Apocalypse Rising, The Knight of Pentacles

Part One Caeli – the realm between Heaven and Earth Mikhail grimaced at the images in the cloudy mirror. Andrew Blackwell. The young man wasn’t quite what Mikhail had hoped to find. Then again, after the last world war nearly wiped

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humanity off the map, there wasn’t much left of belief and hope. Society struggled on, people merely surviving. Mikhail grunted as he observed the young man’s life in flashes -- the death of Andrew’s parents; the emotionless trysts with nameless men; the casual, almost routine, sidestep to avoid the baglady he passed every day. This was their savior? "Why me?" Mikhail grumbled. "Aside from a direct order?" Mikhail tried to ignore the man in the doorway. "I have Caeli. Why send me down to fetch such a prime example of humanity?" If Gabriel sensed the sarcasm, he paid it no mind. "Michael has his reasons, Mikhail. As his voice at times, it is my duty to ensure his commands are followed. You have your orders: find the man, and protect him." "Where do I find him? New York City, even now, is huge. I don’t have infinite sight, remember?" "Madam LeMay will know." Mikhail glanced over at the archangel. "The old fortune teller? Wouldn’t it just be easier to tell me now?" Gabriel smiled. "Some things you must do on your own." Turning back to the mirror, which now reflected his own face instead of Andrew Blackwell’s life, Mikhail sighed. Sometimes, being low on the angelic totem pole just sucked. *** New York City "Seek him out in the city." Madam LeMay, with her gnarled, wrinkled hands and near-sightless gray eyes, flipped another card onto the table. Her brow creased, adding yet more lines to an already withered face. "He is young, successful. He surrounds himself with only the best, the latest in technology." Mikhail studied the card face-up before him. Under normal circumstances, the Knight of Pentacles represented a man of diligence, thorough and hard-working. In its reverse, as it appeared now, the card represented a man who was pessimistic, who cared more about structure and safe choices than taking a chance on life.

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"Thank you for your time, madam." Mikhail placed several folded bills on the table. The amount would cover her living expenses for the next two months at least, but to him, it was of no consequence. The woman inclined her head in what Mikhail assumed was some sort of "thank you". She gathered up her cards, but left the Knight. Much to Mikhail’s surprise, she slid the card across the table to him. "You will find him. Do not let him deny his heritage." Mikhail blinked. The woman gave him an unassuming smile as she once again spread and gathered her cards. Had he imagined it? Dumbfounded, he watched her. The last card left on the table this time was not the Knight, but the Tower -- the fall. What was the connection? There was always a connection with Madam LeMay. The Knight of Pentacles -- the man he sought. Mikhail wondered what sort of human John the Baptist’s descendant really was. The card wasn’t entirely heartening, especially when followed, more or less, by the Tower. Without another word, Mikhail left the woman’s home and stepped out into the warm July day. He shoved his hands into his pockets and began walking. In the city, the teller had said. At his current pace, Mikhail figured it would take him all day to get from the suburban outskirts where he was, to the heart of the metropolis -- what had once been New York City. He grumbled to himself and plodded on, ignoring the urge to go against orders just to save some time. The blaring of a horn startled him before he realized it came from a nearby house. Through the broken window, he caught sight of something golden in color. Then a figure stepped into sight, the trumpet’s mouthpiece pressed to an old man’s lips. Mikhail scowled up at the sky. "I only thought about it," he muttered. The rumble of distant thunder let him know he’d been heard. Mikhail was reminded of just how much he detested Earth cities a hundred times before he reached the outer limits of Manhattan. Humans had managed to bounce back after the war, to a degree. Many had gone back to some semblance of normality, which seemed to mean shouting at each other and crowds of them filling the cracked sidewalks. There were very few automobiles left, but judging by the unrelenting noise of traffic -- human and mechanical -- Mikhail had a sneaking suspicion that every car, truck, and motorcycle remaining on Earth was flying down the haphazard streets of this damnable hub of urban decay. To top off his already foul mood, he had no idea where he was going. How would he know the descendant of John from all the other bland faces in this place? "You will know." "Oh, there you are. You could have been more forthcoming with details, you know." Mikhail tried to ignore the stares of those around him. Didn’t everyone speak telepathically with their boss?

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"This mission serves several purposes. You will find your charge in due time. Trust your instincts, Mikhail -- they will not lead you astray." With a sigh, Mikhail followed the flock as it migrated across the street during a lull between madcap motorists. He merged into the crowd, gliding effortlessly through it as people passed him in both directions. He didn’t stop or slow down to see if anyone noticed that his boots didn’t quite touch the pavement. Then again, from all he’d heard about this place, he had a feeling no one here would care. "Can you feel him? You are close." "You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?" Mikhail grimaced and quickened his pace. Truth was, he did feel. Something prickled his skin, the sensation foreign and somewhat annoying. All around him loomed the ruins of New York's once-proud skyline, threatening to topple over onto the peons below. Then he stopped and stared up at what was left of a high-rise towering above him. This was it. "Good afternoon," said the armed gorilla who was acting as doorman. He gave Mikhail a not-so pleasant smirk. "Can I help you?" "A little help would be nice right about now, Gabriel." Mikhail heard the Archangel’s chuckle in his head, then Mr. Pleasant-and-Pumped stepped to the side and pulled the door open without another word. On the inside, the building wasn’t nearly as bad. Someone had actually made an effort with this one and fixed it up. Light from a single, bright, candle chandelier reflected off the cracked but polished gray marble floor. Antique gold sconces -- some broken, some holding more candles lined the walls in irregular intervals. Oversized stone urns sat on the floor in-between the sconces, although there was not a single speck of anything green in them. In the center of the lobby stood a circular desk. A security guard, a little more genteel-looking than the primate at the door, looked up from where he sat. His expression combined disdain with a touch of suspicion. "Yes?" Good day to you, too, asshole. Mikhail gave the man his most charming smile. It didn’t seem to make a bit of difference. "I’m looking for Andrew Blackwell." "And you are…?" "A friend of the family." Hey, at least it wasn’t a total lie.

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Gaze narrowed, the guard didn’t appear to be convinced. "Name?"

Mikhail sighed. "Gabriel…"

The guard blinked and motioned toward a set of stairs. "Number twenty-three. Nothing but three

floors left." He turned back to whatever he’d been doing before. Taking that as his cue, Mikhail left the man to his work and headed upstairs. *** Andrew nudged the man beside him with his foot. "Dude, get up. I gotta go to work." When all

he got in response was a grumble, Andrew got up out of bed and yanked the covers off. "Dale!"

"Goddamn it!" Dale scowled up at him from under tousled hair. "What time is it?"

"Eight. Now get up." Andrew dropped the blanket on the floor. "I'm getting in the shower. Lock

the door when you leave."

"Yeah, yeah." Dale sat on the edge of the bed and yawned. "Can't you take a day off or

somethin'?"

Andrew rolled his eyes and went into the bathroom. "Uh, right. All this shit takes money,

remember? Still an economy. Gotta have the good stuff."

