says, picking a pinecone off
the ground and rolling it in his hands. “But that is beside the point. When I was much
younger than I am now, I felt I had to compete with my brothers for my Father’s
affections. I was one of the Firsts, which meant I had brothers to compete with, or so
I thought. Things were much different then. We were young. Cocky. We thought we
could do it all, or at least my brothers and I did. Father was strict in his rules, and we
acted out as much as possible, specifically because a time came when it appeared he
loved his humans more than he loved us. That was not the case, of course, but we
were his sons and we worshipped the ground he walked on, so it was easy to get
jealous. Metatron above everyone else, though. There’s something about being the
actual first. In essence, he was the only because he was the first. Gabriel, David,
Raphael, and I couldn’t help but feel inferior to Metatron, who seemed to have
Father’s favor above the rest of ours, seemed to have his ear more than the rest of us.
But then Metatron was gone.”
“Where did he go?” I can’t help but ask. I am unsure what this has to do with
me, but it seems important that I listen. “Did he fall?”
“It would seem so,” Michael says as he stands. “No one really knows for sure
how or why, and Father would not say. If I had to guess, I would say he was cast
out.”
I feel cold. “Is that what happened to Cal?” I whisper.
Michael looks at me sharply. “No. And please don’t misinterpret what I am
saying as that. No, Calliel is… something else entirely. He is no longer part of a
design, the pattern. Something has shifted and I don’t know what it is. I don’t know
what my Father has planned for Calliel, or why he is testing him like he is. I was not
being facetious when I said that Father likes his games. He does, as I am sure the
history of humanity could tell you. But he is not cruel, at least not intentionally. He
believes all beings should have to prove themselves. I don’t know why he’s picked
Cal. Or you.” He pauses. “Or your father, it would seem.”
Nausea rolls over me in waves. “I don’t understand.”
“Nor do I,” Michael admits as we resume our slow pace toward Little House.
“Fathers are mysterious creatures, are they not? We may not always understand their
motives, or even agree with the choices they make, but we love them just the same
for all that they are.”
“My father…,” I start but the lump in my throat stops me from finishing. “Was the greatest man in the world?” Michael says kindly. It’s like he can read
my thoughts. For all I know, he can.
I nod.
“Most sons think that. I could say the same about my own, but the comparison
isn’t fair for either of us. I do not know this Big Eddie, and you don’t know my
Father. Not in the way I do.”
“Does your father love you?” I ask.
Michael smiles. “Oh yes. I should think so.”
“Does he love Cal? And me?”
“Yes, child. He does.”
We reach Little House, and I can’t help but notice the way Michael reaches out
and strokes the wooden railing on the porch, a loving caress. This only fuels my
anger. It seems wrong for him to touch what my father made, though I don’t know
why.
“Then why must we suffer? Why does he hurt us every single day? Why did he
let Calliel fall and take his memories? Why is he allowing it to kill him while he
stays here? Why did he allow my father to die? Why does he have to take everything
I love if he’s supposed to love me?” My words are harsh by the end
Michael doesn’t flinch. “You can’t know,” he says quietly, “how much you truly
love something until it’s gone.”
“That’s not fair,” I say as I tremble.
“No one said it would be. He tests you, Benji, and he tests Calliel for a
supremely simple reason. You are tested because if you aren’t, how could you know
what you believe in?”
I can’t do it. I can’t get into a philosophical debate with an archangel, knowing
how ridiculous it is and how unprepared I am. Not to mention I’m too angry to listen
to what his words actually mean. I go in a different direction. “You touched the
sheriff. Just like you touched Cal.”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what happened to my father?”
“Bits and pieces.”
“Tell me.”
He sighs. “Benji, how are you supposed to know love if the answers are given