Chapter Four
Michael had to admit that the Lady Ella hadn't been completely wrong about the clothing. While he was perfectly warm and had been all along with his fur, he had to admit that the outfit he now wore was very comfortable and the fabrics humans wove had drastically improved since his last sojourn on earth. He had not expected everything to be so warm and fuzzy. And what colors! He liked the bright red. Back when he'd visited last, vibrant dyes had come from the rarest of flowers and been keenly expensive. It was a nice change of pace to be able to enjoy something that appealed to several of his senses.
And his tail, like his wings, passed easily through the fabric as he willed it, leaving him very comfortable over all.
He was less enthused to be shoved into a sack as the Lady Ella insisted he must be so they could take a horseless cart to the tavern. But then there would be ale and snacks, so it would get better.
Still, he did not like the close confines around him. Trying to get fresh air, Michael wriggled and stuck his snout out of the bag's top. A warm fingertip pushed on his nose, seeking to force him back down.
"I am the Sword. You can't banish me away, M'Lady."
Ella frowned at him. "Dude, shhh, we have three more blocks."
"I may yet suffocate."
She rolled her eyes and looked back to the front where the footman was driving the strange carriage forward. Michael wasn't completely sold on a conveyance that needed neither oxen nor horses. However, he had watched enough Roadkill Roulette videos, as the Lady Ella had called them, to accept such carriages would smoosh him flat—for now. Michael had to respect them.
But he did not have to like being trussed up so.
"Michael, you're not gonna suffocate. Can angels suffocate?"
"Of course not."
"See, then we only have like two blocks and—"
"Lady, look, I know you snuck a something in your bag in here. I am hoping for cat, but if you let it out in my car, I'm getting you banned from Uber. This isn't Wild Kingdom," the footman said, glaring into the mirror and back at both of them.
"I don't have anything," Ella said.
"I can see lumps moving in your bag."
"I am not lumpy!" Michael objected, sticking his full head out of the bag. "Apologize, unbelieving swine. I am an angel of the Lord."
Ella sighed heavily and stroked the top of his head. "He's totally harmless."
"I don't care what he is. If that thing shits in my car, you'll never hear the end of it," the footman grumbled, and Michael could feel the carriage pick up speed.
He slipped back into the bag since there was only a bit longer. "I would not do such a thing."
Ella patted the bag. "I know. I did vouch for you, bud."
"I would not defecate in this carriage."
"See, totally and—"
The carriage slammed to a stop and the footman pressed something that made a loud noise and Michael startled in his sack. "Get out, and consider me reporting you and your rat to Uber."
Lady Ella said something fast in Spanish and then picked up the bag again. "He's a raccoon."
Michael peeked out from the bag and nodded. "And you have been most uncouth, scoundrel."
"Get out!" the man shouted.
Ella grumbled more in Spanish and stepped from the carriage. He heard a fierce squeal and watched as the carriage bolted away into the throng of others going up and down both sides of the street. The Lady Ella set the bag down and he walked out on all fours.
"Remember all the Wobble vids? Don't go into the street, Mike."
He stood on his hind legs and eyed her. "Do you take me for a fool? I do not want to become flat, M'Lady."
"Or dead," she said, pulling the leash from the huge satchel where she carried all his clothes as well. The bag of toys was under her other arm. "Okay, my coworker allows a lot of stuff, but even he's probably gonna want you to be on your leash."
"This is most degrading."
She knelt and clipped it into place on the back of his harness. "Honestly, Michael, the leash is probably a lot less of a come down than being mauled by King Kong last night."
He nodded and considered her words. "This is true. I would very much like my body and all my powers back. Normally, I could slay dragons."
The Lady Ella gaped at him. "Dude, those are real?"
"I cannot promise you they are still around as a thousand years can be a long time." He got to all fours to follow her into this tavern of her friend's. "But someone had to train St. George. Who do you think did that, M'Lady?"
