Previously: Three new soldiers (Pmox, Baradiel, Rzionr Nrzfm) joined the Garrison. Camael is reborn as Jesus to bring Faith to the Humans. When the news spreads that his Grace has been destroyed and that he will die as a Human, many Angels rebel and are sent to rehabilitation.
oOo
The mount of olives
Bathed in sunlight, Galilee is filled with fragrances of spices and honey. The slow swish of waves on the shore is drowned out by the continuous humming of human voices that rises from the city.
This area is part of what used to be Siosp's sector, not that far from Sodom and Gomorrah that we burned to the ground a few centuries earlier, and where my brother was executed before my eyes.
I can still hear the shrilling echoes of his agony, the screams of monsters and Humans alike as they burned to ashes under Uriel's deathly blasts. That life can return to normal so soon after slaughters and tragedies will never cease to amaze me. Human lives are short and their collective memory of events gets twisted and lost through generations. Or it might have something to do with the adaptability they have displayed throughout their evolution.
I watch the lively crowd wandering through the streets like water flowing between rocks. Every single person carries in their soul a story filled with memories and emotions, unique in their diversity, unpredictable and hard to decipher. I could be watching Humans for all eternity without getting tired of it.
Clothed from head to toe to shield themselves from the blazing sun, they make their way through the colorful stalls of merchants and carts loaded with food or bundles of straw. Jesus is walking among them, stepping on the dust, followed by about thirty devout disciples. A white cloth on his head partially covers his dark, wavy hair, a few locks of which slip out, streaming down on his tunic. He is a grown man now, with a beard darkening his sun-golden face. His warm brown eyes are kind to everyone he encounters, even those who bump into him. He sometimes raises his hand and touches their foreheads with two fingers, relieving them of their physical suffering with just a few soothing words.
All around me, there are feathers rustling, but I keep my head down to observe as Jesus walks through the city alleys. For years now, there has been a growing curiosity about Jesus among my brothers from other divisions, as no Angel in Heaven is unaware of Camael's unique predicament. It has become quite common for our observation mission to be hindered by curious Angels willing to see with their own eyes the rebellious Angel whose Grace has been ripped off and now lives among the Humans as one of them to carry out a mission of the utmost importance. All the while without even knowing he is an Angel.
Well, it's no wonder that my brothers are so curious about him.
Jesus comes to a halt in front of a blind beggar. His disciples stand behind him, whispering to each other in awe and excitement – the miracles Jesus performs never cease to amaze them. He has a brief conversation with the man, then bends over to touch his forehead. Immediately, the mist clears from the eyes along with the blindness, unveiling perfectly functional pupils and irises, already brimming with tears of gratitude. Now cured, the man throws himself at the feet of Jesus and weeps as he thanks him.
When Jesus smiles down at him, the serene joy lighting up his face is so much like Camael it hurts to watch.
"Who'd have thought this new life would give our Cam-o a taste for showing off?"
While down on the ground the Humans are marveling at the miracle – some even implore Jesus to make them his disciples, promising to give up their lives, wealth and families at once – I look up at Balthazar whose tourmaline eyes are sparkling with mirth.
Balthazar has not been around much these last decades, as he was frequently summoned by the hierarchy, or absent for other reasons unknown to me.
"I can't believe he doesn't even use his powers and his pretty face to have a tumble in the hay!" he goes on as I stare unblinkingly at him. "Even incarnated as Humans, you lot from the Garrison have a stick shoved so far up your ass that not even God Himself could pull it out."
I don't take notice of the insult, I just draw my attention back to Jesus who is being assaulted by greedy hands and supplications of sick people.
"How come he still has powers, Balthazar? I would have assumed that an Angel would be powerless without his Grace. But I can see him healing Humans with a mere touch, making fish appear in the sea effortlessly…"
"Ah, Cassy Cassy Cassy. You're so young and naive. You really don't know a thing about Grace, do you?"
"I'm not naive," I snap back defensively. "Just tell me why Camael has these powers even though he no longer has his Grace."
