Sacred Cups (Seven Archangels Book 2) Read online

  Mary chuckled. “You have a way with words. But the winnowing itself--what happened?”

  Gabriel pointed at her, and she laughed as she closed her eyes again.

  Mary felt herself again looking through a younger Gabriel’s eyes, although she could tell time had passed. From God, a summons to all the angels to gather, and once again they took their places in spheres around the heavenly throne. God asked them to sing, and they did. As the song flowed through Mary, her eyes teared up again. This was the last time, their last song with all the angels together. They didn’t realize it.

  And then God’s aspect revealed itself anew, as three persons in one: the Creator and the Word and the Sanctifier. Mary wondered a moment, but then Gabriel re-cast it as a Word and the Voice that spoke the Word, and then the Word’s meaning, but all the same even though they were all a bit different. And as she relaxed into that definition, the Creator presented the Word in a material form. His Son. God, and to be worshipped.

  But material. An animal. A hybrid.

  Lucifer burst with light and challenged God, demanded an explanation and charged Him with setting whims out as laws. He said it wasn’t rational, wasn’t right, wasn’t fitting. But God insisted.

  Lucifer said, “Would you lose all of us to stay that way? Because we will not serve you like that.”

  Gabriel reached for Raphael through the bond, and Raphael was shocked, but sent reassurance, and then Raphael knelt and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Lucifer struck at him. “Gabriel!” he called. “Follow me!”

  Gabriel froze as Lucifer called a long roster of angels — more and more, and some came to him. Gabriel flashed to Raphael, who looked stunned. “No,” Raphael whispered to her. “Don’t go with him.”

  Lucifer turned to Gabriel with a glare made of liquid fire. He summoned Gabriel a second time, but she wrapped her fingers in Raphael’s wings. “Get over here!” Lucifer shouted. “We need you. We need to stand together. And bring Raphael with you.”

  Raphael grabbed her hand, but she kept looking at Lucifer.

  A green light streaked from the outer spheres of the angelic host—Michael, hurtling out of nowhere right in front of Lucifer. Who is like God? he kept asking. Who is like God? We have to worship—we can’t refuse!

  Michael drew his sword. He was shaking, and his blue eyes were terrified. “I’ll stop you.”

  Lucifer struck Michael, breaking his sword.

  Gabriel tore free of Raphael and rushed to cover Michael with her wings so Lucifer wouldn’t hit him again. He was just an Archangel. But Michael dropped his broken sword and pulled Gabriel’s from her scabbard, and he flew straight back at Lucifer.

  Raphael cheered. Gabriel came to her senses and transferred all her power into the sword in the second before Michael struck, and Raphael flooded her with his power to feed into the sword as well.

  Michael struck. Lucifer blew back all three.

  Mary registered surprise. Lucifer was that strong?

  Assent from Gabriel: he’s still that strong. Gabriel still wouldn’t be able to defeat him.

  Gabriel and Raphael armored themselves, and around them other Seraph-Cherub pairs did the same. The Cherubim realized quickly they could leverage their bonds to both power the Seraph and guide the Seraph’s movements, making the Seraph a much more effective fighter. But then other angels joined up with Lucifer, insisting what God wanted was a disgrace, disgusting, unfathomable. And with that, war broke out in Heaven.

  Now they needed not only to restrain Lucifer, but to prevent the spread of the lie. Because Lucifer was dissociating himself and spreading through the entire angelic realm. To each angel he was presenting a different set of reasons to resist God’s order, each time carefully matched to the angel’s own vulnerable spots. Or in some cases, misuse of their strengths.

  Michael didn’t get blown back again. Even without Gabriel’s sword, he used his own broken blade to fight. None of Lucifer’s most powerful allies had as much as noticed Michael before, but Lucifer realized immediately that he couldn’t just swat Michael aside.

  In fact, Michael’s presence alone served as a summons to the other angels to resist Lucifer. That it wasn’t enough just to watch, but they had to take sides.

  Gabriel guided Raphael and Israfel as they clashed with the other high-order rebels to keep Michael covered doing his own work because clearly God was working through him.

