Chapter 24

Flames licked and danced along the deep green bay leaves without burning through them. I found myself on a rocky desert plain; various hues of browns and yellows extended to the horizon. Above, the sky was cloudless. Heat brought prickles of sweat to my body, and the air was still. The crackling snaps of the fire were the only sound.

Michael stood in the center of the shrub. Like wax, flesh dripped from his body, sizzling and spitting in the fire. His expression was sad, yet peaceful. Michael's hands stretched open in supplication; his posture reminded me of Joan of Arc at the stake. Light, as sharp as a laser beam, punched through the skin over his heart. Tears of pain and joy evaporated in the heat 'I am, who I am.' "

"No," I cried, watching Michael's body tumble into seven pieces. "Don't go!"

Swallowing his flesh, the fire popped with joy. A hiss from the bush seemed to say, "We love you."

"No!" The coolness of the air startled me, and I blinked. The houselights were up, and people moved through rows and rows of plush seats. The curved vaulted ceilings bounced the sound of voices around the hall until the noise jumbled together into a pleasant and excited thrum. Carved columns supported the proscenium arch of the stage. A crew of people were busily setting up podiums and positioning LINK-sensory camera connections.

I blinked again, even though part or me knew I wouldn't see him, I whispered, "Michael?"

"Deidre, darling!" A tall Asian woman waved at me from the central aisle. Her bobbed haircut bounced around heavy dream-catcher earrings as she made her way up the row of seats to where I stood under the balcony – blinking and bewildered.

Reaching me, the woman gave me a measured look through long lashes. Her dress was tie-dyed and shimmered under the houselights. Putting her hands on her narrow hips, she frowned at my trench coat. "You're a little underdressed, honey, but it'll have to do."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" I looked past the woman to the stage, where workers were adding velvet drapes to the podiums. The chill of the theater's air-conditioning reminded me of the absence of a hot desert sun; even the bright stage lights lacked heat.

"I'm Ariel," the woman said, startling me by dropping her voice an octave. "The archangel Uriel. I'm here with some boys I think you know."

She pointed to the edge of the stage. In a turban and tux, Jibril's dark features stood out in the crowd. Raphael nodded in agreement to something Jibril said. "Where's Michael?" I asked.

"Oh, the poor lost lamb. He's ..." Ariel's smile crumpled at the edges. "Let's just say, karmically, he couldn't make a return trip ... just yet."

"Karma?" I looked Ariel up and down. "So, what are you? Buddhist or something?"

The tips of her black bob swished, and her earrings shook to and fro. Her smile showed crooked, masculine teeth. "Honey, do I look like a bodhisattva to you?"

I shrugged, moving out of the way as a couple stepped into the hall to find their seats.

"Well, I am. In the flesh, as it were," she said with a broad wink.

I nodded, but I wasn't really listening to her. "Michael is gone for good, isn't he?"

Dark lipstick became a sharp line. "I like to think positively, you know, PPT: 'Power of Positive Thinking' and all that," she said. Lightly taking hold of my elbow, she herded me into the hall. "The boys like to obsess on the Old Testament – all that flooding and Sodom's destruction – but don't listen to them; it'll only raise your blood pressure. I believe, ultimately, that whatever higher power there might be is a forgiving, loving entity. You have to trust in it."

I made the appropriate uh-huh noises, but I was thinking of Michael consumed by the holy fire. I would never see the Michael I knew again, I was sure of it. If there was one thing Michael forced me to appreciate, it was that our flesh defines us. Even if he came back, he would not be in the same form; I had lost him.

The boys, as Ariel had called them, seemed to know it, too. Raphael's eyes watched mine warily, sympathetically. Jibril shook his head sadly, and said, "It's the final hour, Deidre. Are you ready?"

I nodded solemnly, not trusting myself to speak yet.

"Spirit never dies," Ariel said, her breezy manner abandoned momentarily. "Like energy it can neither be destroyed nor created, only transformed."

I turned away to watch the stage. The podiums and cameras were in place, and the crew had left the stage. A hush permeated the concert hall, which was filled to capacity. Nearly everyone had taken a seat. "Do you know what time it is?" I asked Raphael.

"Six on the dot," he said.

The lights dimmed, and a young man stepped out onto the stage. Clearing his throat nervously, he said, "Reverend Letourneau's plane has been delayed."

The crowd rippled with disapproval.

"It should only be a matter of minutes," the nervous aide assured the audience. "Rabbi-Senator Grey has nobly offered to begin with his opening remarks."

From where we stood, I could see the senator standing behind a heavy velvet traveler curtain. Like his name, his hair and beard were a steely gray. Though his body was trim and athletic, he looked at least sixty, perhaps older. Even from a distance, I could see the sharp glitter of his eyes; he looked meaningfully at the four of us, as though he understood the significance of our presence.

The crowd rumbled again. Like a roll of thunder, the noise started in the far end of the hall, growing louder and angrier as it moved up the rows.

"It's starting," I murmured, watching as the back row staggered to their feet. The maliciousness of Letourneau's plan made me laugh. "That bastard. LINK-Michael will cause a riot, and then some stand-in for Letourneau will show up just in time to pretend to calm the beast, making it look like Letourneau saved the day. Clever. Evil, but clever."

"What should we do?" Raphael asked.

"Keep the rabbi from physical harm," I said, pointing at Grey. "I'm going to see if I can distract the LINK-angel before any damage gets done."

The angels leapt up onto the stage as one. They made a strange sight: Muslim in turban and tux; Israeli Jew in full military uniform; and Asian New Age drag queen striding purposefully toward where Grey waited in the wings. To his credit, Grey seemed unafraid.

Security met the angels halfway across the stage, but was quickly distracted by the possessed audience swelling toward the podiums.

I settled into a crouch in the corner where the stage met the wall. Attaching the filament to my receiver, I entered the uniform.

Page? I scanned the uniform's contents for the AI.

Here, the page said, popping into view. Still the small mouse, his avatar looked rested. His whiskers quivered, testing the air. What's going on out there?

Michael has ... I choked at the mention of his name, my mouth drying like a desert plain. I swallowed my grief, and started over. The LINK-angel has been released. I'm going to try to stop it.

The mouse shook his head, and this tail quivered in fear. What are you going to do, Dee?

I sighed, but squared my shoulders. I don't really know. I'm hoping it will come to me.

The mouse icon blinked. A shake of its furry head transformed the mouse into a human image, with a face full of bewilderment. That's your grand plan? It'll come to me? Great. We're screwed.

You have a better idea?

The page's face scrunched up in thought. He was silent for mere seconds, and I wondered how many scenarios the page was able to run in that time. How about a blackout?

Can you do that?

I have access to Mouse's power connections, but I can't affect anything in the physical world.