"Well then. See, the Grace is our source of energy and what binds us directly to Heaven through a living network system, but more importantly, it is what shapes our appearance and shelters our holy spirit. In theory, the holy spirit fails to survive if the Grace has been destroyed, because unlike a human soul, it cannot exist on its own. In Camael's case, a ritual was used to split the Grace from the holy spirit and to ensure that he would survive long enough to be implanted inside a Human's womb."
"Inside a Human's womb… is it like taking a vessel, in a way?"
"Not quite. It's more complicated. The womb was not impregnated when Camael entered it – I ensured that Mary was not a slut and was very chaste with her fiancé – and it was his holy spirit who created life there. Let's just say that poor Mary suffered the cons without the pros and that Joseph never got to consummate the marriage."
Around us, a dozen Angels arrive all at once and quietly start whispering to each other, pointing at Jesus. A few seconds later, they have already left, replaced by a new batch of curious Angels.
"What makes the holy spirit so special," Balthazar continues dramatically, "is that it is far more complete than the human spirit. See, Humans are also made of two elements: a spirit and a soul. But their spirit only holds their memories and their survival instincts. A soulless Human would be nothing more than an intelligent animal, basically, focused on their own survival, reproduction, and the protection of their species if they are endangered. Devoid of emotion, sensitivity and creativity. While our holy spirit contains everything we are. Our personality, our memories, and an echo of our Grace."
"An echo?"
"Absolutely. There is a unique bond between each holy spirit and its Grace, which is why Graces are not interchangeable. We've only got the one, you and I couldn't exchange Graces or give our own to Camael. And this connection between holy spirit and Grace influences them both. Grace is born out of Life, out of the Lord's creative energy, and the slightest brush with it is life-giving and pure creation. Even stripped of its Grace, Camael's holy spirit carries a small portion of it, just enough to create life in an empty womb or to achieve all those lovely little miracles. Millions of years of merging energies cannot be erased from his holy spirit after only a few decades. This is what we call an echo."
I nod as I let the information sink in. Balthazar raises his fingers to his temple and unfurls his wings, looking annoyed.
"Clearly, they're helpless without me up there! Keep an eye on our local celebrity, I've got a surprise meeting coming up…"
He winks at me and flies away, leaving me behind with all those other Angels I don't know who keep coming and going. I do hope that in a few years time they'll get bored. My brother is not an experiment to be studied.
Meanwhile, Jesus resumed his walk through the bright and dusty streets of the city, followed by newly converted disciples. He patiently answers their questions and shares his wise teachings, speaking of the Lord with so much devotion that through his words I feel my own faith growing stronger. Camael always knew the right words to praise God and galvanize our devotion.
"You're Castiel, right?"
I look up to see an Angel staring at me with warm, onyx eyes.
"My name is Inias. You may not remember, but we crossed paths after the Flood, and I was also there to support you and Camael at your trial…"
My memories of my trial are foggy and I hardly remember who was there – other than the Garrison, Samandriel, Balthazar and the Sisters of Destiny – but I do remember the Flood.
"I remember you," I say. "You were flying in the sky with your division."
"The division of air, wind and storms, yes. Like most Angels, I have heard a lot about you since the Garrison and the Humans were created, and... I just wanted to tell you... that although we remain silent, there are many of us who support you. We think that Humans are our Father's masterpiece and that your mission is essential."
His Grace glows inside his chest in a slow whirlwind of light.
"… Thank you."
He looks down to watch Jesus, his wings tensing behind his back.
"However, Camael's fate is causing more and more dissension among our brothers, and I am myself divided on the matter. I have Faith in God's plan and I do hope the Humans will understand His message, but... How do you deal with this situation, all of you Garrison soldiers who were close to Camael?"
What kind of question is this? Is he trying to find fault with me somehow?
But all I can find in his eyes is sympathy and genuine curiosity, and I have to look away. Jesus is healing a woman whose arm was paralyzed.
"Each of us reacted in a different way to these events, Inias." I hope my voice doesn't convey any of my confusion. "Our General showed great efficiency and obedience to the hierarchy. Most of my brothers took the announcement quite… badly, but eventually accepted it. Uriel took it the hardest. He… the incidents the Garrison has suffered over the last few millennia have changed him. Siosp's death, and now Camael's punishment, it all made him lose the carefree side of him…"
Why am I telling him this? My thoughts are slipping away and coming to life against my will, like I've held them inside for too long.
