Sacred Cups (Seven Archangels Book 2) Page 11

  Jesus returned to work with the knife. Satan said, “Are you the Son of God?”

  When Jesus said nothing, Satan strode forward. “I asked a question, monkey.”

  Jesus still didn’t reply, as if he hadn’t heard him at all, so Satan grabbed him by the wrist and wrenched him through space to the pinnacle of the Temple.

  Michael reappeared beside them. Raphael had beaten him there, his wings in flames. “You can’t touch his body! You know that! What are you trying to prove?”

  Satan stood behind Jesus as a hot wind whipped past him. People milled beneath their feet, oblivious. “If you’re the Son of God,” he said, “you can throw yourself down and be perfectly safe. You love to quote scripture, so you know He’s given His angels charge over you. Surely you realize they’re here now, even though they’re not going to stop me. Gabriel would dive into fire for you, and Raphael would destroy the Earth before letting you hit the ground. They’ll bear you up on their hands so you don’t even kick a stone. So go ahead. Show everyone the power you command.”

  Jesus said, “It’s also written that you shouldn’t tempt the Lord your God.”

  They were back in the wilderness just like that. Jesus picked up the wood and the knife.

  Satan said, “So you do claim to be the Son of God.”

  As Jesus continued working, Satan said, “I’m going to show you one more thing.”

  He flared his wings, and in an instant Satan recreated the world in a show of light: monuments and cities, roads, vehicles, machines that built, machines that flew. He cupped his hands and out flared more light in the shapes of musical instruments and jewels and artwork. There was laughter and prosperity, sunrises and fields of crops, seas and skies teeming with life, and flashing through all that were faces of every race and age.

  “All this is mine.” Satan sounded shocked at his own cleverness, almost delighted. “God gave them a garden and instead I forged them a world. Can you build this, Carpenter? Palaces taller than the clouds? Bridges to span the seas? Ships that dock on the moon?”

  Openly surprised, Jesus kept taking it in: the cities, the people, the buildings.

  “All this is mine,” Satan said, “and can I give it to whomever I want. Don’t you want this? I’m not going to let you steal my world from me, but I’m quite willing to share. As soon as you worship me, I’ll let you have it.”

  Jesus shook his head. “The Law says you should worship the Lord your God, and you should serve Him alone.”

  Satan shrugged. “Naturally that’s what the Law says. The Law was written by Him, and I’m smart enough to realize what you said isn’t a denial. The Law also says to feed the hungry and to proclaim the works of God everywhere. You’ve done neither when provided the opportunity. You’re the Son of God, and you have an inheritance to collect. That inheritance is in my hands right now, but I’m a proper steward and will present it to you once you worship me.”

  Jesus said, “It’s not just me, and it’s not just the law. You should serve God alone.”

  He waved a hand so the images dispersed. “And that’s a final refusal. Thank you for your service. You’re dismissed.”

  Satan started to speak, but then he vanished too.

  Jesus let out a breath and seemed to deflate, then put his face in his hands. Michael could feel him praying, gratitude for deliverance and strength and the right words to say. Compassion for the people Satan led in circles on a regular basis. And then a question.

  The Father answered, and Jesus sagged with relief, smiling.

  Raphael wrapped around him. “Can you hear me again? I never left.” Jesus nodded. “You did great. You won on all counts.”

  Gabriel moved before him, holding a bowl with lamb and lentil stew. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, “but your mother wanted to feed you.”

  “Tell her thank you.” Jesus took the food and laughed. “It’s time to go into the world and build a real city. An everlasting city.”

  #

  And so it began.

  Raphael’s joy sparkled through creation like a comet’s tail. Remiel followed it until she met up with Jesus walking the road away from the Jordan with Gabriel and Raphael in attendance. Remiel hadn’t seen Raphael this delighted in centuries, and given a Seraph’s predilection to fully enjoy life, that said a lot. So she stayed. He chattered with a bright enthusiasm that both Jesus and Gabriel must have found infectious, because they were talking right along with him.

