Superiors chatting
As Janus rolled up to Michael's tent he was greeted with "Oh, not you too!" This was an uncharacteristically unfriendly greeting from his older brother, who showed not a hint of a jest in the words.
"Why are you so irritated, Michael."
"Just got a visit from one of Blandine's people, raving about keeping secrets and Indian gifts, and on and on.
And the worst part?" Between the lines he saw part of the problem was that Michael couldn't fight this, had to simply talk it out with... "The message included an insinuation that I was hiding truths from her by not speaking to her personally. Through a messenger." Michael was in a fine mood indeed.
"Indian gifts? What?" Janus eyed his sword invitingly, and Michael considered whether that would take the edge off his anger, and whether that was wise. The two angels circled each other, deciding whether combat was an answer or a distraction.
"The Dylan brothers. One of the cadre of spies we found."
"You mean the guys I nearly poached for myself? And may yet?"
"The very ones. One of them has been dragged into the Marches, and Blandine seems to think their prior history had something to do with it. As if Spies himself...!!!"
Janus swung his sword, punctuating his verbal cutting-off. "Nobody trusts Spies, except you and Dominic. It's one of the Host's finer jokes."
"So that's what was so funny..." he didn't need to mention Asmodeus, knew that Janus knew about their little beer and darts sessions. "Still, how far to take this? Take the surgical approach and risk losing the guy? Marc was right you know. Those soldiers have a union. I let one down, we all have to deal with all of them. And Spies, and Corat, who is just so recently made whole again. Ugly, ugly."
"He's not the only one. You should hear Khalid. He's thinking of giving up his Bright, for her sake."
Janus blinked, and nearly got whacked with a sword. He just stood there. "You're serious?" Michael nodded, and Janus resumed combat.
Somewhere in San Francisco, Corat was looking for an ass to kick, to complete the rite. Unfortunately his phone kept ringing, and he couldn't just let it. He wondered briefly if Zadkiel had an opening... or if Glen would loan him one of his conquests.
Michael listened to his servitor, grateful that its messenger was an Ofanite. They could talk fast. "So there's an ethereal loose in L.A. So why don't I bend Laurence's ear and put together a two-pronged attack."
"Because he would veto it."
"Would he? Why is that?"
"Because a frontal attack on the Marches invites the two lovers into mutual annihilation. And a frontal attack on L.A. is not only a potential loss but it begs the other side to counterattack. Which begins a war that breaks open our secrets and kills a couple billion human beings in the process."
Michael smirked. It was not a pretty thing.
"Michael! It is not that time and you know it!"
"Do I?"
"There are signs. They are not there."
"What if somebody killed Gabriel? Then the signs would never be there...would that change the day or the hour?"
Janus' eyes grew wide. "Much as I enjoy the idea of wiping the slate clean, brother, you know this is wrong." It's clear Michael's entertaining the thought, so Janus puts his full weight and speed into the attack. It pulled him out of his reverie a minute. "And if--big if--this full-scale war happens and it's not the time, and demons and angels weaken each other and the human race, what is left?"
"Dreams."
"Ethereals." They said it in unison. It was a brilliant plan, if they were right, or maybe just an extraordinarily lucky one. But luck was with them too. A passing angel caught a snippet of their conversation and added in one more thought.
"Remember Uriel."
"Why are you so irritated, Michael."
"Just got a visit from one of Blandine's people, raving about keeping secrets and Indian gifts, and on and on.
And the worst part?" Between the lines he saw part of the problem was that Michael couldn't fight this, had to simply talk it out with... "The message included an insinuation that I was hiding truths from her by not speaking to her personally. Through a messenger." Michael was in a fine mood indeed.
"Indian gifts? What?" Janus eyed his sword invitingly, and Michael considered whether that would take the edge off his anger, and whether that was wise. The two angels circled each other, deciding whether combat was an answer or a distraction.
"The Dylan brothers. One of the cadre of spies we found."
"You mean the guys I nearly poached for myself? And may yet?"
"The very ones. One of them has been dragged into the Marches, and Blandine seems to think their prior history had something to do with it. As if Spies himself...!!!"
Janus swung his sword, punctuating his verbal cutting-off. "Nobody trusts Spies, except you and Dominic. It's one of the Host's finer jokes."
"So that's what was so funny..." he didn't need to mention Asmodeus, knew that Janus knew about their little beer and darts sessions. "Still, how far to take this? Take the surgical approach and risk losing the guy? Marc was right you know. Those soldiers have a union. I let one down, we all have to deal with all of them. And Spies, and Corat, who is just so recently made whole again. Ugly, ugly."
"He's not the only one. You should hear Khalid. He's thinking of giving up his Bright, for her sake."
Janus blinked, and nearly got whacked with a sword. He just stood there. "You're serious?" Michael nodded, and Janus resumed combat.
Somewhere in San Francisco, Corat was looking for an ass to kick, to complete the rite. Unfortunately his phone kept ringing, and he couldn't just let it. He wondered briefly if Zadkiel had an opening... or if Glen would loan him one of his conquests.
Michael listened to his servitor, grateful that its messenger was an Ofanite. They could talk fast. "So there's an ethereal loose in L.A. So why don't I bend Laurence's ear and put together a two-pronged attack."
"Because he would veto it."
"Would he? Why is that?"
"Because a frontal attack on the Marches invites the two lovers into mutual annihilation. And a frontal attack on L.A. is not only a potential loss but it begs the other side to counterattack. Which begins a war that breaks open our secrets and kills a couple billion human beings in the process."
Michael smirked. It was not a pretty thing.
"Michael! It is not that time and you know it!"
"Do I?"
"There are signs. They are not there."
"What if somebody killed Gabriel? Then the signs would never be there...would that change the day or the hour?"
Janus' eyes grew wide. "Much as I enjoy the idea of wiping the slate clean, brother, you know this is wrong." It's clear Michael's entertaining the thought, so Janus puts his full weight and speed into the attack. It pulled him out of his reverie a minute. "And if--big if--this full-scale war happens and it's not the time, and demons and angels weaken each other and the human race, what is left?"
"Dreams."
"Ethereals." They said it in unison. It was a brilliant plan, if they were right, or maybe just an extraordinarily lucky one. But luck was with them too. A passing angel caught a snippet of their conversation and added in one more thought.
"Remember Uriel."