I shouldn't share my thoughts. With anyone. Especially these days.
It's not safe.
"What about you, Castiel?"
"Me?"
He blinks, tilting his head to the side.
"You and Camael were close…"
My hands roll into fists.
"Camael and I had… history," I say with caution. "It's complicated."
Finally, Inias seems to understand that I don't want to talk about it.
"Just know that no matter what happens, Castiel, I will be on your side. And I won't be the only one."
And then he flies away in the blink of an eye, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the teachings Jesus is giving to his growing number of fascinated disciples.
Either by his wisdom or by his powers, I cannot say.
oOo
The hillside is crowded with Humans standing or sitting cross-legged, all in an arc shape to get the best possible view of Jesus' oratory performance. There are well over a thousand of them, all silent and focused, listening to the words of peace, love and tolerance that my fallen brother is sending them. At his feet are seated the twelve apostles that he chose among his favorite disciples to learn his teaching so that they, in turn, could spread it in the future. Everyone is listening to him fervently, paying rapt attention to every word he says.
A warm breeze makes the shrub leaves simmer and the spectators' tunics ripple. The sea of Galilee glistens in the sunlight, waves nibbling at the shore. Lizards slither furtively over warm rocks as crickets sing their song.
Jesus looks at ease in his role as a spiritual guide. So majestic is his presence, so ancient are his eyes, so deep are his words, that sometimes I struggle to recall that Camael is unaware that he is an Angel, and that he no longer has any memory of the millions of years he spent in the Garrison, nor does he remember any of the battles we fought and the missions we achieved. Nor does he remember Cain.
As I listen to him mesmerize his audience, I understand now why the hierarchy deemed it necessary for Camael to be born among human beings and live as one of them. No Angel would have been able to find the words to affect Humans like this and make them love God: for us, devotion cannot be learned. It is innate, an inherent part of our very essence.
Had we needed to talk directly to the Humans, we would have just ordered them to believe in the Lord and obey His Will – with no proof of His existence whatsoever. For that is what we have been doing our entire lives. Whereas Jesus uses simple words, short, vivid sentences that mark the minds of Humans, giving them concrete examples of their daily lives and their concerns as mortals. He finds the way to their hearts.
None other than the Angel of Joy could have achieved such a feat. Rebellion aside, he has always favored kindness over strength.
"I have not been watching the Humans as closely or for as long as you have, but from what I have observed of them since their creation, I already know that Jesus' message won't be understood."
That was Baradiel talking. With folded arms and fire burning in his red eyes, he stares down unenthusiastically at our fallen brother.
In the last two months, we have received new directives from the hierarchy concerning our mission to keep watch over Jesus. Now, three or more of us must be observing him at all times, with shifts every two or three days, depending on the schedule. Today, it is with Baradiel and Zedekiel that I am watching Jesus' every move.
"Too many analogies, perhaps?" says Zedekiel, tilting his head to the side. "These stories about birds and wild lilies are a tad too cryptic. And how could he promise the pure of heart that they'll see God! Everyone knows that only Archangels have the privilege of laying their eyes on Father and talking to Him."
"Jesus doesn't know that," I say in a neutral tone. "All he knows about Heaven is what the hierarchy has instructed us to pass on to him through dreams."
"This has nothing to do with phrasing." Baradiel turns his gaze to me. "The real problem is how the teachings will be misinterpreted by listeners."
Zedekiel blinks at him in bewilderment, but quickly averts his gaze when Baradiel glances at him. Even after all these years, Zedekiel still has trouble looking into these blazing eyes glowing like molten lava.
"If God has decided to bring this message to Humans, it is because He knows that they are ready to hear and understand it," I say.
For to make an Angel – even a rebellious one – go through such an ordeal, certainly Father knows what He is doing. I have Faith in His plan. The plan is right.
"While it may be understood by those listening to it now, it will only take two or three generations for the message to be distorted or lost. That's the way Humans are."
Baradiel speaks these words as an observation, without any anger or contempt.
