Mealla, roused by Sam's shouts, padded hurriedly into the hallway and halted at Aeden's door, seeing immediately that the bed was empty.
"Aeden?" she called. "Aeden!"
Sam turned to her. "I'm sorry. Oh God, I'm so, so sorry."
"What are you talking about?"
With a pained look, Sam began to explain Gabriel's message, and Mealla didn't even stop to question the outrageous assumption that angels actually existed. The whole story took only minutes to tell, ending at Gabriel's intrusion into their home, and Aeden's disappearance.
"So," said Mealla in a shaking voice when Sam had finished. "So, you knew this Gabriel was coming for ten whole years, and you didn't do a thing about it?"
Sam blinked at the accusation. "I did. I searched and searched. I called in every favor I had. I prayed until I was blue in the face. There was nothing I could do."
Mealla pressed a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes. "Aeden's gone," she said in a choked voice. "Our son is gone."
"Mia-"
"Don't." Mealla shook her head. She wouldn't meet Sam's gaze. "Just…don't talk to me right now." She turned on her heel and retreated into their bedroom, and locked the door behind her.
For the next several days, Mealla wouldn't talk to Sam, not even look at him. They hadn't gone to the police; Sam told her it was useless. The house felt like an abandoned estate after the only occupant has died. And all the while, the same mantra was running through Sam's head: Gabriel, please, just bring my son back. Gabriel, please. GABRIEL! GABRIEL, YOU SON OF A BITCH, BRING HIM BACK! But nothing ever happened. Days became a week. Weeks became a month. A month and a half. Two.
A neighbor came over, a very sweet woman named Mrs. Reynolds who babysat Aeden sometimes. She asked why she hadn't seen him out playing.
"Aeden's really sick right now, Mrs. Reynolds," said Sam in a hoarse voice, leaning against the doorframe.
"Oh, the poor thing. Well, tell him to feel better from me." Mrs. Reynolds' doughy face crumpled with concern.
"Yeah, I'll tell him." Sam shut the door before she could say another word. He still went into work occasionally, but most days found him at his computer or buried in the remnants of Bobby's library, searching for any kind of lore or legend on a second Messiah, or any other biblical purpose Gabriel could possibly be using Aeden for.
Unbidden in his mind rose the image of Aeden, scared and alone, locked in some angel's rat cage. Or worse, an angel's vessel, with glowing white eyes, pressing his hand against some demon's forehead.
They couldn't just take him. Not like this. Not ever. In a sudden flash of rage, Sam screamed and threw the heavy leather-bound tome he was holding across the office, where it smashed into the liquor cabinet, sending amber liquid and shard of glass flying in every direction, and soaking the pages of the ancient book.
A moment later, Mealla appeared and looked through the door, expressionless, and then left without even looking at Sam.