The thrum of the water soon drowned out Dale's bitching, but Andrew thought he heard a "later"

in there somewhere. He washed quick, not wanting to overdo it on the water usage. Talk of clean

water shortages was prevalent in even his social circle, and he tried to remain on the conservative

end of the scale while maintaining a lifestyle of at least semi-luxury. He wondered if other cities

that had rebuilt had similar issues, or if it was just a New York thing.

Turning the water off, he grabbed a towel from what used to be a functional warming rack. Now,

though, it simply served as a chrome towel bar. He dried and wrapped the towel around his waist, then went back into the bedroom. "Holy fuck!" He slammed back against the wall, heart going ninety miles an hour.

The stranger seated on the bed looked amused, one dark eyebrow lifting. "Interesting way to put

it, but I suppose if you swing that way--"

"Who the fuck are you?" Andrew remained plastered to the wall, wishing he could merge with it and become invisible. His only route of escape would involve passing the man. "How the hell did you get in here?" Oh, he was so going to kick Dale's ass...if he made it out of here. "Who I am depends on who you ask."

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"Huh?" Andrew shook his head to clear the fog of panic from his brain. "If Dale let you in, I swear I'll beat the motherfucker's--" "Whoa, easy," the man interrupted. "I don't know anyone named Dale, so don't get bent out of shape over him." "Bent out of shape? I get out of the shower and find a strange man in my apartment, sitting on my bed, and you tell me not to get bent out of shape?" The man stood and Andrew tried desperately to flatten himself into the wall some more. Goddamn, this guy was tall. Like, giant-size, even compared to Andrew's own six-foot-two. Broad shoulders, huge fucking arms and legs. He had to be at least seven and a half feet in height. He stepped closer until mere inches separated them. "My name is Mikhail." Andrew knew he must have gone off the deep end when it took the man's voice to tear his gaze from that body. "A-Andrew Spalding," he stuttered. Shouldn't he, like, call the cops, or...something... Oh, God, Mikhail smelled good. Unfortunately, the rest of Andrew thought so, too. He felt himself blush when his cock began to take interest. "You're in danger, Andrew." The words were breathed near Andrew's lips, stealing his breath. "From who?" Andrew murmured, in a trance. The spell snapped as the front door flew off its hinges and splintered wood hurdled through the air at blinding speed. "From them." Andrew didn't have a chance to so much as blink before Mikhail jerked him close. White light flashed around them and it took all Andrew had not to scream as an unholy roar cut through the blinding brilliance. *** Andrew woke to the sound of two men, maybe three, arguing close by. He blinked his eyes open and sat up slowly. Wherever he was, he sure as hell wasn't at home. He looked down at the bed, and fingered the blanket beneath him. It was off-white, ultra soft, and, much to his surprise, it warmed to his touch. He glanced around the room then, taking in the rest of his surroundings as he began to assess just what exactly happened. Focus, man, focus.

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Okay. Wild night of sex with Dale. Shower in the morning. Oh, yeah...hot but fucking weird dude sitting on his bed. Tall, sexy as sin. Andrew had been waiting for what he had stupidly hoped was going to be a kiss, but then light...and, goddamn, that roar. Andrew shuddered. It had been an unholy sound, and one he never wanted to hear again. And now, now he was here. But where the hell was here? The bed dominated the small space. In fact, he noticed, it was the only piece of furniture. There was one doorway, and it didn't have a door -- just an opening. Pale yellow light shone from the hallway outside, brighter to the right. Curiosity got the better of him and Andrew slipped out of bed. The floor, despite being stone, was warm on his bare feet. Only then did he realize he was no longer naked. He ran his hands down the white shirt, noting the way the smooth material shimmered in the dim light. The pants fitted perfectly and despite the rather lackluster shade of dark green, he wondered if maybe he could find some on Fifth Avenue. Well, if Fifth Avenue still existed as it once had been. Out in the hall, the voices were louder, and he thought he recognized one of them. Mikhail, huh? Interesting. Sounded...Russian, maybe? Were all Russian guys that tall? Andrew shook his head and made his way slowly down the stone hallway, following the light and the sound of arguing. He stopped just in front of an open doorway, shock holding him right where he stood. Oh, Mikhail was there all right. But Andrew sure as fuck did not remember the wings. He would have remembered the wings. Big, black, feathered things, as long as Mikhail was tall. Holy... The argument died abruptly and Mikhail turned. "It seems we have company." Andrew's mouth opened. Nothing came out but a small, somewhat defeated, and thoroughly confused sound. One of the other men stepped around Mikhail and smiled. His hair was the same color as his wings, so black it was almost blue. He approached Andrew and held out a hand, like nothing was wrong. "We've been waiting for you, Andrew," the man said. "I am Gabriel." Andrew snapped his mouth shut and forced himself to shake the outstretched hand. "Andrew." Gabriel nodded and didn't let go. He drew Andrew into the room. "No doubt you are wondering where you are." No shit, Sherlock. "Um. Yeah." Amongst other things. Another man sat in a huge chair on the other side of a table. Well, sprawled in the chair, was more like it. His red hair hung loosely over his shoulders and although Andrew didn't see any wings, he had the distinct feeling the man might indeed have them. Dark red eyes stared at him,

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much like a hawk watches its prey. Andrew instinctively stepped closer to Mikhail. "Andrew, you already know Mikhail," Gabriel said. "This..." He gestured toward the quiet, predatory man in the chair. "...is Uriel." Mikhail's arm went around Andrew. "You are safe, Andrew. For now, at least." Pushing away, Andrew stepped back and glared at each one of them in turn. "Where am I? Why am I here?" Mikhail sighed and raked a hand through his dark brown hair, but it was Gabriel who answered. "Andrew, Mikhail brought you here to keep you safe. Trust us." "Why should I trust you? You still haven't answered my questions! Why was my front door blown off its hinges? Do you have any idea how much that'll cost to fix? Shit like that's hard to come by nowadays, ya know? And what's this about my safety? I was perfectly damn fine until Mr. Tall, Dark, and Weird popped into my place." "The Hounds are nipping at his heels and he's worried about his front door. Pity." Andrew shot what he hoped was a nasty look at Uriel. The man seemed to be completely unmoved. "What the fuck are you talking about?" Uriel stood slowly. He was nearly a foot taller than Mikhail. Wings the color of fire spread out behind Uriel, and Andrew swore to fucking God the man's eyes burned. Andrew forced himself to stay put, to stand his ground -- even if the creature before him was the most imposing thing he'd ever seen. "Make no mistake, Andrew Spalding," Uriel said in a deceptively quiet tone. "The Hounds will never stop chasing you. If they find you, you will die. Perhaps a bit of gratitude is in order." Andrew wanted to sink into the motherfucking floor, just seep through the stone right then and there. "Your belongings mean nothing," Uriel continued, every word making Andrew feel smaller, less significant. "Your work is pointless, your possessions are trivial, useless." He stepped closer and Andrew felt awesome heat flow from Uriel's body. "Your faith is pathetic." "What the fuck does my faith have to do with anything?" "It has everything to do with this," Gabriel said. Andrew groaned and shook his head. He took a couple steps back, away from Uriel and toward Mikhail. "Okay. Just...stop." He glared at each one of them in turn. "What is going on? Let's start there."

