Unnatural Instinct: Fallen

28.

'NO!'

You can't believe it. You won't believe it. It isn't true! But you stare up at the tunnel of blue and the truth is irrefutable—there's nothing of him left. Not a hair. Not a feather. Both he and Satan have been utterly obliterated.

You turn numb. Tears are pouring freely out of your eyes but you hardly notice. Your stomach clenches into such a tight knot, it feels like a ball of lead. You feel heavy, your feet rooted hard into the ground as you continue to stare above.

A sudden rage sweeps away your grief. 'How could you?' you cry. 'How could you! I hate you. I hate you!' Does God hear? You don't care.

Hell turns into a red blur. The swirling blue makes you dizzy. Staggering, you drop to your knees. You're staring at the ground, your tears pattering into the ash like rain. Vaguely you wonder what's going to happen next and you find you don't care. Joel's gone. What does anything else matter?

Slowly, you look up again. It's strangely difficult; your head is heavy and your neck feels stiff. The tunnel of blue light is still there, hell's black smoke seething around it. You glance over your shoulder. The top of Satan's castle has sunken in. Where once it stood like a gnarled finger jabbing at the sky, now it's a crater. The rest of the castle still stands but on a slight angle, as though its foundations have shifted. It's teetering. Even as you watch, a great jagged crack rips up its side, dislodging chunks of rock that thud into the flames below.

The balcony gives a shudder. It's not safe but you can't make yourself care enough to move. Besides, the sooner you die, the sooner you'll see Joel again.

You hope.

You turn back to the sky, and your heart begins to race at the sight of a distant, tiny flash amid the blue. You squint. Slowly, the flash descends, gliding in circles like a speck of glitter. Both at once your heart swells with hope and sinks with dread.

More rocks thud into the earth. Your ears ring at the sound of a loud crack! as another rip opens up in the castle, but you don't look back, staring hard at the descending light. It's an angel, of course, but one you neither feared nor hoped for.

He lands gracefully metres away from you, standing as bright and towering as Lucifer once did. But this isn't Satan—and it isn't Joel. Your heart sinks. This one has long red hair and a pair of astonishing emerald eyes that are even more wondrous than Satan's were—though not as wondrous as Joel's. You would give anything for that astonishing green to turn into his sunken black.

Somehow, you know immediately who it is. 'Michael,' you breathe.

He doesn't respond. He's as awesome as Lucifer once was, but unlike him he doesn't overwhelm you; your heart and mind are still yours. He's wearing a kindly smile that makes your heart lurch. Though you told yourself you would die here, when he holds out his hand you don't hesitate in getting to your feet and taking it. Warm and safe, it engulfs yours.

'Is he all right?' you say. 'Have you seen him?'

Again, he doesn't answer, his perfect doll-like face serene and mysterious.

You sigh in frustration but don't resist when he lifts you into his arms. Like Joel intended to do, he leaps from the edge of the balcony. Burying your face into his neck, you hold on tight.

His great white wings beat loudly through the air as he ascends towards the tunnel of blue, and you can't help but look up. The wind whips against your face, making your eyes tear up, but you refuse to look away. Your lips part in awe. You can't describe it. To see something so impossible utterly overwhelms your senses. It snatches the thoughts from your mind. The tunnel is like a tornado: a quiet interior surrounded by a furious storm that surges and twists and pounds, howling and whistling like a living thing.

It's a terrifying thing to approach, but once you enter the tunnel, the noise stops and the wind ceases to blast. An astonishing calm descends.

'What is this?' you whisper.

You look up and see a distant white light, so bright you have to look away. On either side the black clouds pound against the circumference of the tunnel. What exactly is holding them back, you cannot say.

God's power. God has done this. And up there ....

Nobody has seen him. He is not a tangible thing. He's a force. A light. A warmth.

You try to look again only to turn your head with a gasp of pain.

Far down below, the flames of hell lash into the air, as though reaching to take you back. You shiver.

The Archangel Michael doesn't talk, nor does he look at you, his eyes fixed on the way ahead. Your arms are tight around his neck. His arms are firm around your body. His skin is warm. Briefly, you close your eyes and pretend he's someone else; someone with black wings and skin as pale as the moon.

The blue darkens, then deepens, then blackens into a moonlit night. Both above and below, starry lights flicker. You're flying above a city.

You're home.

Where is he taking you? You look below and try to identify anything familiar but you're too high above to see anything clearly.

You fly for some time, the moon shining against Michael's wings, before you finally descend. And soon enough you realise you really are home. You recognise the neighbourhood church; you pass over so close, that if you wanted to, you could reach out and touch its steeple. You pass over the local hospital, library and major shopping centre. Then you're flying over the rooftops of a familiar street.

He lands smoothly in the driveway of your apartment building. A few lights are on. Your apartment is on the second level, the window dark, the blinds closed. It's so strange to see it again; to be back to your regular life. The street is empty. It's almost silent except for the sound of distant traffic and the screech of bats coming from the park across the road. How can things be so normal after all that's happened?

Carefully, Michael eases you to your feet.

You look up at him, then away again. He makes you feel uncomfortable and you suddenly become embarrassingly aware of your nudity. Holding your arms across your breasts, you turn away to look at the door.

'I don't have a key.'

He points at the door, and with a click it opens.

'Th-thank you,' you say.

He nods. Should you say more? Should you say some kind of prayer or leave a message for God? You open your lips but close them again. There's too much sadness in your heart to come up with anything. Besides, you're still upset with Him.

Without a word, Michael leaps up, and you watch as he beats his great white wings. Soon, he's vanished into the moonlight and you're alone.