and it’s not long before my desire to understand trumps the fear blossoming in my chest.
Why are they here?
I sit up. Dried grass has woven itself into my hair, itching my face and neck, but I can’t make myself care. Before me the world is in sharp focus, and I see it all with celestial eyes.
Damien faces my direction, hovering about thirty feet off the ground. He’s armed with his scimitar, but he is small compared to the angel opposite him. Virtue stands on the ground, between Damien and me. Silver light is thrown about, reflecting off his body and his wings, but he’s not nearly as bright as he was in the graveyard.
His wings continue to play, the dagger-like blades moving back and forth, a symphony on his back. I look at Damien, at the ridiculous scimitar shaking in his blackened hand, and I know: he’s no match for Virtue.
Damien must know this as well. He flies backward several paces, and Virtue turns toward me. Thousands of blades stand at attention, aimed now at Damien. Virtue’s white eyes rest on me, compelling me to speak.
“Your song,” I say. “It’s beautiful.”
He steps toward me, dazzling in his splendor. My eyes water, but I brush the tears away, refusing to close my eyes on him.
“Not nearly so beautiful as yours.”
I choke. He’s obviously never heard me sing.
“Believe me, child. It’s the song of the Redeemed that terrifies darkness. It’s your song, not mine.”
The idea that I, all emotion and fear and confusion, could terrify my enemy—could terrify Darkness—seems senseless.
“I don’t terrify anyone.”
“Oh, but you do. Only humans can know the joy of being redeemed. Of being lost and then found. It is your song that reminds the Prince of Darkness that he’s already been defeated. That the day will come when even Abaddon won’t be able to protect him from the light he’s rejected.”
Virtue’s words are a salve in my mind and in my heart, and though I’ve no idea how a song can help me now, I’d stand and talk to him forever if I could. But above Virtue’s strong chin, his smile turns hard and thin. He glances over his shoulder at Damien and then back at me.
“I’ve not been given authority to destroy this one,” his mind says to mine, “and I have my own assignment to complete. But remember well what I have told you.”
I think about nodding or saying okay or something equally insufficient, but in the end I just stand there and watch. He squats, his enormous legs flexing and shoving him into the air. The sky looks almost neon against the imposing hoards above. Virtue’s wings beat against it, releasing music and lightning that tear across the expanse. Even the closest of the demons—still miles away—skitter for cover, their strange forms melding like waves into sinking sand.
Virtue flies off to the north, his silver light going with him. I stare at the demonic forces above and watch their lines re-form.
The song of an angel.
That’s all it took to frighten hundreds. To scatter them.
I see the enemy in a new way. As frightened children. Terrified of what we’ll see. And of what we’ll do with the knowledge it brings.
God’s children are stronger than we know.
I’ve lost track of Damien, but with each passing minute he concerns me less. What concerns me most is not the army above or the demon using me as bait for Jake. What concerns me most is that of the three of us—Kaylee, Dad, and me—I’m the only one with a song.
A redeemed song.
I’m the only one who can fight against our enemies.
The thought starts me trembling again, and I turn away from the demonic ranks high above and storm up the stairs. The moment I cross the threshold, the Celestial implodes before me and I’m left with only our living room in shades of brown and blue.
Dad is conscious. He’s propped against his La-Z-Boy, Kaylee wrapping an Ace bandage around his head. I drop in front of him, shoving aside displaced cords and what looks like the corner of the television.
“Time to talk, Dad.”
He stops moaning and blinks back at me. Kaylee chews her lip, but her hands are steady, her eyes dry. I hate that I’ve put her in this situation, hate it. But the only thing I can do now is make sure she can fight.
But Dad first.
My gaze is unflinching, and to my great surprise he looks embarrassed.