Rachmanes asked me if I would exchange sentry duty with him today. I did not ask him why, but I learned soon after I had arrived at George and Kara’s home. Less than half an hour after I had informed Kara of my presence, George arrived, though he should have been at work for another hour or more. He came into the house and quietly asked if they could have a word with me.
Kara must have been waiting for him, for she came directly out of her office and sat down on the sofa next to him, staring at me. She let him speak, though.
“Kara and I have been talking,” he said, uncharacteristically hesitant. “And we’ve decided…well, we wanted to ask you something.”
Then I knew what it was. “You would like to know about your past lives.”
They both nodded. “You told Freya,” he explained, “about who she was. And it helped her understand herself a little better. Kara and I both think that’s important for what we’re facing. We want—we want to be the best that we can be.”
“An admirable sentiment,” I said. “But you should know that knowing about her past was also hurtful to Freya. It exposed her to self-doubt and uncertainty.”
George nodded, and I wondered what Freya has told them. “But in the long run, it’s helped her,” he said. “She knows that she’s different from Hestel, but she also knows that Hestel is still part of her. She understands that part better, and that’s the part of ourselves that we need to tap into in order to fight well.”
“I am happy to answer your questions, of course,” I said gently. “But I want you to know that you don’t need to do this. You are doing well. You don’t need to push yourselves if you are not ready.”
They looked at one another, and I saw a flicker of light along the thread that ties their hearts, a communication that even angels cannot touch. I smiled to see it—it is a sign of a true bond between matched souls, a rare and beautiful thing that warms my Cupid’s heart.
“It’s not just about the battle,” George said, gazing at Kara. “Everyone should work to understand themselves as well as they can. It’ll make us better people in the end.” He turned to me with a smile. “And isn’t that the end goal of everyone on Earth?”
I returned that smile. “It is indeed.”
And so I told them. I have looked into their pasts, both out of curiosity and wanting to know what might help me to train them. Before now, I did not have their permission to share that information, and so I have written nothing about it, but now they have given me that permission.
I told George that he was a Scribe named Navanethem, a Power by the time he was incarnated. Navanethem’s work focused on the faithful, on the ways that religion guided people’s lives, and sometimes led them astray. He had a fascination with the ways that faith could rest on faulty information and beliefs, and it frustrated him that he could not understand how humans could miss the truth that was so clear to angels. It was that frustration that drove him to seek incarnation so he could see for himself.
He smiled as he listened to this. “I guess I still don’t understand,” he said.
“Perhaps not, but you have found a comfort with uncertainty,” I reminded him. “You accept what you cannot be sure of, and you are open to other realities—something for which I can be very grateful.”
His eyes went to my scar, and when he met my gaze again, there was understanding between us.
Kara snorted and sat back. “Trust you to be a nerd even as an angel,” she said. “Up there writing records for hundreds of years. It’s perfect.”
He turned to her with a grin. “Well, now it’s your turn. Let’s hear about the heavenly rock star that you used to be.”
I watched Kara carefully as she turned to me. She had said nothing all this time, and I was less sure of her reaction than I was of George’s. But her gaze when it met mine was steady, and her aura was quiet, like a still pool under moonlight.
And so I told her about Evliya, a Virtue Muse who was much older than both Hestel and Navanethem. I told her about the many artists she had inspired across the long years, none of them known, because her gift was giving art to those who needed it most, those who would have been lost without it. I told her about the many, many souls she saved by giving them an outlet for their pain and a way to understand and to share their joy. And I told her that it was the desire to create some of that art for herself that finally brought her into this life.
“And you may trust me, Kara, when I tell you that you have succeeded,” I told her. “Your stories, your poetry, your art is exquisite, and it was worth every year of waiting, in that life and in this one.”
She stared at me for a long moment, until George put an arm around her shoulders. Then she took a deep breath and blinked away her tears. “Thank you,” she said hoarsely.
And then she jabbed George in the ribs with one finger. “Now if I hear even one old lady joke—”
And so the conversation ended with laughter, and assuring them that I was available if they had any more questions, I left them to think about what I had told them.
I’m proud of them for how well they took it. I think that they are right, that it will do them some good, both in training and in their understanding of themselves.
I will let them tell Freya. It will mean more for them to tell their own stories to someone who understands.