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Mikhail dropped into one of the chairs and grumbled. "If I'd known this was going to be so difficult, I'd have--" "You would have still followed orders," Uriel finished for him. Then he turned to Andrew. "You are here because of your family's heritage, nothing more. Believe me, if I had a choice, you'd be on your way home." Uriel turned and marched out of the room, leaving Andrew to stare, mouth agape, at bristling red wings before they disappeared out the door. "Um. Is he always such an asshole?" Gabriel sighed and motioned toward another chair. "Andrew, please sit. We've much to discuss." "No shit." Andrew sat and stared up at Gabriel. "So, how about starting with why I'm here? Hell, where is here?" Gabriel tucked his wings in and sat on the edge of the table a few feet from Andrew. "You are in Caeli, the realm between Heaven and Earth. We've brought you here for your protection." Andrew blinked. "Excuse me?" These guys were nuts. Absolutely, positively insane. "What drugs are you on, man? Must be some really good stuff." Mikhail growled, but Gabriel lifted a hand, silencing the sound. "I know this is a lot to take in, but your life is in danger. You are being hunted." "Whoa." Andrew shot to his feet, shaking his head vehemently. "Wait...does this have something to do with those...things that broke into my apartment?" He shivered at the memory. Gabriel nodded. "They are demons, Andrew. Hell Hounds. They were created for one purpose: to destroy you." "What?" Andrew shouted. "What the fuck have I ever done? I mean, sure...I've shagged guys without giving a rat's ass about love and all that. Maybe worked more than played, but I seriously doubt I've pissed off anyone that bad." "Don't you get it, kid?" Mikhail said, the calmness of his voice not quite reflecting the expression in his eyes. "This has nothing to do with sex. It has nothing to do with emotions or possessions or whatever else your mortal mind could possibly come up with. This is a fight for your life, for your soul." "I get that! But why me?" "Because you are the only descendant of John," Gabriel answered.

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"Who?" Mikhail rolled his eyes. "John the Baptist." "Dude...as in, the guy who knew Jesus?" This shit was just getting weirder and weirder by the second. "Yeah, that guy." Mikhail leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees, wings twitching a little behind him. "What part of this are you not understanding? You're in danger. You're safe here for the moment." "Well, how about explaining who you are?" Andrew waved a hand toward Gabriel, who sat listening quietly to them. "I remember enough from church to know Gabriel and Uriel are Archangels. But what about you, Mikhail? I've never heard your name." "You rarely hear about the Grigori who are not fallen," Gabriel said. "Like his brothers, Mikhail is a Grigori, a Watcher angel." When Andrew gave him a blank stare, Gabriel continued. "They were sent to teach humanity. Some went beyond their duties, however, and taught mortals things they should never know. The fallen ones mated with mortal women, creating the Nephilim mortals with the powers of angels." Andrew glanced at Mikhail. "So you're not fallen?" "No." "But you're all angels? Okay.. But who or what is trying to kill me and why does my being related to John the Baptist have anything to do with it?" "How much do you remember from church?" Mikhail asked. Andrew shrugged. "A bit, I guess." "Do you remember anything regarding Endtimes, the coming of Christ, or whatever you want to call it?" "A little," Andrew said slowly. "Are you telling me this all has to do with the Apocalypse?" "Yes," Uriel said from the doorway. Andrew groaned. Great, Heaven's red-headed stepchild was back. "Lovely," Andrew muttered. "And what about my home, my life, my friends? I appreciate you saving my ass from demons, but I have a job, bills to pay. If I don't work, it's all gone." The thunderous impact of Uriel's hands on the table sent shockwaves through the room. Andrew flinched. "What is wrong with you? No one cares about your job or your bills. The only thing that matters is humanity! But then again, if humanity is anything like you, perhaps it's not worth

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saving after all."

"Fuck you!" Andrew jumped to his feet and stared Uriel down, so close he could see the fire

blazing in those eyes. "You know nothing about my world, nothing about my life. Humanity is

well worth saving."

Crossing his arms over his chain mail-covered chest, Uriel smirked. "Prove it."

Andrew growled out of sheer frustration and stormed out. If he didn't get away from Uriel, he

was going to scream.

The only place he knew to go to was the room with the bed, so he went back there, not bothering

to look at Mikhail, who was right behind him.

"Way to go, kid."

"Shut up." Andrew scowled and dropped onto the bed.

"No, I won't." Mikhail stood to his right and loomed over him, arms crossed, wings hidden.

Stubborn, gorgeous fucker. "Pissing Uriel off was not one of the smartest things you've ever

done, Andrew."

"Oh, boo-hoo." Andrew rolled his eyes. "What's he gonna do? Flap me to death with his wings?"

The words were as hollow as his bravado. Truth was, he had no clue what had gotten into him.

Getting an archangel riled up was simply stupid. But damn, archangel or no, Uriel just irritated

the fuck out of him.

Hand fisted in Andrew's shirt, Mikhail jerked Andrew up off the bed until they were face to face.

"Make no mistake, I can protect you from the Hounds, but I can not protect you from him."

"I don't need you to protect me."

Andrew gripped Mikhail's hair and tugged the man closer, forcing his tongue between Mikhail's

lips. Mikhail growled and tore away.

Then he spun them both, slamming Andrew back against the wall, mouth crashing down in a

hard, bruising kiss. Andrew groaned and pushed, fighting for control but failing miserably.

"I don't bottom," Andrew snapped.

Mikhail seized Andrew's wrists and pinned them to the wall. "Neither do I. And I'm stronger."

"Let me go, motherfucker." Andrew squirmed against the hold Mikhail had on him. Jesus, the

man was strong.

"Not until I know you won't do anything stupid. You are reckless and arrogant."