  And slowly Michael went from not being overpowered to actually being able to defend, to then pressing forward, to having a distinct advantage. His sword re-formed. His armor shone. He grew faster and stronger, and he pushed Lucifer toward the foot of the throne with his sword at his neck.

  Lucifer looked up at the light of the Godhead and snarled, “You are not my God, and I am not your servant. I reject you. I will never serve you.”

  Michael grabbed Lucifer by the shoulders, and with his eyes a brilliance like the sun, he twisted reality until Lucifer had been flung out of Heaven and into Hell. A Hell that until that moment hadn’t existed at all.

  Michael turned to the rest of the angels, and with thunder in his voice, he exclaimed, “Choose!”

  The ones who refused to serve tried to run, but Michael’s forces rounded them up and expelled them from heaven too.

  At Gabriel’s side, Raphael dropped to his knees and crossed his wrists over his chest.

  It was time. Gabriel knew it was time to make her choice, but when she looked at God as a material being, her stomach twisted, and she couldn’t understand.

  Finally Gabriel knelt. She clenched her teeth and went through with it.

  Mary sat up. “Really?”

  Gabriel drew his wings close. “It was enough. Barely. I did it in form. Now there would be no question.”

  Mary closed her eyes.

  “It’s a testament to God’s mercy how He accepted that.” Gabriel shook his head and watched the spindle twirl. “And then I took a census of who remained.”

  Mary didn’t respond.

  “I’m not proud of the way I handled things.” Gabriel hunched his shoulders. “It was easiest to deal with the carnage as a type of intellectual exercise. It was only later that I really saw the hurting around us. One of Michael’s closest friends fell. Two of mine. Seraph-Cherub bonds were broken. Remiel lost her twin brother.”

  Mary sat back. “It sounds horrible.”

  “I didn’t want to believe it at first. God had told us it would be a test. I never dreamed anyone would fail, or that having failed they wouldn’t then try again to do it right. Even less that they’d commit to doing it wrong.”

  Mary closed her eyes again, but the story didn’t continue. No, she knew the rest. Lucifer became Satan. Satan accused the people, tested them, tried them, made demands and eventually got Adam to break God’s one law for life in paradise.

  Gabriel had a spindle full of yarn. “I told you it wasn’t a bedtime story.”

  “No,” she murmured. “But it’s you. It’s your history. Thank you.”

  He set the spindle in the basket. “God pulls us through. Even when it’s as bad as you think it can get, and it makes no sense, God knows what He’s doing. Try not to worry about Jesus.”

  Mary closed her eyes, and Gabriel played music for her. She couldn’t place the sound, but the vibrations moved through her as if she could hear them with her ears rather than her heart, and before long she’d drifted to sleep.

  Twelve

  “I actually don’t need this right now,” Raphael snapped.

  Gabriel, with a Cherub’s typical blindness to the blatantly obvious, said, “True, we aren’t the point of his preaching, but surely you agree we can derive some greater understanding from the universality of the teachings he presents the humans.”

  Raphael turned his attention away from Gabriel back to the crowd. There had to be five thousand people here, maybe more if you counted the children scrambling around. Definitely one more if you counted the three year old sitting on Jesus’s lap whi
le he spoke to the crowd about the Kingdom of God.

  Jesus had developed a rhythm to his teaching, and the people had gotten used to it, and the twelve were getting good at enforcing it. Jesus would talk loudly for a while, projecting his voice as far as it would go over the plains. Then he’d rest for a bit, have some water, talk to a few people. Sit with a child on his lap while he whittled some fantastical creature the child had never even conceived of. “Look, it’s like a horse, but it has a neck as long as two men standing on one another’s shoulders!” And the child would laugh, and Jesus would snicker, and Gabriel would say, “Giraffes aren’t actually a close relation of horses.”

  Behind him now, Gabriel was saying, “The point about bad trees producing bad fruit is accurate enough, but he carries it further to say a bad tree can’t produce good fruit. And yet we know God works all things together for the good of His children, so in the end, all fruit will in some way be good fruit. This creates difficulties in the process of discernment.”

