Author's note: If there's any folks reading this who have Spotify, I've been building a little playlist along with this, which you can find here: http: /open. spotify. com/user/kamikaze-tryst/playlist/1Sx34d3how5YUe6jjGDl99 (Don't forget to take out the spaces; for some reason doesn't show URLs unless you break them up.) Also, Jenny and Eli are not my characters. They belong to my darlin' Lily Fox, and you can find out more about them here: http: /lily-fox. deviantart. com/gallery/6632531
Gabriel slept soundly that night, up on the balcony above the front door, where the moonlight filtered through the massive, circular window, bathing him in a kaleidoscope of colour as he leaned his back against the wall below it. His broad chest served as a pillow for Audrey, who lay between his legs, surrounded by the warmth of his burly arms. The stone cathedral wasn't the toastiest of buildings, Gabriel had found before having to borrow a pew cushion to sit on, rather than the cold, hard floor.
They'd kept themselves to themselves, despite the considerable number of refugees camping out there. Neither of them having been in the mood for anything but hitting the hay, Gabriel had turned more than a few heads by carrying them both up among the grandeur of the architecture and laying them to rest behind the marble balustrade.
When Audrey awoke from her gratifyingly dreamless slumber, Gabriel was still fast asleep. She inclined her head to watch him for a while, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart and pacing her own breathing to match the rise and fall of his torso. The morning light streamed through the prismatic glass overhead, causing shards of spring green and yellow to fall across his handsome features. His rounded cheeks were harmonically contradictory to his square, masculine jaw, and they gave him the most enchanting mouth that dipped in at the corners like tiny acorn cups.
Below, she could hear the sounds of people talking as the residents of the cathedral undoubtedly gossiped over their arrival. Careful not to stir him, she extracted herself from Gabriel's embrace and got up to look out from the gallery.
The priest was talking to the sheriff in the apse, right at the opposite end of the building, while the woman who had accompanied them at the door swung her arm around on the steps up to the chancel, playing with the biggest Mastiff Audrey had ever seen. Several people were on their knees before them, heads bowed in prayer, and even more were surreptitiously pointing up at Gabriel through the banister.
She looked from left to right, searching for a way down; both ends of the balcony led to darkened doorways. Pulling herself up, she took the one on the right, which led to a circular room with a spiral staircase leading down, and large ropes attached to three giant, dusty bells suspended overhead. The tower was poorly lit, and she slid her hands along the stone wall as she descended, to steady her footing.
As she stepped back out into the light, the ambient chatter died away, and she found herself facing what seemed like an ocean of curious, expectant faces. She recoiled a little, wishing she'd waited to come downstairs until Gabriel was awake. A middle-aged man limped forward to stand with a lady who appeared to be his wife; a young mother pulled her toddler up into her arms from the pew he where he lay, his head and wrist wrapped in slightly red-stained bandages. Audrey swallowed hard to level out the rising lump in her throat, and wrung her dampening hands.
What was she supposed to tell them? Surely they'd want to know what the hell was going on; how could she tell them that in fact, it wasn't Hell, but Heaven that brought this destruction upon them? That it was God's own high and mighty heartlessness that had gotten this little boy so badly hurt?
From somewhere towards the back, someone finally spoke, but their words were not directed at her. A familiar, rosy-bronze face came into view, smooth and striking as her rich, sumptuous voice.
"Come on now, guys. Back off," she ordered as she and her giant of a dog approached her. "Eli's calling a meeting up front." As she reached the last row of seats, she turned her back on Audrey and addressed those who had not moved. "Shoo."
A massive, droopy snout nuzzled her stomach.
"Don't waste any time, do you Samson?" The woman ribbed affectionately.
Audrey smiled down at the humongous, golden dog. She didn't even have to stretch to rub behind his dark ears, which matched his chocolate-muzzled face. He blinked his obsidian eyes at her from between his wrinkles as she knelt, bringing her just below eye-level with him.
"Hi there," she greeted him.
Samson lowered his slightly slobbery chops to Audrey's shoulder and she found herself struck by the generous sincerity of his love. His bright-smiled owner folded her arms.
