Let this be my public apology, just as I spoke it to my seniors. I regret going against their wishes, and I meant no disrespect to any of them. But I do not regret what I did. I cannot, because I simply had to say goodbye.
I spent this afternoon visiting my other charges, checking in with them and seeing how they fared. I did not spend much time with any of them, though—I feared that they would sense my mood and that it would bring them down, too. No human should have to bear an angel’s sorrow.
At first, it was not intentional, or at least not something that I thought about. I had fallen into the habit of saving Shannon for last on my visits, and so I was already with her before I remembered. And once I was there, I couldn’t leave her.
It was a lazy Saturday for her, and she was stretched out on her couch, a cooling cup of coffee on the table beside her, flicking through emails on her phone. She was still in her pajamas, a matching set of soft gray cloth printed with roses. Her aura was gray, too, making her hair seem that much more vivid. She was waiting for someone to call her—her parents, perhaps, or friends from Washington; as yet, she does not know very many people in her new town. Though she had not acknowledged it consciously, her loneliness was clear for me to see.
Had I been allowed, I could have used that. I could have appealed to her wish for distraction to lead her to good people, could have gone out to find those people myself. I would have. I still would.
But I can’t. She is truly alone.
Though I wanted to, I was not rebellious enough to reach out to her. Instead, I only sat there with her, hoping that she would feel my presence somehow.
I do not know how long I was there before I noticed another presence in the room. I must have been quite distracted, for when I turned around, it was none other than Anteros standing there behind me, his wings furled.
I leapt up, terrified. “Elder!” I cried, bowing. “I am sorry, I should not have come.”
He smiled slightly. “One of those statements is true,” he observed. He came closer, looking down at Shannon, who rolled over on her side, perhaps in unconscious recognition of his scrutiny.
I waited while he examined her, trying to read his aura. He did not seem angry, but then, he is a Dominion, and more than capable of hiding his thoughts from the likes of me.
“You have done a wondrous thing here, Asa’el,” he said after a moment. “This woman has many shadows on her soul, some which she has carefully nurtured for years. And yet you have not only been able to look past them, you have come to love her for the person she is, shadows and all.”
When he said nothing more, I said, “I did no more than any of my sisters or brothers would have done.”
“I think that is not true. We angels have our prejudices, too, and we do not always see clearly.” He straightened and turned back to face me; as he did, one of his wings stretched out over Shannon, and she closed her eyes and sighed. “She may not ever realize that you were with her, but her heart will remember the love you gave.”
Sudden tears came to my eyes.
“Speak,” Anteros said, seeing them. “Tell me what is really troubling you.”
He is very wise, our Elder. I look at Shannon through my tears. “Have I not just made things worse?” I asked him, wishing that I could ask her. “Have I not offered her something she needs, only to take it away? She has grown accustomed to my presence—what if she misses me or needs me and I am not there for her?” I could not stop the tears that were falling.
Anteros came to me and wrapped me up, arms and wings alike drawing me in. I felt sheltered, and understood, and very warm. “My young brother,” he murmured, “you are facing one of the bitterest choices we must make in this long, long fight. You have done your best and more, and the mark of that will remain in her spirit. But it was she who chose to turn away, and you must respect her wishes. Grieve over her, yes, but do not let her destroy you when there is so much more you can do.”
And hard though it was to accept, I realized that he was right. Shannon has made the choice that she does not need me. She chose to protect herself rather than to trust, and so now whatever I try will not be enough. I will break myself on the cold iron forming inside her, and many others whom I might have helped will be left in shadow. Do I not owe them better than that?
Still, it is hard. Despite her rejection, I still love her.
“Is there no hope for her, Anteros?” I asked him when I had calmed. “Will she fall?”
He would not lie to me. “I do not know, my brother,” he said. “But she has not been claimed by the darkness yet. And when we go, we will both leave our blessings with her. That is certainly not nothing.”
So we did bless her, both of us. The blessing of a Dominion sank deep into her, warm and soft and as comforting as a mother’s embrace, but it was my blessing that made her smile, for I wished her strength and solidity and the wisdom to know when to be a bitch and when not to be. And at the last, I whispered her name, and told her all my hopes for her, and said that I did not leave because I wanted to.
I hope that some part of her heard me. I hope that some part of her remembers.