She shook her head. "You really are the weirdest hallucination."
Michael glared at her. "I'm real."
Ella paused long enough to push open the door. "Oh, I know. 950 people already liked the picture of you and your new outfit. I know you're here, and people can see you. Pretty sure there's a reason you only talk to me, and it's probably not a great one."
"You speak to Azrael. Perhaps Elohim are drawn to you."
"But you're probably not, um, real. I mean you literally are, but you're not the Archangel Michael and—"
Michael sat on his haunches. "You think you're mad?"
"No…okay yeah, but it wouldn't be the first time. And I have had the Olympics of job stress lately, and I don't know. You just…maybe I'm being weird. But, for what it's worth, while you're very high maintenance, you're nice too."
"And fluffy."
She smiled though her eyes looked very shiny even to him. "You really are but too skinny. Those raccoons really were bullies."
He nodded and lifted up his arms so she could pick him up. There were too many feet around him in the crowded tavern, and Michael did not relish being stepped on like a common cur. "They did not appreciate my glory."
She laughed and picked him up. He clung to her right side as she grabbed the toy bag with her left hand. "Yes, like I said, very acquired taste but pretty good. Also, Patrick better help me store all your loot because I'm not dragging this all over Lux."
He gripped her tightly as she brought him to the bar of the tavern. Michael was awed by human ingenuity. The place was massive and nicely cool despite the warm day outside. It was lit up with bright twinkling lights everywhere and flashing ones that strobed out into the dance floor. He was trying to grow accustomed to seeing harnessed lightning powering things instead of candles, but there was so much of it here and so many types of it. The club certainly lived up to its name.
Michael, as he settled onto the stool next to Lady Ella, also decided that human fashion had come further still than comfortable fabrics. The variety of attire was overwhelming. Men, more or less, tended to wear breeches and a top, though much nicer fabric than anything even kings before had owned. But the wenches…erm women were clad in so many things. Sometimes in dresses that seemed barely there at all, and Michael knew he'd seen more extensive under-garments while rolling in the hay with milk maids long ago.
"Oh, this is quite a lot," he squeaked out, waving his tail behind him.
"Yeah, he loves it over the top here, and it's way popular. I used to come here all the time a couple years ago. I was, uh, kind of having a fight with your dad."
"Why?"
"A friend of mine died and I just…I'd always been such a good Catholic, but for a while, I couldn't deal. I was always at Lux drinking and, uh, doing other things."
Michael swallowed hard as a woman with a particularly short, black dress walked by. "Yes, I can see how this tavern would supply you with many choices for other things, M'Lady."
She frowned down at him. "Dude, are you staring!"
"No, but wenches did not bare so much so publicly before. It is…distracting."
"Eyes ahead, short stuff," she said and then waved over to a young gent behind the bar. "Hey, Patrick! I have a huge order for you."
The barkeep approached slowly while eying him warily. Good. He was St. Michael after all; deference was to be expected. "You're so lucky you have the boss wrapped around your little finger."
"I am, but Michael's really nice. He won't do anything. But he's pretty hungry. Can we get one of every appetizer." She blushed. "Okay, also super long day shopping and I'd like some snacks too."
Patrick nodded. "But if the boss asks, Ella, this was all your idea."
Michael considered that as he set his little paws on the wood of the bar. "I did want sustenance too. Also, ale!"
Ella laughed. "Bring some water please."
"I would prefer ale," he squeaked indignantly.
The Lady Ella shook her head. "We'll both have a water and a Coca-cola. Please don't give him beer."
The barkeep gave Ella a long, confused looked before turning back towards the scullery. "Ella, I wouldn't get a raccoon drunk if you paid me. Just make sure he doesn't mess the place up."
"Thanks!" she said perkily.
Michael grumbled under his breath. "I could have handled an ale. I've been quenching my thirst that way for centuries."