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"I'm arrogant?" Andrew scowled. "You're the one who struts around like you own the place," he shot back. "I do own the place." Mikhail's hands tightened on Andrew's wrists, that hard body dousing the fight in Andrew and replacing it with something else. "My realm, my rules. Do I make myself clear?" Before Andrew could answer, Mikhail's mouth was on his, the angel's tongue thrusting inside. Andrew groaned and tried to pull his hands away, wanting to touch. Mikhail didn't relent though, and ground their bodies together. Andrew was done arguing; he just wanted this -- to touch and taste, to feel Mikhail everywhere. God, what was wrong with him? He should be pissed, but when Mikhail pushed his right leg between Andrew's thighs, giving him something to rub on, Andrew didn't give a damn anymore. "Mikhail." Andrew grunted and Mikhail kissed a path down his neck, lips, teeth, and tongue driving him mad. "Fuck me. Now." "Thought you said you didn't bottom," Mikhail whispered on his throat, one hand slipping between them to cup Andrew through the thin pants. The angel gave Andrew's prick a firm squeeze, fingers stroking. Andrew gasped, head falling back to the wall with a thud. "I-I don't..." Need rocked through him, every touch from Mikhail ratcheting the heat up another notch. "Mikhail..." His pants were ripped off his body and Andrew grabbed Mikhail's hair, moaning into the angel's mouth the moment skin touched skin. Mikhail turned them and put Andrew on the bed, poised over him, one hand braced beside Andrew’s head. "Let me in," he murmured on Andrew's lips as he parted Andrew's legs with one hand. Goddamn. The whole world was skewed around him. Andrew couldn't focus on anything but Mikhail and the fingers sliding inside him, gentle but without warning. For a fleeting moment, he thought to ask where the lube came from, but Mikhail added a third finger and everything else faded. Andrew spread his legs, hands cradling Mikhail's head. Pumping his fingers slowly in and out, Mikhail captured Andrew's left nipple in his mouth. He rolled it between his teeth and sensations bolted through Andrew's body, cock throbbing in time to his heartbeat. "Now." His voice sounded husky and thick even to him. Andrew groaned when Mikhail thrust those large fingers deeper. "Mikhail, goddamn it, fuck me!" "Gladly."

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Mikhail withdrew his fingers and stood. Propped up on his elbows, Andrew watched as that gorgeous body was slowly revealed to him. Mikhail was built, like nothing Andrew had ever seen. The angel's black hair fell halfway down his back and looked to be as soft as Andrew imagined Mikhail's wings would be. Pale skin was stretched taut over hard muscles, every movement mesmerizing. Mikhail's cock was hard and thick, standing out from his body, clear drops of precome beading at the tip. Andrew licked his lips. "See something you want?" Mikhail's fingers ran down the length of his shaft. Arrogant? Oh, yeah. But fucking beautiful. "Hell, yes." Borne down by the angel's body, Andrew lay back on the bed, legs spread. "Mikhail -" "Shh..." Mikhail murmured. "Just relax. I won't hurt you, Andrew." "I never--" Andrew gasped as Mikhail's cock pressed against his hole. He gripped Mikhail's shoulders, breath leaving him altogether when the angel began to push inside. "Oh...God." Hips flush with Andrew's body, Mikhail stopped moving completely. He kissed Andrew softly, taking Andrew's attention off the initial burn. Andrew moaned, easing his hold on the angel. So full, so fucking tight, but God, it felt good. "Mikhail..." "I know," Mikhail whispered. Then he started moving, hips rocking slow and easy. Andrew rode the sensations, the feel of Mikhail's cock sliding in and out of him almost maddening. His own cock lay trapped between them, every glide providing the perfect friction. Need pooled deep inside him, the heat crawling up Andrew's spine. Without a word, Mikhail sped up, strokes growing stronger, deeper. Turning his head, Andrew met Mikhail in a kiss that curled his toes. One more stroke and Andrew cried out, the sound muffled by Mikhail's mouth. The rush overwhelmed him and Andrew bucked, heat spreading between their bodies. Mikhail broke the kiss and threw his head back, hips pumping. Breathless, shaking, Andrew watched spellbound as Mikhail came, the angel's expression intense and awe-inspiring as he filled Andrew with unbelievable heat. Then he remembered -- Grigori fell for mating with humans. Oh, God. "Mikhail?" Head on Andrew's shoulder, Mikhail mumbled, "Hmm?" "That was... I mean..." Andrew squeezed his eyes shut. "Please tell me we didn't just fuck up," he

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whispered.

"No. Two men can't create." Mikhail lifted his head and kissed Andrew's lips. "My standing is

intact."

Andrew let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Thank God."

*** Leaning with his back to the stone wall, arms crossed, Mikhail watched the procession of souls with only mild interest. This was his duty: to hold those who died until they were deemed worthy to enter Heaven's gates. Caeli was a way-station of a sort. Most Grigori, those who hadn't fallen, remained on Earth to watch over humanity. Mikhail didn't come by his position by choice, but he

preferred it to the earthly realm. Unlike Earth, Caeli was relatively quiet, peaceful.

Except lately.

Mikhail groaned and let his head fall back, eyes closing. Uriel and Andrew were at it again.

Granted, he couldn't really blame Andrew for arguing with Uriel. The archangel was normally the type to observe in silence, but once riled up, Uriel was a handful, a ruthless, callous angel who took great delight in meting out punishment to those who defied holy orders. Still, there was no one else who could match Uriel's skill in aerial combat. "You're not going to him?"

Mikhail shook his head. "No. They will have to learn to deal with each other."

Gabriel chuckled. "Perhaps, though I wonder if Andrew does it just to ruffle feathers, so to

speak."

"I somehow doubt it. He's learning. Last night, he was more concerned over the state of my soul

than the fact that I'd taken the one thing he'd never given to anyone else."

"Have you talked with him anymore about things as they stand right now?"

"Not since yesterday."

"He seems to be handling things well," Gabriel said. A second later came the unmistakable roar

from a very irritated archangel. Gabriel laughed. "Well, except for Uriel."

"What is with that, anyway? Why is Uriel here? He's supposed to be watching over Tartarus."

"He switched off with Tartaruchus. I think he just needs a break."

Mikhail snorted. "Right. I personally think he needs to get laid."

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Gabriel popped him on the arm just as Andrew stormed down the hall, looking utterly furious.

"Uh oh."

"He's impossible!" Andrew scowled down the hall at a flash of red-orange. "Why is he such an

asshole?"

"Perhaps..." Gabriel grinned at Mikhail. "Perhaps my brother just needs something -- or someone

-- to temper his fire."

Mikhail lifted one eyebrow. "Ya think?"

"Huh?" Andrew at them both in confusion.

"What Gabriel means is that Uriel just needs a fuck."

"Such language, and from an angel no less," Gabriel chided. "But I agree."

"Mikhail isn't how I'd always pictured an angel to be," Andrew said with a chuckle.

"Oh?" One eyebrow rose and Mikhail stared at Andrew. "And why's that?"

"Well, for one thing, you cuss like a sailor."

Mikhail grinned. "One doesn't spend thousands of years floating between Caeli and Earth and not

pick up a few things."

"I need to go," Gabriel said. "Michael is awaiting my report." He patted Mikhail's shoulder.

"Don't get into too much trouble."

"Yes, sir." Mikhail gave Gabriel a mock salute, which only earned him a perturbed glare. Then

Gabriel was gone.

"Okay, that was just..." Andrew blinked, still staring at where Gabriel had been. "How...?"

"Angel magic. Now, what's up with you and Uriel?"

The scowl was back and Andrew slumped against the opposite wall, just a few feet away.

"Mikhail, this place... I can't live here. I have a life back on Earth, a home, friends. I don't want

to give that up. Uriel can't seem to understand that."

Mikhail sighed and leaned his head back, eyes closed. "Uriel is a warrior, Andrew, and a damn

good one, but he tends to get caught up his work. He delights in it, he loves his station at

Tartarus, and when he's called out, he gets...irritable."

"What is Tartarus?"

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"You'd know it better as the Gates of Hell."