  “You don’t say,” Raphael murmured, trying to keep at least some personal space around Jesus. More children were coming to him asking for silly animals, and he started work on another creation.

  “Moreover,” Gabriel went on, “within that bad fruit from the bad tree will be seeds, and the seeds themselves will yield good trees, which will then yield good fruit. This further complicates matters.”

  Andrew came up to Jesus and murmured, “The people have no bread. You need to send them away so they can find food.”

  Jesus didn’t look up from his carving. “Give them something to eat yourselves.”

  Simon exclaimed, “There have to be five thousand men here! We don’t have anything like what it would take to feed them.”

  Judas said, “Not to mention, we can’t afford that much bread. It would take two hundred denarii at least.”

  Jesus looked up at Philip, who said, “We have five barley loaves and two fish.”

  Jesus handed the finished animal to a little boy, who laughed because who had ever heard of a rodent with a long flat bill like a duck’s? Then he stood and said, “Get the people to sit in groups of fifty.”

  Gabriel stopped talking, watching with an alertness that matched Raphael’s. What’s he going to do?

  Raphael thrilled as the crowd complied, a sea of people parting into little islands consisting of families, neighbors, friends. It took a long time, but then the twelve came back: now what?

  Now what? Raphael put his hand on Jesus’s shoulder, and Jesus said, “Bring me what food we have.”

  Just a little while ago, Gabriel sent, didn’t he refuse to turn stones into bread?

  Raphael moved in close to Jesus, feeling through Jesus’s own anticipation, his own questions. Jesus set out baskets, breaking bread into all the baskets, and then he stood with the baskets arrayed before him and began the blessing.

  Thomas whispered, “What is he doing?”

  Judas whispered back, “Just watch. He had us casting out demons and healing the sick a little while ago—I bet he’s going to do something.”

  Jesus looked to the twelve. “Distribute the bread.”

  Judas rushed forward to grab a basket, and he beamed. “Bread!”

  They disciples rushed out with the baskets, but before Simon left with his, Raphael called, “Hey! You forgot someone.”

  Simon hesitated, then turned back to Jesus and handed him a loaf of bread. “You should eat too. Keep up your strength.” He took a step back, then offered a smile. “Um…thank you. Thank you for feeding everyone.”

  Jesus met his smile with a grin of his own. “You’re welcome. Go ahead and feed everyone — but make sure to keep the leftovers, that way nothing is lost.”

  Gabriel slipped past Raphael and examined the loaf in Jesus’s hands. “This isn’t just bread. It’s Mary’s bread.” He looked up with light in his eyes. “Her consistency, her style.”

  Jesus winked at him. Heaven won’t be heaven without bread in it.

  Gabriel replied, But you went for the familiar.

  How do you know they’re not all tasting their own mother’s bread?

  Gabriel’s wings flared, and he pivoted. “Really?” He turned back. “Oh, wait, you’re joking around with me, aren’t you? Wouldn’t you make perfect bread?”

  Jesus replied, Don’t tell anyone, but as a matter of fact, I would.

  Raphael kept scanning the crowd. What next?

  Jesus replied, They eat.

  The twelve were handing out bread and fish as fast as they could, people crowding up against them to make sure they got some even though the twelve kept insisting there was more than enough. You eat too, Raphael said. You’re exhausted.

  A little kid came up to Jesus with the carved giraffe and pushed it face-first into Jesus’s bread. Jesus broke off a bit and pretended to feed the wooden animal, and the kid giggled. He fed it some of his own.

  As the day waned, the twelve returned, their baskets still filled. Jesus looked back over the bread, but then picked up his head. Listened.

  The people were cheering, watching him. “This is the prophet!” some were calling. Raphael went out to take the temperature of the crowd, then returned, trembling.

  Jesus leaned closer to Simon. “I’m going to slip away. You keep the bread. I’ll meet back with you in Capernaum.”

  Simon frowned. “Why?”

  “Look at them. They want me to become king. I’m not going to do that.”