"It's a shame that Humans live for such a short period of time," Zedekiel muses. "If they lived for a thousand years or so, they'd probably be less ignorant. Camael, provided that he remains in good health, should die of old age after... a century, hopefully?"
"Some of God's chosen ones have lived for much longer," I say quietly. "I only hope he lives a long and happy life and succeeds in his mission."
"I pray to God every day that he may find in his mortal life the forgiveness and peace that he could not get in our midst."
He shuts his ice-blue eyes and clasps his four hands together. His Grace brightens as his prayer rises to the sky. I fervently join him in his prayer.
Baradiel, on the other hand, has grown silent.
oOo
Anna effortlessly moves through the swarming crowd. If it weren't for her stiff gait and unblinking eyes, it would be impossible for a Human to suspect that this dark-skinned old woman contains in her flesh and bones an ancient and powerful celestial being – the General of the Garrison, no less.
To us watching the operation from above, Anna clearly stands out among the many Humans strolling through the narrow streets of Jerusalem. Her true face appears translucent, like a bright shadow layered over her vessel's organic one, and her phantom wings are extending from her back, people unknowingly walking right through them.
"He's standing only a few feet away from you. Come closer, put your hand on his shoulder and tell him you need his help. Make up some kind of sob story. These Jesus-loving good Samaritans are always eager to rescue widows and orphans."
Zachariah is as close as he can get: Anna is quite walking right between his feet. All of us soldiers of the Garrison are standing in a wider circle around Jerusalem. Well, only a few soldiers from the Garrison are actually here: Hester, Balthazar, Ephra, Miz and I.
Anna thought it best not to involve the other soldiers of the Garrison, for safety's sake. She feared they might overreact or even rebel at the news.
Balthazar is the only one who doesn't seem surprised by what we were told. After all, he's been in the loop for at least a century. He probably knew all about it even before Jesus was born.
Zachariah shakes his head mockingly.
"Oh, for our Lord's sake, Anna, don't look so glum. You'll scare the poor thing off.Show me emotion, tearful eyes, some actual acting skills, that's what I want to see!"
The old woman's body freezes and she throws an irritated glance to the sky - to us - before quickening her pace and laying her hand on the shoulder of the apostle closest to Jesus: Judas Iscariot.
Anna is obviously trying hard to appear slightly more human, but her poor imitation of distress is a blatant failure. Her stance remains rigid and her voice is flat, which is not very convincing. It's quite awkward to watch, actually.
"That was utterly pathetic," Zachariah drawls. "But it doesn't matter, the fool is following you, which is what we aimed for. Now, take him to the empty alley like we agreed."
Zachariah's three dark blue, icy orbs follow Anna and Judas with sharp yet detached attention.
I've been hearing about Zachariah for ages, but this is the first time I get to see him in person. Back when I was watching the Humans still covered in fur and barely learning to stand on two legs - I stand by the fact that they were trying to imitate us, as we were not yet hiding from their eyes - Zachariah's attempted rebellion and rehabilitation had had a tremendous resonance. He is, to my knowledge, the very first Angel to have contested an order. And the first one to have been sent to rehabilitation.
I can't help but wonder if he regrets rebelling, and if he misses his dinosaurs - just like I do sometimes miss the other race of Humans that was so promising...
There is a certain aura of patronizing self-assurance about him. His posture is stiff, but his Grace fluid. Looking at him, it's hard to imagine doubt ever clouded his judgment.
To have the head of all divisions in charge of Father's living creations come down to supervise fieldwork means that this action is essential and that the hierarchy wants to ensure complete success.
Anna wandered into an alley with Judas. He turns to face her, compassion in his eyes shifting into puzzlement. The General's borrowed face is neutral as she stares at her target. The body she's inhabiting may be worn out by the passage of time, but it radiates raw power, even more so than in her true form. Perhaps her Grace, concentrated in such a small volume, is thus increasing in intensity.
I think it has to be uncomfortable, to be squeezed into such a tiny organic structure. I've never once asked the question - not to Balthazar, nor to my siblings who have occasionally claimed vessels over the past thousand years.
"Now, let's give him an eyeful,"urges Zachariah in a falsely cheerful tone. "Start with a bit of wind to shake the tiles and sweep up some dust."