"You're shitting me."

Mikhail looked over at Andrew. "No, I'm not. Uriel and Tartaruchus guard the Gates. Caeli is

mine to control."

"Ah, gotcha. Makes perfect sense." Andrew grimaced. "Not."

"Look," Mikhail sighed. "I don't expect you to understand all of this. All I ask is that you trust

me -- trust us. Earth is not safe for you, Andrew."

"What do I do?"

"You don’t have to do anything but survive. You are a beacon, Andrew -- our standard under

which we fight. But if you were to fall into the wrong hands, those of our enemies, they could

twist you into something I don’t think you ever want to be."

Andrew slid down the wall to the floor. "Mikhail, I..." He shook his head slowly. "I can't do

this." He looked up at Mikhail, his expression one of defeat. It tore something apart inside

Mikhail.

"I'm sorry," Mikhail whispered, going to his knees in front of Andrew. He cupped Andrew's face

in his hands, thumbs stroking the young man's cheekbones. "If I take you home, I can't be there

all the time to protect you. I have my duties here, too."

"I know. I'm just not ready to give everything else up."

Mikhail rested his forehead to Andrew's. "All right. But if you ever need me, just call my name.

I'll be there."

Andrew nodded. "I will."

"They can’t take you against your will, Andrew. It’s a conscious decision as to which side you

fight for. I trust you."

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Part Two Dale stared at Andrew like Andrew had sprouted an extra head. "Dude, you sure you aren't smokin' anything?" "Fuck you," Andrew muttered. He slumped in his chair and sipped on the God-awful acrid shit posing as coffee. "Okay, lemme get this straight. You wake me up at four in the morning only to ask me what day it is. Then you claim you've been gone for...what? A day? Two? When I just left your place yesterday morning." "Shoulda just stayed with Mikhail." "Who?" Dale sighed and sat back, his own coffee forgotten. "Who's Mikhail? And what's this about your front door being ripped off its hinges?" "You don't believe me?" Andrew stood and glared down at Dale. "Fine. Get your ass up and I'll prove it." Tossing his cup in the garbage can on the way out, Andrew left the tiny café -- one of only a few left in the city. Dale would follow or he wouldn't, but either way, Andrew knew the door would provide more than enough proof that he wasn't insane. At least not completely. The whole bottoming for an angel thing was another story entirely. The walk back home was short and Dale fell into step beside Andrew as they neared the building. The front guard stepped to the side, giving Andrew a nod in greeting. Andrew shoved his hand in his pocket out of pure habit, then realized it was pointless. Sighing, he pressed the button on the elevator and ignored the uneasy feeling in his gut. He hadn't been back here since Mikhail had left him standing in his bedroom. After that, Andrew had grabbed some clothes and went to wake Dale up, crashing on his couch. Now here he was, not quite ready to face the reality of the past -- however long ago it had been. The elevator dinged and they both stepped out. Andrew led the way down the hall and almost smiled when Dale's breath caught. "Holy fuck!" "Yeah." Andrew stared at the wreckage of what had once been his front door. Now, it was nothing but a pile of splintered wood scattered on both sides of the doorway, the twisted remains of the locks decorating one wrecked doorjamb. "Now do you believe me?" "Uh." Dale stepped around him and peered into the dark apartment, though he didn't go any farther. "Yeah. Yeah, dude, I do. What the fuck did this, Andy?" Andrew snorted. "Hell Hounds," he said dryly.

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Dale shot him a disbelieving look, but it quickly faded. "You're not shitting me, are you?" "Nope. And if Mikhail hadn't been here, I'd be splattered all over my bedroom right now. They'd have to scrape me off every surface." "What the hell have you gotten yourself into?" "Hell's a good word for it." Andrew shivered. "Let's get the fuck out of here, man." "What about clothes, your other things?" Andrew shook his head and hugged himself, the feeling of unease getting stronger. "Fuck it. It's not worth it anymore." Dale's mouth gaped open, the look of shock almost comical. "Who are you and what did you do with Andy Blackwell?" Andrew glared at him. "Smartass. Now let's get out of here." "After you," Dale said with a wave of his hand. Back out on the street, Andrew was finally able to relax a little. They walked in silence, though Andrew sensed Dale had questions but was simply refusing to ask. Hell, Andrew wasn't sure he had any answers anyway. God, he needed Mikhail here, needed to know more about what was going on. At least with Mikhail, Andrew felt safe. Here, back on Earth, among the destitute and the greedy -- the last dredges of humanity -- nothing but despair remained. For the first time in his life, Andrew saw the world through different eyes, wiser eyes. He couldn't remember ever caring about the homeless lady who pushed her battered cart along the sidewalk. He passed her every morning on his way to work, simply sidestepping to avoid getting his feet run over. She wasn't as old as he'd originally thought. In fact, she appeared to be close to the age his mother had been when she committed suicide. She'd been in her late forties. Andrew's stepfather, Norman, had died, like many others, fighting for his family, for their freedom, and his death had been more than Andrew's mother could bear. Andrew stopped. "I can't do this." "Can't do what?" Dale turned and looked back at him. "Andy?" "I'm sorry." Andrew pivoted on his heel and ran back toward his apartment. Once inside the building, he didn't wait for the elevator. Instead, he took the stairs, two at a time, and came out in the hall a few yards down from his apartment. He stepped over the shattered remains of the door and went right for his bedroom. Dale, panting and not entirely thrilled, appeared in the bedroom doorway a few minutes later.

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"What the hell?" Andrew grabbed the big trunk out of the closet, emptied the sex toys out of it, and started tossing handfuls of clothes and shoes inside. "This is what he meant," he said, more to himself than to Dale. "Who?" "Uriel. I understand now. God, I was so fucking stupid, Dale. So stupid and so pathetic." Andrew tossed all four of his heavy coats and two lighter ones on top of the massive pile of shoes and clothes. "Hand me the lock box out of the top right-hand dresser drawer." "You've lost your mind." Dale got the box and handed it over. Andrew laughed and tugged his keys out of his pocket. Finding the one for the box, he unlocked the small safe and started tucking cash into one corner of the trunk: almost two thousand bucks. The other hundred dollars went into his back pocket. "Holy shit. You're rollin' in it!" "Doesn't matter," Andrew said as he squished the trunk top down and locked it. Then he took the key for it off his key-ring. He tossed the rest of the keys to Dale. "It's all yours now. Get out of that shithole you live in and move in here. There's another three grand in the canister in the freezer. Use it wisely. I recommend fixing the front door first thing, though." "Whoa." Dale grabbed Andrew's arm just as Andrew pulled the trunk off the bed. "What the fuck, man?" Andrew sighed, grabbed Dale's face in both hands, and kissed him hard. Considering they'd never kissed, despite all the fucking, it had the effect Andrew had hoped for: it shut Dale up. "I'm leaving. Uriel was right, Gabriel was right, Mikhail was right. None of this shit matters, Dale. Don't you see? My life here doesn't matter." Dale shook his head, which was still cupped between Andrew's hands. "No. I don't. Where are you going?" "I'm going to..." Andrew smiled. "I'm going to do whatever it is I need to do." *** With Dale's help, Andrew carried the trunk down to the street. It took nearly half an hour to find the homeless lady, but Andrew finally spotted her and followed her into an alley. Surprisingly, she was the only person there. When she turned, she met them with a half-smile. Andrew returned the gesture and he and Dale set the trunk on the ground before her.

