Today I went to see Orison, for several reasons. Guardians must have more contact with their seniors than Cupids must—even those who have been tested and proven, which I have not just yet, must refer back to their direct supervisors to pass information and receive guidance. This way, Orison explained to me, our work is more effective across the Earth. I also wanted to speak to him about taking on Miranda as my charge, and to see how he fares after the flight and the battles he went through.
I found him on our mountain—I have begun to think of it thus, and I do not think he would object. It is a fine sanctuary for both of us. He seemed in good health and greeted me warmly, asking after Freya.
“She’s beginning to feel lighter in her spirit,” I told him, pleased to be able to give such good news. “She is already unhappy about the cold, though, and longing for spring.”
“That is an unfortunate outlook,” Orison said, looking up at the branches overhead, which were coated with snow. “But your fire woman should have no trouble keeping her heart warm through the winter, especially with you to guard it.” He angled his head at me. “But I think you have someone else on your mind as well.”
He is perceptive as usual. I told him then about Miranda, about her struggles with money, her wish to adopt Evan officially, and about the threatening phone calls and the man who was following her after Christmas. Orison listened gravely and did not answer immediately after I posed my question.
“It does not have to be me who helps her,” I said, “but I think she is worthy of help and protection.”
“She is,” Orison mused. “But I would not choose this for your first guard, Asa’el. Greed is a powerful motivator toward violence, and these men will not give up easily, I think. You will have to be especially vigilant.”
“I am willing to do so, of course.”
Orison considered for another moment, and then nodded. “Very well. But I think I would like to give you a watcher to help you.”
I was surprised. “Guardians have watchers as well?” It is a part of a Cupid’s training to watch over the charges of older angels from heaven, but I rather thought that the Guardians did most of their own watching.
“Yes. We do not always make use of them, as they have much other training to do, but in this case I think it would be wise. Let me look into it, and I will let you know when I have chosen someone.”
“Of course, and please thank them for their help when you do select them.”
He smiled. “You can thank them yourself.” He shifted his wings then, but the movement was not quite as graceful as it usually was, and a flicker of pain went through his aura.
“Are you unwell?” I asked quickly. “Should I get Br—a healer?” I had to remind myself that Brid was still in training to help Guardians, and while I personally believe her to be the best healer in heaven, that is certainly a biased opinion.
Orison shook his head, working one wing back and forth as if to test the movement. “I am well enough. A difficult battle in the flight, that is all.”
I said nothing, but he must have seen my curiosity, for he laughed and said, “Shall I tell you, then?”
“I would very much like to hear.”
His smile washed affection over me, but then it faded, and shadows appeared in his eyes. “It is not a lovely story,” he warned me.
“It is a story of battle with our fallen brothers and sisters,” I answered. “How could it be lovely? But I still would like to know, if you can bear to tell me.”
He sighed. “Very well. In truth, you were the one who warned me of the first Fallen I will speak of—just outside of New York City?” When I nodded, he went on, “I found them there as you said, four Violences gathered around the same establishment. There was quite the brawl happening within, and they were just watching, proud of their work.” Scorn was thick in his voice. “Yael was with me—she is as new to the Lower Eye as you are to being a Guardian, but just as promising a talent as you are.”
From his voice, I knew what was coming, and my heart ached already for my sister Yael.
“We scattered the Violences easily enough,” he continued, “but as they fled, they laughed, which made me wary, and rightfully so.” He looked me straight in the eye. “Our Flight is important, Asa’el, and its ritual and symbolism gives hope to our people, but there is also a disadvantage in that our Enemy knows about it, too. Frequently the Fallen will lay traps for us on that night, and this was one of them. No sooner had the Violences gone than three Apostates appeared.”
I shuddered. Apostates are dread warriors of the Fallen, those who have made it their mission to attack and kill those who were once their siblings. They are one of the few divsions of the Fallen who will attack angels directly and with intent.
Rather than try to describe what cannot be described, Orison showed me the battle, and it placed a chill in my heart that remains. I can only pass on in words a few captured images—the white gleam of fell light from the Apostates’ weapons, the swiftness of their strikes, the fierce pain as one of their blades cut deep into the base of Orison’s wing, nearly severing it, and worst of all, Yael’s terrified scream as those cruel hands closed on her.
“She is alive yet,” Orison assured me, “but still in the care of the healers. It will be some time before she returns to fight, if at all.” His wings hung low. “I wish that I could have protected her better.”
It seemed wrong to me that my teacher should speak such a regret. “Yael chose this fight, as did we all,” I reminded him. “Do not diminish her strength. She is a soldier who fought by your side, and to have survived such an attack is a victory in itself.”
Orison looked up at that, his aura warming. “She said precisely the same. And it is true—she fought brilliantly and bravely, and I am more proud of her than I can say.” He gazed right at me. “Still, for the young to fall while the old linger—that should not be.”
In his eyes I could see his worry for me, and it warmed me even as it stung my pride. I drew myself up and said, “I will be fine, Orison.”
He put his wings around me and rested his forehead against mine. “I hope that is true, Asa’el.” Sighing, he stepped back again. “Consider Miranda your responsibility now. I will send a watcher to you in the next few days.”
And he left me there, perhaps sensing that I needed the peace of that isolated place to soothe myself. It was quite a story, and not a lovely one at all.
I wonder if Brid has met Yael. I wonder if she knows more about my injured sister’s progress.