Author's Note: Hi! I just think it's fair to warn you, the reader, that the installments uploaded to this series will be few and very far between. See, I'm writing three other stories at the same time (they're equally as fun for me to write as this one, though a lot more difficult), starting a new job AND going to college. All of that pretty much puts fanfic at the very bottom of my to-do list, but the best I can do is promise that I will TRY to keep it coming.
"Hello. How are you?"
Bethany Sloane turned sharply in her seat to the little girl behind her. She was in her church, the same church she had gone to nearly every Sunday for over five years since moving to McHenry, Illinois.
The girl behind her was young, perhaps seven at the most. Bethany thought the girl had been talking to someone else, but they were alone in the sanctuary.
Bethany looked around, but couldn't see anyone. "Are you alone?"
"No one is alone here." The girl said.
Bethany smiled. "Yeah, yes, you're right about that. But where are your parents?"
"My parents aren't here, but an angel told me that the Father is in Heaven."
Bethany felt sorry for the girl. If her parents were gone, then who would take care of her?
The girl broke out into a big, toothy grin. "Don't be sorry. I'll be with Him soon enough."
"I don't understand what-"
"There you are!"
Both Bethany and the girl looked up to see a man jogging towards their pew from the church lobby. As he got closer, Bethany relaxed-he looked familiar, very familiar.
Clad in another suit and hoodie ensemble (though the color had changed once again, this time to a black suit and navy blue hoodie) and looking very relieved, was the Metatron.
The Metatron was not what he appeared; while Bethany and others may only have seen a man in a suit, he was actually a seraphim-an angel of the highest order and created by the Lord to act as the Voice.
He was humanity's only link to The Almighty, a beacon of hope, a protector, a being whose great powers were beyond the imagination; the Metatron was...
"Babysitting?"
Metatron stopped short to give Bethany the greatest scowl she had ever witnessed.
"No. I'm...um, assisting a friend in escorting." He said irritably as he slowed his jogging to a steady walk.
Bethany had grown used to him, over the past few months he had made the habit of visiting and comforting her. She knew what he truly was, but it was easy to forget.
The Metatron could be so human sometimes, despite never having been one.
He wasn't what one expected when they pictured an angel; Bethany herself was a little disappointed that when he first appeared to her he wasn't dressed in the pristine white robes, playing a harp or sporting a golden halo.
Then again, he didn't look so bad the way he was...
"Escorting?" She asked.
"Yes. I'm afraid that you've caught me at work, Bethany."
Bethany frowned a little. "What do you mean? Where are you taking her?"
The Metatron smoothed the wrinkles from his suit jacket and jutted his chin in the direction of the still smiling little girl. "One of my duties, in addition to communing with you lot, is to assist the Collector in escorting the innocents back home."
Bethany was beginning to understand. "You mean she's...?"
"Yes, she is. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have someone to meet, don't we Cara?"
The little girl nodded and got out of the pew and into the aisle, taking Metatron's outstretched hand. In an instant, they were gone and Bethany was left alone in the church.
When she arrived back home, she felt chilled to the bone. She went to the kitchen for a snack and caught her reflection in the hallway mirror. Her belly was growing large, she was eight months along now and as far as she knew, everything was going well-but suspicions and worries clouded her mind.
She thought back to the little girl, Cara, in the church. That girl had died recently, and Metatron was taking her to Heaven. Bethany knew the girl was in the best of hands, but just the same, her heart swelled with sorrow.
Cara had been someone's daughter.
Bethany rubbed her belly and started crying.
On the other side of the house, the Metatron appeared in her kitchen. His ever-changing outfit had morphed into a red suit with a light blue hoodie underneath. The angel looked around and called out, "Bethany?"
He received no answer, but he felt her presence within the house. She may have heard him but couldn't come right out to greet him, so he took the extra time to poke around a little. He'd always found mortal homes to be interesting, if a little silly.
Metatron thumbed through her books, magazines and records, but stopped once he heard a muffled whimper come from the direction of her bedroom. Dropping the copy of Allure he had been flipping through, he quickly went to her door.
"Bethany? Bethany, what's wrong?"
He could hear some shuffling on the other side of her door. "Metatron?"
"Well who else would it be? Now open up." He ordered her from the hallway.
Bethany wiped her eyes but knew that any attempt to make it appear that she had not been crying would be futile. As he had once reminded her, it was a sin to lie and an even greater sin to lie to a seraphim.
Especially if said seraphim just happens to be the father of your child.
Reluctantly, Bethany opened the door. Metatron's annoyed features softened instantly once he saw how upset she was. "Bethany, what's the matter?"
"It's just...Metatron, she was someone's daughter!" she broke down.
Metatron put his arms around her and let her cry. He led them to the bed where she sat down and he sat beside her. Soon, her crying stopped and Metatron could talk with her.
"Come on now, Bethany, why the tears?"
"She was just a little girl." Bethany said, wiping a fresh tear from her cheek.
"Who? Oh, Cara? Bethany, please, what's done is done-trust me, she'd be worse off if we were to let her live."
"What do you mean?"
"When someone lives longer than they're meant to, the soul remains trapped within the body, making the whole thing longer and more painful. This is the best thing for them." He said, shrugging.
"Will she be alright?"
"Of course, the apostle will no doubt show her the ropes. She's in the best of hands, believe me."
"Are you sure?" Bethany asked, feeling much better.