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"Good morning, ma'am," Andrew said. "I know you don't know me, but...I want you to have

this."

The woman stared down at the trunk, then back up at Andrew. When she spoke, her tone was

soft, touched with emotion and confusion. "Thank you, but what is it?"

Andrew crouched down and opened it. The woman walked around to stand beside him. "It's not

much, but I hope it helps you." He glanced up at her.

Tears welled in her eyes, though they didn't fall. "Why?"

"Because you need them more than I do," Andrew said as he stood. He fished the key for the

lock out of his pocket and lifted her hand. After placing the key on her palm, he gently folded her

fingers over.

"Bless you, child," she whispered.

Andrew smiled and turned to walk away. The woman's next words stopped him cold.

"Silly mortal."

Fear shot through Andrew and he grabbed Dale's arm, jerking the man with him as he bolted out

of the alley. A roar echoed behind them and screams filled the air when a two-headed Hell Hound tore out onto the busy street. "Mikhail!"

Light flashed before them and Andrew barreled right into a broad chest in silver plating. Sword

drawn, wings unfurled, Mikhail looked every bit the warrior. He shoved Andrew and Dale to the

side a fraction of a second before the Hound slammed into him. The impact sent shockwaves

through the air itself, the ground buckling beneath Mikhail's feet, sending both angel and demon

into the earth.

The screams and shouts died out and a tense silence settled over the street. Andrew jerked away

from Dale's death grip.

"What are you doing?" Dale hissed.

Andrew ignored him and stepped up to the crater. "Mikhail..."

"Get out!" The words barely registered in Andrew's mind before Mikhail and the Hound shot up into the air. The Hound shrieked, its two jaws snapping at Mikhail as the angel parried. Mikhail's wings stirred up dust from the ground, the cloud quickly obscuring the two combatants.

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"Andy!"

Andrew waved Dale off, his heart slamming into his ribcage as he searched for a break in the

dust cloud to see Mikhail. He caught a flash of steel, but before he could see anything more,

thunderclouds rolled in, blocking out the sun. Lightning split the sky and a ball of flame hurled

toward Mikhail and the Hound.

"Mikhail!"

The fire broke through the cloud and, a split-second later, the earth trembled under the weight of

the Hound. It crashed to the street, shattering the asphalt. Its blood sizzled as it seeped out of

several gaping wounds. A fiery arrow was lodged deep in its throat.

The cloud dissipated and Mikhail dropped to the ground, landing on his knees. Andrew ran to

him and cupped the angel's face, tilting Mikhail's head up to see him. Cuts marred the strong

features, but Mikhail smiled.

"You are too kind for your own good."

Andrew rolled his eyes and laughed. Booted feet appeared in Andrew's peripheral vision. He

looked over and up at Uriel as the archangel slung his bow over one shoulder. "Thank you."

Uriel nodded. Looking around at the people gawking at them, he said, "None of them will

remember this tomorrow. The hole will be blamed on a sinkhole from the abandoned subway."

"What about...?" Andrew glanced over at where the Hound's body had been. "Where'd it go?"

"Back to the ether." Mikhail grunted as he stood. "To be reborn. Eventually."

"Oh."

Mikhail stretched and flexed his wings. "Thank you, Uriel."

"Don't mention it." The archangel smirked. "Don't stay away too long. I'm not going to babysit

your realm forever." Then he was gone.

Andrew blinked. "Did I miss something?"

Mikhail held out a hand and helped Andrew to his feet. "No. We need to go. I have to talk to

you."

"What about Dale?" Andrew asked, looking around for his friend. Dale's dumbstruck expression

made him smile.

"Send him home. We need to talk, Andrew."

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Nodding, Andrew left Mikhail's side and went over to where Dale stood on the sidewalk. "Um..."

"Please tell me I didn't see what I think I saw."

Andrew sighed and raked a hand through his disheveled hair. "Afraid so, man. But no one is

going to remember anything tomorrow, according to Uriel. I'm assuming that means you, too." Dale met his gaze, and the man's expression was blank. "Look, go home. The apartment's yours now." "This is goodbye, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It is."

"Take care of yourself, Andy," Dale said. "Gonna miss ya."

"Same, but maybe we'll see each other again sometime. Take it easy." Andrew gave Dale a hug.

Then he headed back to Mikhail. "I'm ready."

Mikhail pulled him close and the angel's wings wrapped tight around them. "Time to go home."

Andrew slipped his arms around the angel and held on tight. He had no idea what was going to

happen now, but just being around Mikhail eased something inside him. Andrew wasn't about to

call it love, but given time, who knew?

Light burst around them and Andrew clung to Mikhail for dear life when the ground disappeared

out from under his feet. When they touched down a few minutes later, his equilibrium was shot

all to hell. Mikhail's wings unfolded and Andrew knew they were back in Caeli. Hell, they were

back in the same room he'd been in before.

"Mikhail, where am I--"

Andrew found himself pressed against the wall, Mikhail's mouth devouring his. His question

forgotten, Andrew groaned and grabbed Mikhail's hips, tugging the man harder to him. The

bottom edge of Mikhail's wings brushed Andrew's knuckles, and Mikhail growled, entire body

jerking.

Mikhail broke the kiss, his stare hot enough to melt steel. "Andrew."

A light bulb went off in Andrew's brain then. Smiling slowly, he lifted his right hand and stroked

the lower edge of Mikhail's left wing. Mikhail growled and seized Andrew's wrist.

"Don't."

"Why not?" Andrew tried to pull his hand away. This discovery was entirely too fun to ignore

just because an angel was getting his feathers ruffled.

