reality, no matter how painful it might be.
I guess I’m not perfect.
The young man facing me waited patiently, apparently giving me time to gather my thoughts, saying nothing.
Uriel. I should have known from the outset. Uriel is the archangel who most people know little about. Most don’t even know his name—and apparently he likes it that way. If Gabriel is an ambassador, if Michael is a general, if Rafael is a healer and spiritual champion, then Uriel is a spymaster—Heaven’s spook. Uriel covered all kinds of covert work for the Almighty. When mysterious angels showed up to wrestle with biblical patriarchs without revealing their identities, when death was visited upon the firstborn of Egypt, when an angel was sent into cities of corruption to guide the innocent clear of inbound wrath, Uriel’s hand was at work.
He was the quietest of the archangels. To my way of thinking, that probably indicated that he was also the most dangerous.
He’d taken notice of me a few years back and had bestowed a measure of power known as soulfire on me. I’d done a job or three for him since then. He’d dropped by with annoying, cryptic advice once in a while. I sort of liked him, but he was also aggravating—and scary, in a way that I had never known before. There was the sense of something . . . hideously absolute about him. Something that would not yield or change even if the universe itself was unmade. Standing in his presence, I always felt that I had somehow become so fragile that I might fly to dust if the archangel sneezed or accidentally twitched the wrong muscle.
Which, given the kind of power such a being possessed, was probably more or less accurate.
“All of this?” I asked, waving a hand generally, “was to lead me there? To that memory?”
“You had to understand.”
I eyed him and said wearily, “Epic. Fail. Because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Uriel tilted back his head and laughed. “This is one of those things that was about the journey, not the destination.”
I shook my head. “You . . . you lost me.”
“On the contrary, Harry: You found yourself.”
I eyed him. Then tore at my hair and said, “Arrrgh! Can’t you give me a straight answer? Is there some law of the universe that compels you to be so freaking mysterious?”
“Several, actually,” Uriel said, still clearly amused. “All designed for your protection, but there are still some things I can tell you.”
“Then tell me why,” I said. “Why do all this? Why sucker me into going back to Chicago? Why?”
“Jack told you,” Uriel said. “They cheated. The scale had to be balanced.”
I shook my head. “That office, in Chicago Between. It was yours.”
“One of them,” he said, nodding. “I have a great deal of work to do. I recruit those willing to help me.”
“What work?” I asked.
“The same work as I ever have done,” Uriel said. “I and my colleagues labor to ensure freedom.”
“Freedom of what?” I asked.
“Of will. Of choice. The distinction between good and evil is meaningless if one does not have the freedom to choose between them. It is my duty, my purpose in Creation, to protect and nourish that meaning.”
I narrowed my eyes. “So . . . if you’re involved in my death . . .” I tilted my head at him. “It’s because someone forced me to do it?”
Uriel waggled a hand in a so-so gesture and turned to pace a few steps away. “Force implies another will overriding your own,” he said over his shoulder. “But there is more than one way for your will to be compromised.”
I frowned at him, then said, with dawning comprehension, “Lies.”
The archangel turned, his eyebrows lifted, as though I were a somewhat dim student who had surprised his teacher with an insightful answer. “Yes. Precisely. When a lie is believed, it compromises the freedom of your will.”
“So, what?” I asked. “Captain Jack and the Purgatory Crew ride to the rescue every time someone tells a lie?”
Uriel laughed. “No, of course not. Mortals are free to lie if they choose to do so. If they could not, they would not be free.” His eyes hardened. “But others are held to a higher standard. Their lies are far deadlier, far more potent.”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“Imagine a being who was there when the first mortal drew the first breath,” Uriel said. Hard, angry flickers of light danced around us, notable even against formless white. “One who has watched