Anna does just that - their clothes are now billowing in the gusts and flapping against their bodies. Judas flinches, terrified as he tries to shield his eyes from the dust with his arms. Anna raises her powerful voice to introduce herself as an Angel of the Lord.
"The wings," Balthazar chides in. "I keep telling you, don't forget the wings. They look quite impressive to Humans and they're all you need to blow their minds."
"Good point, Balthazar," Zachariah nods. "Anna, you heard him, show off your lovely feathers with a flash of lightning so he can have a good look at them."
Anna takes a deep breath as she spreads her ethereal wings. Thick, heavy clouds suddenly gather in the rosy sky on this spring evening. The rumbling of thunder crashes, and lightning strikes through the air not far from us. Light flashes onto Anna's vessel and casts the shadow of her wings on the wall of the alley. Judas drops to his knees, shaking all over and bowing until his forehead touches the ground.
"Now repeat after me: Arise, Judas, and rejoice, for God has chosen you to do His will."
Anna dutifully repeats Zachariah's words.
"You are the closest and most devoted apostle of Jesus, Son of God. And you will be the one who betrays him and delivers him to his death. In a week's time you will lead the high priests and Pharisees to Jesus so that they can take him to Roman justice."
The growing fame of Jesus has stirred up many grudges and envy in the hearts of men, and there are many who want him dead. But until now his enemies have never been in a position to harm him: either because they did not know where he was or what he looked like, or because they did not dare to attack him in public before his hundreds of faithful disciples.
Judas scrambles up to his feet and staggers back
"Betray him and deliver him to his... ? I would never do that. I love Jesus and I will never betray him."
He is staring at Anna in disbelief, and even from up here I can see his jugular throbbing at an accelerated pace.
"You will do it," says Zachariah, and Anna immediately repeats the words, "because God commands it. If you truly love Jesus and his Father, you will not fear being regarded as a traitor, for you will know that you have done good. Jesus will be sentenced to death, ascend to Heaven, and his sacrifice will save all humanity."
Judas shakes his head, eyes wide open and filled with dread.
"Being considered a traitor is not what bothers me, O Angel, but I cannot betray Jesus. He is my dearest friend."
"And there it is, sentimentality and disgusting feelings..." Zachariah snickers. "Anna, tell him: this is not a betrayal, but a sacred mission. Jesus already knows that you are destined to betray him. His sacrifice is necessary to save humanity from its sins.Ah ah! Sounds rather good, doesn't it?" He lets out a laugh. "This will look very good in my report to the hierarchy. They enjoy anything that's cryptic. It is, after all, Father's trademark."
I silently avert my eyes.
When Anna and Zachariah summoned us without inviting the rest of the Garrison today, they revealed to us the imminent and cruel death that awaits Camael. We must keep it secret until the fateful moment, because the hierarchy - no, God - fears that Uriel, Rachel or any other Angel may rebel and cause the mission to fail before it is completed.
That Anna and the Lord count me as one of the most reliable and loyal soldiers would have filled me with pride under normal circumstances. But I feel nothing. I'm still having trouble realizing that the last hope I had for my brother has crumbled like all the others. He will not return to the Garrison, will not regain his memories, and will suffer a painful death.
And he knows it.
They told us Zachariah informed him of his death and Judas' betrayal years ago. Without even knowing that he was being sacrificed by his own kind, Jesus humbly accepted it. No questions or hesitation, obeying like only an Angel knows how to. I wish I could spare my brother the agony that awaits him. Camael is a soldier of the Garrison. An Angel of the Lord. Since he is doomed to be a mortal, the least we could do is to offer him a quick and painless death.
I'm starting to understand what compelled him to save Cain from Heaven's control. If only there was a way to do the same with him…
At our feet, Judas bursts into tears as he promises Anna he will obey. Then he walks away with tears streaming down his face.
"Well, that wasn't so hard, was it? That's good, very good, for your advancement to a higher step in the ranks. I'll have a word at the next annual meeting. Another four small steps and you'll get promoted."
Zachariah stares us down with an air of satisfaction as he spreads his wings.
"Soldiers, it's been a pleasure."