  Raphael gave her a breakdown on Satan’s attempt on Jesus, and she shivered.

  They reached the closest town, and at the border, Jesus took a deep breath. He got his bearings, and then headed for the synagogue. And at the entrance, he started to talk to the people in the streets.

  Remiel said, “So we’re building a city?”

  Gabriel said to her, “Cities are made of people.”

  Remiel grinned. “You said that before.”

  Gabriel chuckled.

  Remiel folded her arms. “What’s the strategy? How do you build a city out of people?”

  “You’d have to ask Jesus,” Gabriel said, “but if you build a city, the first thing you need is a means of support, a natural locus that drives trade to that site and then individuals.”

  Remiel huffed. “Why are you making it sound so…clinical? And boring. This isn’t anthropology.”

  Gabriel shrugged. “He’s using the metaphor of a city, so I’m going to extrapolate his intentions from actual cities. Clearly the grace of God would function as this city’s natural locus. What happens next is you create buildings, and then over time the buildings concentrate, and once you’ve saturated the buildable land, you begin to develop sprawl. We’re at the earliest state. He’s going to have to find a few individuals who become the foundation of those initial buildings that tap into the natural locus.”

  Raphael said, “He needs disciples.”

  Gabriel nodded.

  Remiel muttered, “You could have just said that.”

  Gabriel snickered. “It’s more fun to figure it out.”

  Most people continued their daily lives, but some stopped to listen as Jesus talked to them. It wasn’t exactly preaching. Sometimes he’d recite scriptures, but other times he told stories, and through it all, the only constant listeners were the angels. Guardians encouraged their charges to stop, but most only paused and then went on.

  When Jesus talked about the City of God, though, one of the passers-by said, “What is the city of God? Jerusalem?”

  “No, not Jerusalem.” Jesus thought. “What would you compare it to…? The city of God is more like a treasure hidden in a field. If you knew it was there, you’d sell everything you had just in order to buy that field.”

  Remiel said to Gabriel, “That puts Jesus’ value at double yours.” When Gabriel started, Remiel added, “Satan only offered you half his kingdom to switch sides. He offered Jesus the whole thing.”

  Raphael looked over. “What?”

  “When Satan was hitting on Gabriel.” Remiel put her arms around Gabriel’s shoulders. “He kept offering Gabriel co-regency. That’s half his kingdom, right?”

  Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “No, because if Satan owns you, then you owning half his kingdom is the same as him owning the whole thing. If he got Jesus to worship him, and then gave him everything, he’d still have owned it all. He’d just have had one more puppet string to pull in the process.”

  Raphael drew up short. “What are you talking about?”

  Remiel put her head next to Gabriel’s. “You remember. I yanked you in front of God’s throne and told you to pray, just pray, even though I couldn’t tell you what for. That’s when Gabriel was in deep.”

  Gabriel tightened his wings to his side, and Raphael looked at him with a discomfort that broke over Remiel like goosebumps. “How could you have been in trouble? So Satan offered you the world. You don’t want the world.”

  Gabriel stared at the ground. "I really don’t think you want to hear about this.” />
  Remiel shook her head. “He didn’t just show up and say, ‘Gabriel, old pal, you want half a world?’ He orchestrated something vicious.”

  Raphael’s eyes flamed. “You never told me that. I’d have gone after him.”

  “You don’t understand.” Gabriel swallowed hard. "I just wasn't prepared. I thought I could handle it, but what he was offering— He just knew."

  Raphael said, "What did he offer?"

  "Everything." Gabriel shivered, and Remiel remembered the terror of watching Gabriel in what looked like an unstoppable freefall. "He offered companionship and music and debates and a library. If he'd been physically seducing me, I'd have been naked and in his arms."

  Raphael's eyes widened. "But— Didn't Michael stop him?" He looked at Remiel. “Why didn’t you try to stop him? Rather than just sobbing at God’s feet and telling me to pray, why weren’t you out there with an army?”