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"Just...don't." Oh, there was heat behind those words, but from the look in Mikhail's eyes, it had nothing to do with stopping...and everything to do with "fuck yes". Andrew finally freed his hand and drew a fingertip down the inside of Mikhail's wing. Mikhail didn't stop him this time, but Andrew could have sworn the angel's cock throbbed against his own, even through their clothes. "How sensitive are they?" Mikhail groaned and his wings twitched. "Too sensitive." "Don't make me tie your feathered ass down and find out for myself." One dark eyebrow rose and the angel snorted. "Yeah, right." He ripped the button off Andrew's jeans and shoved them to the floor. "Hey, I liked those!" "You won't fucking need them." Mikhail freed his own cock and smirked. "Get 'em off." Grinning Andrew sank to his knees, tongue sliding along smooth skin. Mikhail sucked in a sharp breath and one hand fisted in Andrew's hair. The angel tasted like nothing Andrew had ever known -- musky and male, yes. But there was something else, something pure. If Mikhail's white light had a taste, Andrew knew this had to be it. He nudged Mikhail's hand away and circled the base of the angel's cock with his fingers. Mikhail's flavor burst on his tongue when Andrew licked the precome off the tip of Mikhail's prick. Sweet, rich... Goddamn, this man could easily become an addiction. "Andrew..." Mikhail's fingers flexed on Andrew's head, urging him closer. Smiling, Andrew opened up and sucked the head of Mikhail's cock into his mouth. He hummed and moaned, loving the almost desperate sounds pouring down onto him from Mikhail. He drew the angel in deeper, tongue caressing the underside, tracing one large vein. It throbbed under his touch and Mikhail's cock swelled, the angel hissing. Breathing in deep through his nose, Andrew swallowed Mikhail completely, lips sealing around the base. "Fuck!" Mikhail's wings flapped wildly, his thighs shaking. Then he roared, searing heat rocketing down Andrew's throat. Andrew thanked God he'd learned to do this a long time ago, because the rush of Mikhail's orgasm surprised him. He pulled off slowly and licked the barely-soft flesh clean, then sat back on his heels, pants still around his ankles. Staring up at Mikhail, Andrew stroked his own cock lightly, fighting the urge to come just yet. Mikhail grinned and tugged him to his feet.

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"On the bed." After stepping out of his jeans, Andrew went to the huge bed and crawled across it. Just before he rolled, though, Mikhail grabbed his hips, keeping him on his hands and knees. Then those strong hands moved over his ass, spreading his cheeks wide apart. Andrew damn near whimpered, head and shoulders lowering, offering up everything. "All..." Mikhail's tongue slid up his crack and Andrew groaned. "...mine." "Mikhail!" Andrew thrust back hard, impaling himself on the angel's tongue. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," he panted. He'd never felt this, had only done it to other guys. Oh, dear God... Spreading Andrew open, Mikhail thrust his tongue deep, licking and sucking the puckered hole. Andrew moaned and panted, sensations beyond anything he'd ever felt in his life. He fisted his hands in the blanket, chanting Mikhail's name with each breath. He was so hard, he ached, precome dripping onto the bed. When two of Mikhail's fingers pushed inside him, Andrew cried out, shoving back and shaking. Mikhail nipped his left asscheek, pumping his fingers in and out. "Don't stop," Andrew gasped. "Oh, sweet fuck, Mikhail..." "Ready for my cock?" Mikhail murmured. He spread his fingers, forcing Andrew's hole open. Andrew's breath left him altogether and he could only nod. Mikhail chuckled and pulled his fingers out. Then the blunt head of his thick cock pressed in, slowly filling Andrew. Andrew hissed, ass clenching. "How...how'd you do that?" he said between breaths. "How'd you make it slick?" "Angel magic," Mikhail whispered, hips rocking into Andrew. Mikhail slipped an arm under Andrew and pulled up, driving his cock deeper. "Plus it's amazing what you can learn from an incubus." "Fuck me." Andrew turned his head and reached up, tugging Mikhail's head down for an awkward, twisted, hungry kiss. Moaning, Mikhail began thrusting, slow and easy, grinding against Andrew before pulling back out. Andrew curled his fingers in the angel's hair and lowered his other hand to his own cock. Mikhail's right hand joined his, and together they stroked Andrew's shaft, fingers linked as they both pumped. Heat built up deep inside him and Andrew sped up his strokes, jerking his cock faster. Mikhail's thrusts inside him strengthened as well, the angel groaning into Andrew's mouth. Tearing away from the kiss, Andrew shouted, pleasure exploding over his senses as he came, coating their hands. Then Mikhail shoved him down face-first onto the bed. Hands braced on either side of Andrew, Mikhail slammed into him, over and over, cock pistoning in and out of Andrew's ass and threatening to make him hard again. Unable to find any way to push himself up, Andrew just grabbed the blanket and held on, pushing his ass back for more. Mikhail shifted

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his angle and rammed inside, cock head hitting its target.

"Mikhail!" Andrew threw his head back, hips bucking wildly as more heat spread over the

blanket beneath him.

Mikhail ground hard against him and with several quick thrusts, the angel came, pumping

Andrew full. Andrew collapsed onto the bed, breathless and utterly boneless. Mikhail came

down a moment later and kissed his shoulder before pulling out.

"I'm never moving again," Andrew mumbled into the bed.

Chuckling, Mikhail rubbed Andrew's back. "I won't complain. I kind of like the view."

"You're insatiable."

"I've been accused of worse, I suppose."

"And you're an arrogant smartass."

"That's a given."

Andrew turned his head to look over at Mikhail. "I guess I'm here for the duration, huh?"

Mikhail seemed to think on it, then he nodded. "Afraid so. Earth isn't safe for you anymore."

"What about basics, like...food, water?"

"Angels eat manna, a bread type of thing. It's pretty good. Though as a human, you'll need more.

I can travel to Earth to get whatever you need, but I suggest you stay here when I do. As for

water, we've got that in abundance. There's a river just outside my keep, and there's no pollution

here."

Propping himself up on his forearms, Andrew studied the man beside him. "How big is Caeli?"

Mikhail shrugged. "Probably the size of Manhattan, much less crowded unless you count the

souls in transit. My keep is on a mountain top, overlooking the fields below."

"Why did I think this place was underground?"

"No clue," Mikhail chuckled.

Andrew sighed and rested his forehead down on the bed. "So now what?" He heard Mikhail shift

beside him.

"Did Uriel tell you anything before?"

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"No. We were too busy arguing."

Mikhail snorted. "Now, that's a surprise. Anyway, as we should have explained-- Endtimes are

nearing, Andrew. We've not found a living descendant of Christ, but we have the next best

person: the descendant of one of his closest and most trusted disciples. Unfortunately, we aren't

the only ones. Those in Hell are stirring, searching for the only human get in their way."

Andrew lifted his head and stared at the headboard with its intricate scroll work. "Me."

"Exactly. With you alive, there will always be a strong opposition to the powers of Hell. Lucifer

knows this, so he's ordered your death."

"Great," Andrew muttered. "Nothing like having the Prince of Darkness wanting your head on a

platter."

"But you're safe here," Mikhail reminded him. "The others are gathering an army as we speak."

"So this really is a war." Andrew glanced over at Mikhail and the angel nodded. "It was stupid to

hope humanity's final war would be the last I'd see, I guess."

"War is never final," Mikhail said. "It's a vicious cycle that doesn't stop. It may have, yes, but it

is ongoing in one form or another. It's how life grows, how it evolves."

"You learn this from humans?"

"It stands true for angels and demons as well. I was created as a Grigori, but I've evolved. I've

been through wars -- Earth and elsewhere. I've learned and grown."

"How old are you?"

Mikhail's brow wrinkled. "I lost count."

Andrew laughed. "Guess?"

"Umm...a thousand? Maybe? I don't remember. I stopped counting around six hundred-fifty

years."

Andrew blinked. "Damn. Well, this gives a whole new meaning to the older man younger man

relationship, doesn't it?"