"You're a very mortal raccoon," she pointed out. "You probably shouldn't have ale." She frowned. "Honestly, if you weren't a raccoon and had been living on old Chinese food and pizza crusts, I probably wouldn't have ordered you buffalo chicken strips and fried mozzarella either."
"But you did. Perhaps ale later?" He flicked his little whiskers for her and wibbled his lower lip. Michael had learned already that the Lady Ella found him cute. It had made it very hard for her to deny him any toys so far.
"Probably not, little dude."
"I am not little! I am the Angel of Fear—"
"You keep saying that," she added, smiling even as the barkeep set water, a dark liquid, and a bright red drink also just for the lady in front of them. "Patrick! That's so awesome. Thanks for the bonus Shirley Temple."
"Just keep your little friend sedate, and we'll be square. Some of your appetizers will start coming out soon…I just got you extra chips and guac instead of onions though," he said, looking toward Michael. "I don't think he can handle the blooming onion thing."
"I can handle any hazard!" Michael squeaked. He stood up in his chair and waved his good front paw to emphasize his point.
The barkeep looked him over again, jaw dropped, and then shook his head. "No, nope. If it's weird at Lux, that's just another Tuesday. I am not acknowledging the weird, nope."
With that, he turned back to serve the other revelers.
Ella shrugged and picked a small…something from her red drink, that Shirley Temple. It was like a small knife, perhaps? He wasn't sure, but it had managed to stab through a cherry and a bit of other fruits too. She took her time with the cherry. Pulling it off the mini knife and biting into it. Then, the Lady Ella chomped into the rest of the fruit pieces. She still held the stem of the cherry and set it in her mouth too, even as she set her tiny knife on the bar between them.
Michael turned from whatever she was doing with the stem to the tiny knife because while it was made of a substance he did not recognize—surely he had never seen a bright pink one before—it was also modeled like a miniscule scabbard. Leaning over, Michael picked it up. It wasn't an optimum fit for his left front paw, but it was at least a weapon again.
He made a few swipes with his new sword and then looked towards the Lady Ella. "En guarde, Ella!"
Michael highlighted his point by lunging forward with his sword but stopping far from her shoulder.
She laughed and stuck out her tongue. Awed, Michael watched as she pulled the cherry stem—now knotted tightly—from the tip. "Show and tell, huh? You do a mean sword thrust, Sir Rascal. I give you that, buddy. You like my cherry stem trick? I can tie knots in them. Takes a few minutes, but it's kind of fun at parties."
Michael quirked his head at her. "I think you may yet prove to be a witch, M'Lady. You can understand me perfectly, and you have many skills. I say this as a compliment. Surely, you are no ordinary wench."
"First, I'm a woman, perfectly good word, dude. Second, thanks…I think, but I'm boringly average…except for apparently the raging case of schizophrenia I have going on."
"Is it a useful thing?" he asked, sitting back down but clutching his sword tightly in his left paw.
"It's why I'm talking to you now."
"Then it is most fortunate for both of us."
"I dunno. I'm probably super loca right now, Mike."
"You are not. I am real. And you asked earlier about what an Angel of Fear is. I mean, each of us has a power Father gave us, something special. My twin can control desires—"
The Lady Ella frowned at him. "What?"
Michael rolled his eyes. "As if that is so special. Humans have many desires; you are not as disciplined as we angels and oh that smells delicious!"
He meant to finish his thoughts, truly he did, but then a huge tray of irresistible food was delivered to his corner of the bar by that Patrick fellow. It was piled high with treats Michael could not and did not recognize, but it all smelled amazing. He reached into the pile and pulled out a piece of chicken—it smelled mostly like chicken—and bit into it.
"This is most excellent and…oh!"
The witch! This was a trick. The juicy chicken was also spicy and Michael coughed before he could bring his cup of water to his face and drain half of it.
"This was too much. I do not like this fire chicken."
"Those, dude, are hot wings."
