Blown Away!: Even More Confessions of an Angel in Training Read online

  blown away!

  Even More

  Confessions

  of an

  Angel-in-Training

  S H E L D E L I S L E

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part or in any form.

  First edition by Something Else Publishing paperback edition March 2015

  Copyright © 2015 Shel Delisle

  DEDICATION

  For my heavenly readers.

  Chapter 1

  This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.

  So, you’d think I’d be having a good time. You’d think being the qualifier.

  But, it’s incredibly uncomfortable to stand still, frozen and looking like some person during a Time Dilation.

  The mostly backless, white robe that they forced me to wear is scratchy, and I just want this whole thing to be over. Still, I’ve wanted my wings for an eternity, so I can’t really whine, can I?

  Hope, our Heavenly couturier, has an ever-present tape measure and a clip board to make notes. Her hair is pulled into a tight chignon. She has several pencils, and other scarier looking tools stuck into her bun. She moves behind me and stretches the measure along the span of my shoulders.

  “Tsk, tsk. Please stand straight, Grace. An Angel should have perfect posture for her wings to fall in line properly.”

  Sheesh. Good thing she’s never seen my angel walk. She might use one of those implements on me. At any rate, this shoulders-back posture falls into the same category, and is actually much harder because at least when you’re moving it’s easier to fake it. I lift my chin and elongate my neck and pull my shoulders back, while Hope presses against the small of my back.

  “Much better. Now, stay like that. You don’t want to be off balance during flight.”

  Little does she realize—I’m used to being off balance. Even so, I hold the pose.

  As Hope takes more measurements—the span of my shoulders, the distance between my shoulder blades, shoulders to waist, shoulders to bottom—I survey the incredible number of wings hanging from hooks along the wall. In front of me is a three way mirror with several outlines projected onto the glass of how the wings may actually look once I’ve been fitted. One enormous pair catches my eye.

  “Will my wings be big?” I ask. I’ve always admired how magnificent Michael’s are. Victor’s, too.

  “Size is not important,” Hope explains. “It’s how well they fit you, and how you use them.”

  Is she for real? “That—”

  Pop. Whoosh.

  “—sounds like some kind of cliché if you ask me.”

  “What does?” Archangel Michael asks.

  I’m absolutely, totally, unconditionally mortified. Somehow I was transported from my wing fitting to Michael’s office. I’ve been here on a few occasions, but never without advance notice. I glance around to see if he's done any redecorating, but no. It’s as stark, sterile, and command center-looking as it ever was. Not only am I not properly clothed, which is bad enough, but he has Archangel Gabriel in the office with him. I’m used to embarrassment with Michael, but other Archangels—not so much.

  I feel the heat in my face and neck. “I was discussing how my wings would look with Hope.”

  “Sorry, Grace. I didn’t check when I summoned you. Please go back and dress more suitably and then return for a meeting.”

  “I can finish my wing fitting?” I ask without an ounce of hope. The kind that has nothing to do with my seamstress.

  “I’m afraid not. That’ll have to be postponed. Please re-schedule your appointment, and give Hope my apologies for the inconvenience.”

  Wouldn’t you know it? I finally get the go-ahead on my wings and something else comes up.

  }{

  About ten minutes later, I’m back in Michael’s office. Now Raphael has joined the party and there’s another Angel I’ve never met. Her expression catches me off-guard as it fluctuates between beautiful, ancient, stern, angry, youthful, and tranquil. Whatever quality she’s supposed to represent, she sure is moody.

  “Grace, you already know Gabriel and Raphael. This is Natura, and she could only meet today, which is why I had to ask you to postpone your previous appointment.”

  “Some people, people who show respect, mind you, call me Mother Nature,” she explains to me, but it’s clear from her current expression that this is meant as scolding for Michael. Wow. I never thought I’d see the day.

  Michael ignores the dis, and continues with his agenda. “Grace, you became acquainted with Annex on your last Mission.”

  Boy, had I! The guy was a Locust. I ended up stuck next to him on a flight, where he revealed his goal to destroy the Angelic Hierarchy. For some reason, I guess because I buck the trends, he’d become fixated on me and wanted me to join him. “Yes,” is all I say.

  “He’s very misdirected,” Michael continues.

  “Confused. It’s confusion,” Gabriel adds.

  “Misdirected! Confused?” Natura snorts. “Let’s talk turkey. He’s a troublemaker and he’s trying to break into The Garden of Eden in order to eat from The Tree of Creation.”

  Originally, The Garden of Eden was on Earth, but after the whole apple incident, Our Heavenly Papa moved it back to The Wilds and now it’s used as His private lab. I heard the plan is that He’ll move The Garden back to Earth once the humans learn to be better behaved. Although no one, not even Angels, are allowed in, everyone knows the story of the most famous trees—The Tree of Life, The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Nevertheless, there are a lot of trees in The Garden. I wasn’t familiar with the one Mother Nature mentioned.

  “What’s the Tree of Creation?”

  Mother Nature scowls at Michael. “We don’t have time for a botany lesson on The Garden. They want to control Creation, which as you may have surmised, affects me a great deal.” She’s definitely beyond irritated.

  “Calm down, Natura. We’re attempting to address it,” Michael says, urgency in his voice.

  She huffs, Mother Nature, then takes a deep breath and the lines in her face smooth.

  Michael straightens some papers on his desk. “Right. Mother Nature is obviously upset about the Locusts, and I’m afraid, Grace, that her anger tends to overflow onto humans. The weather of late has been…volatile. We think you may be able to help.”

  “I can completely understand why you’d want him to stop,” I say to Natura in sympathy, “but…I don’t understand what this all has to do with me.” I don’t have my freakin’ wings yet.

