disrupting him. The room was quiet as Raphael cut through Elias' masterwork and carefully peeled off the various bandages. Soon, they littered the floor.

"How goes the assault?" Ramiel said when Raphael set down the scissors.

"It is as bloody and futile as always. Do you intend to explain what happened here, Ramiel?"

Ramiel sighed and pulled himself up until he was at eye-level with the other angel. "I can show you."

"No, you are exhausted as it is."

"Very well. We found the site of the second anchor, but I made an error and drew the enemy to it. A reaper, Najran, has switched sides. He coerced me into disabling the warding. I tried to dawdle as much as I could, while I waited for a moment to counter-attack, but I could not fool him by writing nonsense. When the moment came, we fought and he pushed me into the heart of the anchor. The power of it was shattering; I am amazed the burns are not worse."

"What error are you referring to?"

Elias bit his lip. Raphael's tone had sharpened. He sounded less like a doctor treating a patient and more like an officer debriefing a soldier. Ramiel, however, didn't seem surprised by Raphael's bedside manner.

"I tripped a tracing ward and did not notice."

"A stupid oversight and a costly one," Raphael said. He placed two fingers on the edge of one of the smaller burns, a moment later a spiderweb of clean skin began to spread from beneath his fingers. "I do not know how much of Sariel's warding you dismantled, but between that and thrusting your body into the fulcrum of the anchor, you destabilised it. The weakening was gradual until two days ago, when it degraded sharply."

Elias let the conversation wash over him. He was fixed on the tendril of unblemished skin taking root under Raphael's fingers. The angel shifted his hand, tracing the edges of the burns until they were gone and only tender pink skin remained. Elias had seen similar wounds on humans and the limitations of modern hospital treatment. This might just be the most amazing thing he had ever seen.

Ramiel's rueful tone snapped Elias out of his revelry. "So the anchor has collapsed." After a pause, he added, "Yet the shield remains intact?"

Shit. Did Ramiel suspect the anchor was so badly damaged? He had never given any indication to Elias that something might have gone wrong with the anchor itself.

"The shield now rests at perhaps half of its former strength," Raphael replied. "At least three anchors must remain, otherwise, the shield would have collapsed completely. Have you given thought to their potential locations?"

Ramiel shook his head. "Not necessarily. The shield is a very intricate design. Each anchor is a powerful ward in its own right and is woven into this larger ward. The destruction of one does not directly impact the others, which is why the shield has not fallen. I think there may only be one anchor more."

"Why?" Elias asked.

"You have seen them for yourself, Elias. Each anchor is powered by a pair of Sariel's wings. Thus three anchors in all; our wings do not regrow."

Raphael's hand faltered. He drew back and stared at Ramiel. "That cannot be." Receiving no reply from Ramiel, he sighed. "If you do not jest, I am sorry. I know Sariel meant —"

"Don't start on that," Ramiel snapped.

Elias flinched. He had witnessed enough family arguments, and participated in more than a few of them himself, to recognise when someone had crossed that unspoken, invisible line known only to the people who have spent too many years tolerating each other's personal demons. Ramiel's face twisted into a mask of anger and his shoulders were rigid.

"I did not...ah, forget it," said Raphael softly. "Will you lie down? I need a better view of the gash on your side."

Ramiel did as asked, but his body remained tense and Elias could almost hear the angel grit his teeth. Raphael turned to Elias.

"Fine work with the sutures. I will need your assistance in removing them, if you would so oblige. Have you the required implements?"

Elias dug through the bottom compartment of the first aid kit until he found a smaller pair of scissors and the needle driver. This wasn't quite the full suture kit he would have had at a hospital, but it was better than using normal scissors. He knew the angels would consider it unnecessary, but he disinfected the instruments nevertheless. Raphael, meanwhile, had healed the skin around the sutures.

"Come, Elias," he said. "We will work thus — you will remove a stitch, I will finish repairing the tissue in that area, then we will move onto the next stitch. Ramiel, please do attempt to relax."

Elias cut the first stitch and pulled it out with the needle driver. A small amount of blood welled from the wound. Raphael reached into the first aid kit for gauze and wiped off the blood, then ran his thumb over the area. The skin knotted. On Raphael's urging, Elias proceeded with the second stitch. Soon they fell into a rhythm, working without exchanging a word.

"Thank you," Ramiel said when they finished.

He ran his hand over his torso and forced a smile. Where only minutes ago had been charred and bubbled flesh was healthy skin. It was shades paler and in places, outright pink like human skin was after a recent wound. Elias suspected Ramiel's skin wouldn't remain so for long.

"And how are your wings?" Raphael asked.

"Minor damage only," Ramiel replied. His face now had a healthy colour to it and when he climbed off the creaky four-poster, he no longer moved like an arthritic invalid. "I believe I have strength now enough for the flight back."

"What energy you feel comes from my hands. Sariel's warding all but tore your core apart. Even in Heaven you will need time to fully recover."

Ramiel sighed and flicked the end of Raphael's braid. "Shall I wait then until attempting a return journey?"

Elias was ready to interject and say that he would be happy if Ramiel were to stay for some days longer. Likely Raphael would remain close, so Elias would have more chances to observe the angel's work.

Raphael, however, pulled his braid out of Ramiel's reach and said, "Certainly not, but you may well feel worse by the time our journey is done than you did an hour ago."

"I will be fine. I am in your care, am I not?"

"I will be at your side as long as you need me," Raphael replied. "You ought to bid the nephilim farewell before we depart."