"He's a darling, isn't he?"
"He's gigantic!" Audrey exclaimed happily.
As she reached around his neck to hug him back, she felt almost normal. There were no words of consolation to endure, nor sympathetic looks, and for just a moment she forgot anything had ever been troubling her. All the worries she'd been burdened by just dissipated among the dust motes that drifted in the beams of light from the east-facing windows, in which Samson's lustrous coat gleamed.
She couldn't help but think, wistfully, that perhaps humans weren't anywhere near as smart as they were so arrogantly fond of believing. Maybe if we took a leaf out of your book, Samson, we wouldn't be in this ridiculous mess.
"I'm Jenny," the woman introduced herself, crouching to wobble her familiar's beefy back with her hand.
"Audrey."
"Pleased to meet you, Audrey," Jenny chuckled, retreating in defence as Samson's enormous tail whipped back and forth in her face. "I think somebody else is, too!"
Her laugh was like a chorus of wooden chimes in the wind. She seemed so carefree, with her honest, taciturn smile and the way she raked the front of her short, dark sienna hair out of her eyes with her fingers. Her very presence was like nutrition for the soul; fundamental righteousness radiated from her like ripples from a drop in the ocean, and yet she displayed no pride in her integrity whatsoever. Her long lashes dipped as her eyes flitted lovingly over Samson, who now rolled merrily between them beneath her tickles. She was a beacon of goodness.
Audrey's musings were brought to an abrupt end and her vital organs stopped cold when something large dropped to the marble floor beside her. She toppled sideward in shock, thankfully over a sturdy Samson, and glared, gasping, at the sudden arrival.
"How are you feeling?" Gabriel asked her, artlessly.
"Well that depends," she glowered, clutching at her heaving chest, "I assume you mean how was I feeling, before you unceremoniously scared the fucking shit out of me?"
He took her language like the minor sting of a papercut, his brow crinkling ever-so-slightly for a moment, before he stooped to one knee before her.
"I'm sorry," he implored, reaching out to caress her flushed cheek. Samson stepped one gargantuan paw over Audrey's leg and growled menacingly at the peacebreaker.
"Samson!" Jenny wheezed reproachfully, having been startled by Gabriel's unexpected entrance herself.
Gabriel turned his attention to her at the sound of the familiar name and smiled.
"What an apt choice of name," he praised.
Moving his hand from Audrey's face, he raised it to pet Samson's head, but barely got a foot from his nose before he thought better of it. Jenny grabbed her furry friend's green, leather collar, tugging pleadingly on it until he backed down.
"Don't feel too bad," a man's mild voice came from behind. Gabriel looked over his shoulder to find the sheriff standing over them. "He doesn't like me much either."
With an endearing grin, he leaned down to place a kiss atop Jenny's fluffy, brunette head, eliciting a low, irritated grumble from Samson's throat. The new friends laughed together over the gentle giant between them as the priest made his way up the centre aisle.
"Jenny," Audrey began politely, before sinking to a more peevish tone for the one whom she was presenting: "Gabriel; Gabriel, Jenny."
Jenny's mouth fell open, along with the sheriff's, and the priest's as he joined them. The old man's mossy-green eyes tore themselves away from the living angel crouched before Audrey and landed upon a white statue, stood in an alcove in the wall between the top of the front door and the balcony's balustrade. Audrey and Gabriel both followed his gaze.
At the front, the Virgin Mary kneeled with baby Jesus in her arms, and Joseph looked adoringly over her shoulder. Behind them, bearing a serene smile and with palms upturned to Heaven, was a winged figure. It was draped in flowing robes, and had long, cascading waves of hair reaching all the way down to an unmistakeable pair of round, modestly-sized breasts.
Audrey tried desperately to keep herself under control, even holding her breath as an attempt at plugging it up, but it only made her inevitable snort all the more unladylike as she fell across Samson's vast, reclining body, howling with wild, irrepressible laughter.
Gabriel scowled, evidently offended by his feminine representation.