  Judas had been watching the exchange. “But why? You’ve got five thousand men here, ready to take orders from you! We could set up in Capernaum and drive out the Romans from there, then galvanize the rest of the country!”

  Jesus shook his head. “That’s not why I came. Disperse the crowd once they’ve finished eating, but I’m leaving now.”

  Judas called, “But we may never have a chance like this again!”

  Jesus left them behind, walking out into the trees. “Raphael,” he whispered, and Raphael wrapped around him and carried him away, up the mountain where he could be alone.

  Thirteen

  Raphael had to do everything but draw his sword that night to keep what seemed like hundreds of guardian angels from approaching Jesus with questions about everything he’d said that day on the mountain. Exhausted, Jesus needed to rest.

  He had just settled to sleep when Gabriel slipped past Raphael, knelt where Jesus lay, and touched him on the shoulder.

  Before Raphael could protest, Gabriel had awakened Jesus. He looked at the Cherub sleepily.

  “I had a question,” Gabriel said.

  “It could have waited,” Raphael snapped.

  Jesus shook his head. “It’s all right.” He turned back to Gabriel. “And you didn’t want to ask in front of a thousand people?”

  Gabriel lowered his eyes. He had his hands folded. Raphael smoldered because Gabriel was wearing that perfect “servant” look when he’d just awakened Jesus for his own benefit. The disciples’ guardians had all stopped their various activities and turned to watch, something Gabriel certainly knew. How private could this question be if he was willing to ask in front of twelve guardians?

  “Earlier today, you told the crowd to love their enemies.” Gabriel’s wings tightened so he looked compact. “I think it’s noble. I understand the concept of killing with kindness, but you’re taking it step further into being kind because that’s how the Father is.”

  Raphael said, “You woke him just for that?”

  Gabriel pulled back in on himself and averted his gaze. “I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”

  Jesus said, “Raphael, Gabriel: when one wins, both lose.”

  Gabriel stood.

  “Stay,” Jesus said. “I knew you were going to ask this when I said it. You might as well do it now. I’m awake.”

  Gabriel sat again. “It won’t be long. You asked them to love their enemies, bless those who cursed them, and do good to those who persecuted them.” When Jesus acknowledged this, Gabriel said, “Do you mean
you want us to pray for Satan?”

  Raphael’s eyes flared. “Are you insane? You woke him up for that?”

  Gabriel lowered his eyes. “I’ll leave. I’m sorry.”

  Jesus smiled at Raphael. “Don’t blame him. He’s a Cherub with a question, and I’m the one who can answer it.”

  “What I’ve said is the logical conclusion to your statement.” Gabriel wrung his hands. “If you meant that they should pray for those who persecute them, and for their enemies, then who else but their greatest enemy and their first persecutor?”

  Jesus said, “You object to this.”

  Gabriel nodded. “I don’t want him to succeed. Praying for good things to happen to Satan would be insincere on my part because the things he would think are good are things that would injure the human and angelic races.”

  Jesus said, “But good happening to him doesn’t mean he would necessarily consider it good. I can name one very good thing that happened to you that you would have given anything to set aside.”

  Gabriel stared at the ground. “Point taken. But all the same, doing good to him would by my estimation set back all the good we want for others.”

  Jesus tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. “Do you think it’s possible to benefit everyone?”

  Raphael began vibrating. “This is an insane conversation.” He turned to Gabriel. “You’re asking if you should pray for Satan. That’s— It’s obnoxious. He wants nothing good for anyone. He denied God. He damned a third of the angels, and he seduced the human race. I don’t think God would even honor those prayers. Satan is the enemy.”

  Gabriel turned back to Jesus. “Agreed. He’s the enemy. I can’t reconcile that with what you said.”

  Jesus leaned forward “Do you think the Father ever loved him?”

  Gabriel’s eyes flared. “Of course he did! I never questioned that.”

  Jesus said, “Does God change?”

  A glacial coldness spread through Gabriel, or maybe it was Raphael feeling his own. ANd then he turned and saw standing under a tree the demon Mephistopheles. Watching. From the feel of him, watching for a while.