  "No one came to help." Gabriel sounded desolate. "Satan demanded that concession from God, but I didn't know. One night he hooked me with a poem, and by the end of it I was answering all his questions." Gabriel wrapped his arms around his stomach. "We were debating like two Cherubim, and he said, 'Are we going to argue like this when you're my co-regent?'"

  Raphael chuckled. "Only if you want to do it right."

  Gabriel froze. "Oh. They told you."

  Raphael's eyes popped. "You actually said that?" Gabriel nodded wearily. "No one ever told me anything. It just sounded like something you'd say to me." Raphael sounded pained. "You went through a wringer to stay true, didn't you?"

  "You don't understand," Gabriel whispered. "By that point, he had me enjoying it."

  A cloud of shame clung to both of them. Remiel’s wings flared. “Guys, get a grip. Gabriel didn’t go with him. It doesn’t matter how close you came. You didn’t.”

  Neither of them would look at one another, and those emotions kept building. Guilt? Shame? “I thought you worked this out,” she said. “It’s okay. It’s over.”

  Raphael said, “You talked to her about that?”

  Gabriel bit his lip. “I needed advice.”

  Raphael bristled, then turned his back and went to Jesus’s side.

  Remiel put a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. He felt cold like iron in the moonlight. “Please forgive me. I’m sorry. I spoke without thinking because I thought it was funny.”

  “It’s okay.” He forced a smile at her. “You’re right, except Jesus is worth more than twice what I am. Satan would have overspent for me. Or maybe he just can’t pay what Jesus is really worth.”

  As the sun was setting, Jesus accepted an invitation to stay at someone’s house, and the angels trailed him there. His host invited several friends to dinner so they could keep talking, among them a man named Andrew. “I’m only here for tonight,” Jesus said. “I need to return to Nazareth tomorrow, to help my family with preparations for a wedding” and Andrew volunteered to go with him. “I’ve got a brother I want to meet you,” Andrew said. “I think you’ll like him. His name is Simon.”

  Nine

  Chaos in the kitchen.

  Mary was baking bread to bring to the wedding, and she’d sent Simon and Andrew to the market for more supplies. Raphael and Uriel guarded from the rooftop while Gabriel and Jesus had talked mathematics for the better part of the morning. Their conversation had continued right through the bread's mixing, kneading, shaping and baking. Remiel remained in a desolid state on the sidelines, but Jesus had looked at her more than once with a smile.

  Zadkiel sat cross-legged beside Remiel. She had a flute in her hands, but rather than playing she only ran her hands over the holes.

  “There’s something about this wedding,” Remiel said. “Do you feel it?”

  Zadkiel agreed.

  Across the room, Gabriel created a design on the table-top, and the light pattern of whatever he was drawing reflected on their faces as he manipulated the light points.

  I wish there were anything I enjoyed that much, Zadkiel sent to Remiel.

  Remiel laughed. Mary pivoted toward their corner, but Uriel sent reassurance, and she turned back to the bread. Remiel shivered: Mary couldn’t feel any difference between the Irin.

  Unaware of that simple and yet arrow-sharp exchange, Zadkiel sent, How much are they going to bake?

  Remiel shook off the feeling. I guess as much as they can for this wedding tomorrow. They’ll pack it up and head out for Cana this afternoon.

  Zadkiel frowned. How many people attend a wedding?

  I don’t know, but it would be embarrassing to run out of something as simple as bread.

  Mary looked over Gabriel’s shoulder. “I’m uncertain if this is supposed to make sense.”

  Remiel laughed out loud, and Gabriel shot her a look. “It’s just geometry.” He stood so Mary could get closer to the lightwork lacing the tabletop. The imagery glistened against the surface, a richer color where it was dusted with flour. Mary knelt beside Jesus before the table, and Gabriel leaned over her, retracing the image with a white light over the blue designs.

  “I understand some of it,” Mary said, “but then you start talking about four- and five-dimensional objects, and you’ve lost me.”

  “It’s really not that hard.” Gabriel reached over Mary to show her something else.