A silky rustle of feathers, and Zachariah vanishes into the stormy sky which is still thundering with lightning, soon followed by pouring rain. The General stands perfectly still, her white hair streaming down her wrinkled face. She clenches her fists and stares at the ground silently.
oOo
A night breeze is blowing through the trees of the Mount of Olives, making their leaves quiver in the moonlight. All is quiet except for the whispered prayer of Jesus and the breathing of his disciples sleeping on the grass. He is praying to God fervently, eager to obey Him and to do His will.
From our position, we follow the march of men armed with spears holding burning torches, which form a long snake of fire slithering in the darkness. Judas is leading them to the garden of Gethsemane where Jesus and his apostles are gathered, and he tells them in a low voice that they will have to arrest the one he will be embracing, for he will be the one they are looking for.
As they approach, the trees grow shadows that twist like entrails in the torchlight. Jesus rises to his feet, lowering a serene gaze on Judas. On the ground, his disciples are waking up and scrambling to stand up as well, except for one who keeps snoring until he gets roughly shaken out of his slumber.
Judas' face is blank as he steps forward, although his eyes glisten with barely restrained tears. His hands rest on Jesus' shoulders as he leans in, bringing their lips together for a short moment – which is enough time for the men to grasp their weapons and rush to their target.
Judas hurriedly moves aside while the apostles are yelling and fiercely fighting to protect their master. Blood gushes out when the ear of one of the guards is sliced off, splashing the grass with red.
"Put your sword back in its sheath," Jesus orders the apostle who did this. His voice is calm but commanding.
The apostles stops fighting and watch in desperation as my brother brushes the forehead of the wounded man with two fingers, healing him instantly.
"If I need protection, my Father will provide it," he says, holding out his hands to be bound.
Terrified, the apostles are running away, chased by armed soldiers who seize and tie up anyone who stands in their way, even bystanders who were drawn by curiosity to the noise and light. When one of them, only clad in a long white sheet, tries to run off, the guards only manage to grab a handful of the cloth while the man escapes naked in the night, penis and testicles bouncing around between his thighs.
The General flies away without a word when she sees that the mission is fulfilled, obviously in a hurry to leave the area. Balthazar follows her soon after, mumbling something about a boring meeting he has to attend. The soft rustle of their wings echoes for a few seconds while the soldiers ruthlessly drag Jesus away. Judas watches it all as he is the only apostle left standing there.
"Uriel will find out the truth sooner or later... We can't keep it from him forever."
Ephra's voice draws me out of my musing.
"All we need is for him to learn this after Jesus died, so he won't be tempted to sabotage the mission." I hope my tone of voice sounds indifferent.
"I can't wait for this to be over," Hester says wearily. "Keeping the secret and explaining why I'm needed there is getting harder and harder. In my original division, Angels are of an inquisitive disposition, and my silence only fuels their interest in my whereabouts."
Ephra hums thoughtfully.
"I can understand why Uriel has been kept out of the mission - he was violently opposed to it from the start - and for the three newcomers, I also understand why Anna does not trust them since they have only been with us for a few centuries, but... the others? Why exclude Levanael, Rachel, Htmorda or Zedekiel? Aren't they as loyal and devoted as we are? Why us?"
Miz, who I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he has spoken (not counting, of course, his frequent invitations to witness the foolishness of Humans), raises his voice to reply: "Because of all the Garrison soldiers, we are the only ones who will always blindly obey even the most absurd and cruel orders, whether out of devotion, disregard or fear."
We share a tense look as we let this sink in - to which of us do these words apply? In the past, I would have thought without question that devotion is the only thing that drives me. But since Siosp's death my devotion has grown so well infused with fear that I can no longer tell them apart.
Jesus is silent too as he walks escorted by guards, torchlight drawing shifting shadows on his face.
Left alone in the garden, Judas breaks down in tears in the shade of the olive trees. Thirty silver coins fall from his hand, spilling on the ground with an ominous tinkling.
oOo
In the next chapter (next sunday, april 26th)
"Anna... What's going on?"
"There's a mass rebellion in Heaven. Quite a mess up there."
[NdA : In the Bible, Judas, overcome with remorse, returns the money and hangs himself to a tree. That's what gave me the idea that he was coerced.]