Mikhail grinned. "You could say that."

"So what's the plan then? I just hang out here until I die?"

"You can't die here."

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"Huh?" Mikhail sat up and slid out of bed, then held out a hand to Andrew. "Come. I want to show you something." "Okay..." Andrew rolled over and took Mikhail's hand as he got up. "Dare I ask?" "Just a little...geography lesson." Mikhail led him down the hall and into a vast room. A circular pool dominated the center, its pale blue contents swirling in a sea of cloudy liquid. Every so often, Andrew caught a glimpse of what he thought was a face. Much to his surprise, the sight didn't startle him as he might have expected it would. "This is where the souls remain once they enter my realm," Mikhail explained. "The Pool of Caeli is the last stop a soul makes before it continues on to Heaven or Hell. The deeds one does, the decisions one makes in life are weighed against each other here." "Who makes the final judgment?" Andrew asked as he peered into the shimmering depths of the pool. "Do you?" "No. Michael and Gabriel do, which is why Gabriel was here before. When a human dies, Azrael brings the soul here. The removal of the soul from the body is gentle if the person was good in life." "And if the person wasn't?" Mikhail looked over at Andrew. "Then the Angel of Death rips the soul free with his scythe." Andrew swallowed hard. "Um. Ow." "To put it mildly." Mikhail grinned and waved toward a door across the room. "That way. There's still more to show you." Andrew took one last look at the pool, then went around it to the door. "Whoa." Mikhail stepped up behind him, arms sliding around Andrew's waist. "That is the only representation of time you will ever find here." The gilded clock face dominated the small room, its two hands unmoving, set at exactly midnight. The faceplate was covered in symbols, none of which looked even remotely familiar. Andrew went closer them. "They are the symbols of the Archangels," Mikhail said. He pointed to the one at the top, partially hidden by the clock's hands. "This one is Michael." His finger moved clockwise to where the three would be. "This is Gabriel's." Then down to the six position. "Raphael." The nine

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position. "Uriel." "Wow. It's...beautiful." "And powerful. Time stops here. It can take an eternity for a soul to be judged." Mikhail tapped Andrew's shoulder and pointed to a small door off to the right. "That way." Andrew followed Mikhail out the door, and they stepped onto a ledge with only a barrier between and a sheer drop down the side of a steep mountain. Below them lay a lush green valley, covered in trees and other rich flora. Andrew stared at the picturesque scene in nothing short of awe. It was a masterpiece come to life. "It looks like...It's how always pictured Eden."

"It is similar, but not quite Eden. Caeli has two faces. To those who are good in nature, Caeli is a

paradise. But to those who lived with evil intent, it is a living hell-- of sharp, jagged rocks that

snag at the bare feet, fires that never stop burning, choking, putrid air."

"Guess I should be glad the worst I've ever really done is run when a guy said 'I love you',"

Andrew muttered.

"You have nothing to fear," Mikhail whispered, arms snaking around Andrew's waist more.

Andrew shivered when the angel's lips brushed his neck. "Your soul is pure."

"Well, not so sure about pure..." Andrew closed his eyes when Mikhail moved higher, breath

warm on his skin. "Mikhail..."

"Hmm?"

"You keep that up, and you're gonna get me hard."

"And this is a problem why?" Mikhail licked the curve of Andrew's ear.

Andrew groaned softly, tipping his head a little to give Mikhail more room. "What if someone

sees?"

"Since when are you concerned with such things?" Mikhail's hand lowered, cupping Andrew.

"You are unclothed now, as am I. The souls do not see us, and we are the only other here." He

circled Andrew's shaft with his hand, stroking slowly. "Let me love you, Andrew," he whispered.

"Mikhail." Andrew bit his bottom lip, hips beginning to rock into that touch. "I don't believe...

Oh, God..."

"But you believe in us." Mikhail's thumb grazed the tip of Andrew's cock, slicking it with

precome. "I know this."

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Andrew shook his head, caught between fear of opening up when all he knew of love was his mother losing hers, and the near-overwhelming need for whatever Mikhail could give him. "Please..." A warm breeze blew around them, caressing Andrew's bare skin, sensitizing it. He felt Mikhail in the wind, around him. The angel was everywhere, his essence the very heart of this place. Andrew shuddered and leaned back into Mikhail's strength, gasping when black wings enfolded him in feathered velvet. "Let me in..." Andrew cried out, the rush overwhelming as he came in Mikhail's hand. Behind him, around him, Mikhail moved, heat splashing over Andrew's lower back. The angel's wings tightened, enveloping Andrew in safety. "I am not perfect, Andrew, but I will never intentionally hurt you. Trust me." "I do," Andrew whispered. "I do, Mikhail."

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Part Three A trumpet sounded, dragging Mikhail out of a deep sleep. Andrew stirred beside him, but didn't wake. With as much as care as possible, Mikhail got out of bed and slipped on a pair of loose pants. Then he went down the hall, past the pool, through the clock room, and out onto the terrace. Gabriel, horn in hand, lifted into the air, then dropped to his feet before Mikhail. "The army is

assembled. We need you."

"What about Andrew?"

"Bring him. He will be our standard, and he will be well protected."

"Where is Uriel?"

Gabriel looked off into the distance, then back at Mikhail. "Gone to take care of a small matter

on Earth. He will join us soon."

"You don't look particularly thrilled," Mikhail said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"He and Michael are at it again," Gabriel sighed.

"I swear, those two fight like they're..." Mikhail's words trailed off and he stared, mouth agape, at

Gabriel. "They are..."

Gabriel nodded. "They've kept it quiet, but yes, they have been lovers for some time. It's a

stormy relationship, but they would go to the depths of Hell for one another."

Mikhail blinked and shook his head. "I don't know why I didn't see it before," he mumbled to

himself. "It makes perfect sense now. They way they've always argued. It should have been obvious." "Perhaps it was and we just missed it."

"Did I miss something?" Andrew wandered out onto the terrace and yawned. Dressed in nothing

but his green pants, he was a truly a sight to behold.

Mikhail pulled the young man to him. "We have to leave."

"Leave?" Andrew looked up at him, sleep still making his eyes a little hazy.

"The armies are ready. You will be safe, though. With legions of angels around, nothing can

harm you."

Gabriel nodded. "I will see you both when we go into battle. First, I must alert Azrael."

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"Does he fight, too?" Andrew asked.

"No," Mikhail said. "Azrael is quiet, quite content to stay out of warfare."

"Can't blame him," Andrew muttered.

"Don't worry." Mikhail smiled and cupped Andrew's chin, tilting the young man's face up for a

soft kiss. "The fires of Hell itself could not stop me from protecting you."

"I hope so," Andrew whispered, "because I don't have wings and superhuman strength to save

my ass otherwise."

Mikhail chuckled. "No, but you have me."

End

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Apocalypse Rising Copyright © 2007 by Mychael Black All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680 Printed in the United States of America. ISBN: 978-1-60370-252-2, 1-60370-252-0 Torquere Press, Inc.: Single Shot electronic edition / January 2008 Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680

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