"I am not a fan," he said. Instead, he reached for the long, tubular thing that smelled of cheese and bit into that. While he was not used to cheese so warm it dripped from his muzzle as he ate it, he decided this was exceptional. The ingenuity of humanity could not be overstated. "Now this is a meal fit for a demigod."
"So no to buffalo sauce but yay to cheese sticks. I'll make a list," she said, biting into those foul chicken tricks.
"Yes, thank you, M'Lady. You are most helpful."
"Yes, well, I always wanted to be a raccoon's secretary. It was a total life goal."
"I am the Archangel Michael, and you should be so honored, Lady Ella."
She snorted and took a sip of her drink. "Right, totally honored, Rascal."
"Anyway, Lady Ella, my brother controls desire. I have another who can slow time. My sister Gabriel can go to any realm or universe she wishes. I control fear."
She blinked at him. "We are so circling back to 'desire' later."
"It is flashy, but I am stronger."
"Okay, so you can make people scared of things? Like point to Patrick, and boom! He's now scared of clowns forever?"
Michael wibbled his muzzle in offense. "Nothing so gauche. I cannot instill or create fears, but I can reveal them. I am able to read off someone what they fear and then use that knowledge against them. But I do not make people afraid. I…my siblings thought I could do that, but I cannot. I just reveal truths. It is, in its way, a reflection or a compliment to what my twin does. Most people don't mind having their desires revealed, but they hate you if you show them what they fear."
He felt a giant hand on his weak shoulder.
"Michael, that sounds…lonely." Ella said finally, frowning down at him.
"It was good though because it serves Father well. I have used it to achieve great results on the field of battle. I have brought dragons and demons to their knees with my power. It is needed."
"Do you like it?"
Michael sighed and reached for the dark, almost black drink and sipped it. He sneezed a little at the way it tickled his nose oddly. It wasn't what he expected, but he did like it overall. "I…it was important."
Her fingers found his good ear, the one not newly stitched back together, and scratched him. It was quite possibly the best thing Michael had ever felt, and he had to fight not to let his tongue loll out. That would be undignified for a knight as noble as he was.
"'Do you like it?' is a different question, Michael."
"No one likes it. I…I could tell you exactly all you fear right now, M'Lady, but if I did, you'd know that I know too much about you, even if I only understand parts of it, and you would despise me. I…I do not wish for that."
"I…what do you see?" Her fingers did not stop scratching his ear.
"You were hurt badly. Some bastard tried to choke the life out of you, but you are strong and smart and very brave, and you stopped him. He has been taken away by the constabulary, but you still fear him and his release. You also fear you are mad, that Azrael and I are figments of an addled mind, but I swear I am not." He quirked his head at her. "You fear you are a bad person, but I cannot see how that is possible. You have been my savior so far, M'Lady, and for that I am grateful."
The Lady Ella stopped stroking his head and, again, her eyes grew so shiny, and Michael could feel it (even if he didn't want to), he could feel her terror. But not at him. Not even at this Pete creature whom Michael already loathed.
No, she was scared of herself, and Michael wasn't sure yet how to quell that fear within her, but he desperately wanted to.
"Oh Michael, I—"
"Miss Lopez, I know I said you could do anything you wanted and have no cover charge at Lux, but why you insist on bringing strange pets here, I cannot fathom. I suppose I'm quite fortunate, hermanita, that you've brought this fuzzy mess and not the chicken Miranda here."
Michael stilled.
He knew that tone. How could he not? He knew that ridiculous affected accent as well from the times he'd helped Amenadiel shoo his twin back to Hell. He turned and looked over Ella's shoulder. Then, he grabbed his weapon, clutched it tightly, and thrust it toward the Devil.
"Samael! Don't you dare harm this fine, young lady. She has no trek with the damned, nor should she."
His twin—bedecked in clearly the finest of silks even for this age—eyed him. And did not recognize him. "Miss Lopez, you trained your hen to play the keyboard. Are you training your rat to sword fight?"