  “Here we go again,” Remiel said.

  “He has no problem visualizing things that give even other Cherubim a headache,” Zadkiel said. “He forgets that angels see things humans can’t.”

  “For example,” Remiel said, “other angels.”

  “That would be one, yes.” Zadkiel laughed. “Tesseracts, three- and four-component matrices, sine waves and hyperbolic sine waves together, exponential formulae…”

  Gabriel finished his explanation and looked down at Mary expectantly.

  Mary inched up and kissed him on the cheek.

  Remiel and Zadkiel exploded with laughter as Gabriel’s feathers fluffed. He bolted to the far wall, staring at Mary, his cheeks bright pink.

  Raphael and Uriel dropped through the roof.

  Gabriel and Mary stared at one another, and Mary held her breath as if the world had stood still.

  Then Gabriel forced a smile. “You could warn me when you’re going to do something like that.” His voice was unsteady.

  Jesus chuckled. “So you could be in another country by the time she got near?”

  Gabriel projected agreement. His wings were trembling.

  Mary said, “I’m sorry. You’re just… You think a normal person can absorb that?”

  Gabriel gestured toward Jesus. "He absorbs it."

  “He’s a lot smarter than I am. That’s my point.” Mary stepped away from the table. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  Jesus grinned at him. “It’s all right. I’m not going to strike you down.” He winked. “Don’t be afraid. She’s just my mother.”

  “I don’t want to think of the penalties for propositioning your mother.” Gabriel inched back toward to the table.

  “It sounds more like she propositioned you,” Raphael said.

  Mary said, “Am I that scary?”

  Gabriel was looking into Raphael’s eyes, and momentarily his whole soul seemed steadier.

  Michael appeared in the kitchen, his sword in its scabbard. “Everything all right?”

  “Nothing Mary couldn’t handle,” Remiel said, and Zadkiel smothered a laugh. Gabriel folded his arms and shot a dark look in their direction.

  “Gabriel had to fight off a scary force,” Zadkiel added.

  “You may have to fight off a scary force in a minute.” Gabriel returned to the table. Raphael’s eyes sparkled, and Gabriel continued brightening as he looked at Mary. “You know, I’m flattered, but I couldn’t possibly return your attentions. You’re so much younger than I am.”

  Mary ran a hand through her floured hair. “I’ll try to nurse my broken heart.”

  Remiel sent Michael an image of Mary kissing Gabriel, a
nd Michael struggled to contain the laughter. Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Remiel, come here and draw me a tesseract.”

  “I’ll be right there,” she said. “As soon as I figure out how to do that.”

  Jesus said, “We probably need to cut the lesson short anyhow. Let’s wrap the bread and get it loaded for the trip.”

  Mary and Jesus headed to Cana with the disciples. Gabriel left to assist Saraquael with an assignment across the globe. Remiel stayed; on the peripheries, she could detect a curious darkness.

  Is something about to happen? she asked Raphael.

  Raphael frowned. You sense it too?

  Remiel folded her arms, sitting intangibly inside the bread and keeping it dust-free as the donkey pulled the cart over the rutted roads.

  Raphael sent, I think our enemies are feeling it as well.

  In lieu of words Remiel drew her sword, laying it across her lap.

  Uriel pivoted, concerned.

  Remiel kept her senses as broad as possible, scanning. No demons attacked on the road.

  #

  Zadkiel patrolled the wedding, armored. Demons were present, as at most human gatherings, but none of the higher ranks, and they limited their activities to specific people.

  A haze of worry emanated from the groom’s parents, and she drifted toward them where they spoke with the steward. Zadkiel flagged Michael.

  Uriel approached, projecting questions.

  Zadkiel shook her head. “I’m not sure.”

  Michael appeared. “Anything wrong?”

  They listened in, and it became apparent the steward was reporting an embarrassing problem: someone had miscounted the wine vats. Apparently some were empty or some had been misplaced, or perhaps even stolen. Regardless, after the current supply ran out, they had no more wine.