"Sure as I am that I'm an angel." He smirked.
"Then there's no doubt."
"Exactly, so no worries. What's been happening with you this week?" he asked, hoping to lighten the mood.
Bethany shrugged and went into the living room, drying her eyes. "Oh, you know, the usual. Paid my bills, watched TV, had lunch with Liz. Nothing spectacular, really."
Metatron sat across from her on the couch and resumed flipping through her magazine. "Well, it sounds like you've been having more fun than I have this week."
"What do you mean?" Bethany asked.
"Oh, you know, attempting to lead the masses, appearing to people who need the answers in life, and helping the Collector...do women really dress like this?" he asked, holding up the magazine to show her a photo from a fashion show.
Bethany smiled, "Only on special occasions...what's the Collector?"
"Hmm?" he asked absently as he browsed the celebrity gossip section.
"This Collector thing you keep talking about, what is it?"
The Metatron raised an eyebrow, "The Collector isn't an 'it'. The Collector is a very powerful angel, another seraphim. You know of the Grim Reaper?"
"He's real?"
"No, not really. That's just a character based on the Collector. She's not too fond of the likeness."
"The Collector's a girl angel?"
"She's the Angel of Death."
"Wow, so they do let women into high ranking positions in Heaven?"
"Serendipity's filled your head with all kinds of holy female oppression nonsense, hasn't she? Of course females are allowed power; the Collector is as powerful as I am." Metatron said.
"If she's so powerful, why did you need to help her tonight?"
"With Cara?"
"Yeah."
"Well, with the war on and all, she was a bit preoccupied over there. Plus with all of the other people dying around the world, she was spread a little thin. I volunteered to help since I was planning on visiting anyway."
"What's she like?"
"The Collector?"
Bethany nodded.
"She was created with the purpose to escort the souls back to paradise once their time comes. Quite the playful personality, despite her disposition. She's got a strange way of talking, but that's just how she was created. More interestingly though, she's got black wings."
"Black wings?" Bethany asked, surprised.
"Yeah, we call her Raven behind her back, she hates that nickname." Metatron mused.
"I thought angels had white wings."
"White? You know how impossible it would be to keep our wings white at all times? I can't even keep my clothes clean around you lot. We'd have to take a bath everyday!"
"There are baths in Heaven?"
"It's more like a small lake in the center of the seraphim gardens, but we take a soak in it every once in awhile to keep our wings clean. I'm due for a wash pretty soon myself, flying in your atmosphere does nothing for the feathers." He said, gesturing behind him to his wings, the feathers on the edges now a dark grayish color.
"It's hard to picture an angel in water."
Metatron smiled. "I'll show you my cannonball someday."
"And your wings don't get waterlogged?"
"No, it's a perk of being an angel."
"There seem to be a lot of those."
"You mortals don't have it so bad yourselves."
"Yeah right."
"I'm serious. Angels only exist to serve Her purpose, while you humans are allowed the luxury of choosing your own."
Bethany smiled and rubbed her belly. "Yeah, but we don't get wings."
"You'd just fly too close to the sun. The entire race would be gone in under a hundred years and we'd have to start the whole world all over again."
"So choosing our own purpose is our only perk of existence?"
"Well, that and your hair. Mortals have lovely hair."
"You have nice hair too, Metatron."
"Really? I thought the spikiness might be a little too young for the age I project."
"No, it looks fine and if I didn't know better I'd think that you were fishing for compliments." Bethany smirked at him.
"Sometimes a guy just wants to know that he looks his best." Metatron said as he ran a hand through his hair and fluffed his wings.
"Why? Thinking of taking the Angel of Death out to see a movie?"
"What? No! No, of course not."
"You're blushing."
"Silence mortal." Metatron commanded, his voice deep and echoing throughout her house with the same effect he had applied the first time they had met.
"You don't scare me, cut it out."
Metatron visibly deflated, his imposing presence vanished, but he still looked defensive. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't jump to such ridiculous conclusions. I was going to take you out tonight but now I don't think I will." He mock-pouted.
"Take me out where?"
"For a nice evening out, you haven't been out of the house much lately."
"Why Mr. Metatron, is this a date?"
Metatron frowned at her, still a little upset at her presumption about his feelings toward the Collector. "No, it's not, this is platonic. You should be so lucky as to get a date from me."
Bethany smiled, amused at his sulky behavior. "You'd move too fast for a good girl like me anyway."
Metatron smiled back at her. "Too true. I'd have given you the ride of a lifetime once, but if you recall, I'm no longer able."
"Meaning you were able to before?"
"Yes, all of us were at one time, but then She decided we were having a little too much fun on the job and remedied the problem quite effectively. Her twisted sense of humor."
"Wow, I'm sure that went over well."
"It started the Dark Ages. I miss their legs the most." Metatron said absently, lapsing into his own private reverie and staring off into space.
"Um...Metatron?" she asked, nudging him in the shoulder.
"What? Oh, yes. Here, come with me, we'll go for a walk."
"Where?"
"There's this lake I know of that looks just beautiful during sunset."
"There aren't any lakes around here."
"I know, that's why I'm going to bring you to it."
"And where is this lake?"
"Africa."
Next chapter coming soon! In fact I've already written it, I just want reviews for this one first. I never said I wasn't a glutton for praise. When I get 10 reviews for this chapter I'll post chapter three-fair enough? Love ya tymberwolf!