"Luce, he's a raccoon and wait what?" She poked on Michael's bad shoulder. "What did you just say?"
His twin watched both of them keenly, but the bulk of his focus was on Ella and it looked pained, which was odd because Michael had never known Samael to care about anyone but himself. After all, he'd torn heaven asunder for his own glory and power. Or tried to gain power. But now he looked sad, as if he was as worried for the Lady Ella as Michael was.
"This is my twin Samael. He is Satan, and he will not take you to Hell. I swear it, Lady Ella. En guarde!" Michael thrust his sword forward again, directly at the bright red swath of cloth over the Devil's heart. "Fight me, Brother!"
"Miss Lopez, dearie me, but is your raccoon all right? He seems…confused."
"You can't hear him?" she asked.
"He is squeaking quite a bit, but was that supposed to mean something to me?" Samael asked.
Michael was tired of such a pathetic charade. If Sam were here, then he had to be part of the reason that Michael was currently in such a sad state. "You can hear me, Samael. Admit it!"
He swiped up with his sword and poked at his twin's neck. The small sword did not cut, but it was all Michael currently had, save for his claws.
…and his wings.
Of course!
He sprouted his wings right there and let them go bladed.
"You will deal with me now, won't you, Sam?" he said, flapping hard to get in the air.
Samael looked between him and his, all right, small wings and Lady Ella. "Miss Lopez, what is your pet's name?"
"Michael."
"I…bring him up to my penthouse; I think we may have quite a few notes to trade with one another."
"I…are you the Devil?" she asked, clutching Michael around his waist.
He didn't want to be forced to be in her grip, but then again, she felt so nice when she paid attention to him. Michael made the compromise of unblading but not sheathing his wings away.
"Samael, you have more explaining to do than I do," he said.
Sam, for all his arrogance and bullshit, looked him squarely in the eye and burst out laughing. "Oh, Brother, what have you gotten yourself into. I think I rather prefer you this way."
Samael reached out and poked at his nose, and, deeply offended, Michael bit him.
"Ouch! You wretch!" Samael snapped, taking the red cloth from his pocket and wrapping it around his bleeding finger.
Michael chittered angrily at Sam. "It's your fault! I know! Change me back."
Ella patted his head, and he calmed. A bit. "He thinks you did this to him."
"I didn't, but he better not be like a werewolf. If I have caught rodent, I'll be quite put out."
"Shove it, Samael."
Ella chuckled and settled him on her hip. "Can you have someone bring up our things?"
"He has things?" Sam asked, blinking at them both.
Ella gestured to the bag of toys and his clothes. "So much and the food sent up? We both had a big day. I mean, I think that's fair. You spent…oh…years being a big, old mentiroso and lying about being the actual, literal Devil to me. You can get someone to make sure all my stuff gets to the penthouse, right?"
And he had never seen Samael shrink before anyone, let alone a mortal, but he did for this one, and honestly, Michael was not surprised. The Lady Ella had that effect on him as well.
"Very well, Miss Lopez. Now," he said, gesturing across the expanse of the tavern. "After you, my dear, and your pest."
"He's your twin!"
"He's trouble."
Michael snorted even as he curled against Ella's hip. "It's a trait we both share, I'm afraid, M'Lady. But fear not! I shall protect you."
The Lady Ella laughed as they walked to another electric box and walked into it. "No offense, dude, but I don't think you and a cocktail sword are going to save me from anything."
"I am a most fierce swordsman."
Samael laughed heartily. "I doubt you're going to best me, Brother, like that."
"I'll bite you again, cur!"
Ella sighed and settled between him and Samael. "Be good, both of you. I am not working to keep Michael from biting you all the time."
"That mongrel wants to bite me again?" Sam asked, bringing his non-bleeding hand to his chest.
Michael bared his teeth to him. "Always, Samael. Always."
"I…do keep standing between us, Miss Lopez; I rather appreciate it."
And after that, they rode in complete silence to his twin brother's quarters.