"You cannot seriously expect me to believe that's supposed to be me," he argued, but his exasperation was lost among Audrey's raucous amusement and the growing tittering in the background as people looked on from various distances amid the pews. At the sight of his friend's heedless, now tearful delight, he was no better able to control his pleasure than she was hers.
How unreserved her joy is, he observed in admiration. Samson licked at her knee as she rested her damp cheek against his back. Even if it is at my expense, he thought with a wry widening of his smile.
As Audrey came round, her eyes still glistening with mirth, the priest addressed the messenger of his God.
"Gabriel," he called warmly, hobbling closer into the circle as the archangel rose to his full, tremendous height. "Something real freaky's been going on." This sobered Audrey like a bucket of ice-water, and she climbed to her feet, listening intently. "Have you come to protect us?"
Her heart hammered beneath her ribs as she thought about the answers these people sought. It would destroy this poor man, she worried, to know the truth.
"No," Gabriel replied. "That danger is gone."
"Then why are you here?" The man with the limp called from his wife's side. "Why didn't you come when we needed you?"
"What happened to those people who attacked us?" Asked the young mother, one hand holding her son's bandaged head close to the hollow of her neck.
Without missing a beat, Audrey seized Gabriel's hand and squeezed tightly.
"It was a virus," she concocted, unable to shatter their faith. She knew they'd accept it; they'd all seen the movies.
Gabriel looked down at her, entirely unsure, for the first time in his everlong life, of what he felt. Her little white lie resounded in his head as the cathedral discussed the explanation she'd given them.
His deep-rooted obedience told him it was wrong, but the sheer transparency of her reasoning precluded his reprimand. After all she's seen, he marvelled, and everything she's suffered, she still protects Him. Such loyal compassion was invaluable to him, and in that fraction of a moment, he knew. His heart swelled with something he'd only ever harboured for his Father: boundless, unconditional, all-encompassing love. There was nothing he would not do.
He couldn't take his eyes off her as he squeezed her petite fingers in return, hardly noticing the hush that fell upon the grand atrium once more.
"Does that mean the ones who got hurt are infected?" Somebody fretted near the back of the crowd.
"No," they both answered in unison. Gabriel continued: "The sickness is no longer infectious, but we must burn the dead nonetheless, as a precautionary measure." That way, he thought gratefully, there will be fewer vessels nearby for Lucifer to commandeer.
"Well that's just dandy," the young mother jeered, "But you didn't answer Tobias' question: why didn't you come when we needed you?"
Gabriel looked at the little boy in her arms. His cheeks were blotchy from crying; a tuft of ash-blonde hair peeked out from his bloodstained bandages in the middle of his forehead. He couldn't have been much over two years old.
"What is your name?" Gabriel enquired, making his way – Audrey in tow – towards her.
"Cecille." She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
Gabriel stood close to her and raised his hand to hover over her bewildered, suspicious head.
"May I?" He requested politely, but had no intention of pausing for consent. His palm came down atop the crown of her curly, coppery-brown locks; the other let go of his love's hand and rested upon the same spot. He wanted to share this with her, too.
Igniting dormant parts of their minds, he broadened the span of their vision. Audrey and Cecille gasped at what his efforts revealed before them.
Standing over the child, tenderly stroking his tired, wet face with a look of devoted concern, was a woman. She glowed with a celestial light of a colour Audrey had never seen, that didn't seem to emanate from anywhere specific, and didn't quite fall upon anything around her. She was wrapped in a long, strapless gown that fell in thick folds from the cord around her ribs, and framing her slender body from behind was a pair of large, white wings. Around her neck she wore a slightly less bulky version of Gabriel's metal collar.
It would have been astounding even if she'd been the only one, but as Audrey glanced about the previously sparsely-occupied pews, she saw hundreds more – a luminous blanket spread throughout the seats, and the air, as they watched over the refugees.
"The fact that most of us," Gabriel elucidated, "cannot be seen with your human eyes, or heard with your human ears, does not mean we're not here."
His point made irrefutably clear, he released Cecille's head, recaptured Audrey's hand and returned to the group at the back of the cathedral.