  “We think…” Michael pauses and looks sternly at Natura, who just shrugs like whatever. “All of us think you could convince Annex to stop this crusade.”

  Me? He has to be kidding? “I don’t even have my wings,” I manage to say.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Michael says.

  “Maybe to you. You already have yours.” As soon as this leaves my mouth, I know it’s a mistake. Michael’s wings are quivering and that is never a good sign. Gabriel and Raphael look horrified. The only one who is looking at me with interest is Natura, and I can’t quite read her expression.

  “Perhaps I judged your choice too quickly,” Natura says softly to Michael. “She certainly has some guts, even if she is a bit dense when it comes to botany.”

  Dense? Wait a minute--Mic
hael picked me? “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, but I hardly seem qualified for this Assignment.”

  Life is funny sometimes. Not too long ago I would’ve said I was ready to take on anything in pursuit of my wings. But experience brings wisdom, and unfortunately wisdom brings knowledge of your own limitations. My two prior Assignments taught me a lot about my strengths, but I’ve also discovered my shortcomings. I’m pretty sure tackling this project with Annex falls outside my expertise. Way outside.

  “For the time being, all we want you to do is to connect with him. Watch closely, see what they’re doing in The Wilds. Let us know if they’ve somehow gotten into the Garden of Eden. That’s all,” Raphael says, as if it’s no biggie.

  “So, I’m a spy?” I ask.

  Chapter 2

  “I’m not fond of that word,” Michael says.

  “Of course you’re a spy,” Natura blurts at the same time as Michael. He gives her a stern look and I swallow a laugh. They seem to have the same chemistry as Faith and Me, which is to say—none. And while Natura scares me, it’s great that she’s so direct. Besides, she certainly doesn’t scare me as much as traipsing into The Wilds to spy on Annex. What if he found out?

  “Do I have a choice about this?” I ask.

  Nature shakes her head as Michael says, “Of course you have a choice. You have Free Will like everyone else.” Michael gives Natura a hard look.

  “Then, I’d like to think it over,” I say.

  Natura moves toward me. “You need to be quick about it, child. We can’t procrastinate on this.”

  “She’s right, Grace. We’ll need to pick someone else if you don’t think you can do it.”

  Huh? I guess they agree sometimes. “Okay, tomorrow after classes. Thanks for letting me choose.”

  “You’re welcome. You may go.”

  I make a beeline for the door when Michael dismisses me, because contrary to what some might think, it’s not that much fun to hang out with Archangels. It’s mostly nerve wracking.

  }{

  Back during my first Mission, I’d always looked forward to lunches in the high school cafeteria. Not that the food was any good, but it was a time to catch up with everyone. This year at L’Academie, because the schedule is so much more grueling (*cough, cough* they wouldn’t know grueling if it bit ’em on the butt) we have Respite. It’s the closest thing to lunch hour that we have in Heaven.

  The Respite Hall is all white and silver. The ceiling is high, like the Tabernacle, and tall windows at the end, opposite the heavy pewter doors, provide soft daylight. Every long, oval table is decked out with a white linen tablecloth and napkins, and porcelain dishes. Candelabras with flickering, two-foot tapers adorn each table. There’s no overhead lighting, so the atmosphere is cool, soothing, and low key. I plunk down at a table with Justice and kick my feet out, crossing them at the ankles. “You aren’t going to believe what happened to me this morning.”

  “I’d believe almost anything you told me.”

  “Sure you’d believe me, but you’d never guess. Michael…” Just then I spy Mercy, with a girl I don’t know, on the other side of the gathering room. I stand up and wave my arms overhead. “Mercy, Mercy over here.” I yell the last part, because Mercy is looking all round and can’t quite figure out who’s calling her name. Finally, she sees me, thankfully before I have to stand on my chair.

  “Grace!” She grabs the wrist of the other girl, practically dragging her over to us. She plops her book bag onto the table to my left, spilling a few books as it lands with a thud. “This is Victory, a sixth year studying to be a Throne. This is Grace and…”

  “Justice, a fourth year, studying to be a Guardian,” he says, introducing himself with a bit of a smart-aleck tone to his voice. Mercy shoots a look at him, so yeah, she picked up on it, too.

  “Mercy’s my roomie since Arrival,” I say to no one in particular, but my intention is to let Justice know she’s not just a casual acquaintance.

  Before we can settle in and get to know each other, Mercy needs to know. “Soooo…how was your fitting?” Then she turns to Victory. “Grace had an appointment for her wing fitting this morning.”

  “Congratulations,” Victory says without an ounce of celebration in her voice.

  “I was just telling Justice about it.”

  He raises an eyebrow at me. “You weren’t.”

  “Well, I was. Sorta. It didn’t happen. Or rather, it happened, but it was interrupted.”

  Mercy’s eyes grow wide. “Nooo. Things always turn out like that for you. What happened?”

  I choose my words carefully. Guardians always do in the presence of other trainees. We never know if they’re judging us. And since I don’t know Victory from Adam, I’m extra cautious. Before Declaration Day, we were all AITs, but now that everyone has aligned with their echelon, I’m very aware that I, along with Justice, fall into the lowest order.

  “Michael needed to see me. He, um…teleported me right in the middle of the fitting.”

  Justice cracks up and Mercy says, “Dear Dad!”

  “He sent me back when he saw how I was dressed, but I had to go back immediately to meet with him, so Hope rescheduled me for the first available appointment. It’s not ’til next week.” In a way it doesn’t matter when my fitting is, because I won’t officially get them until the next Ceremony, but I still want to see what they’ll look like.

  “That stinks!” Mercy says. “But a week isn’t too bad. I’ve heard sometimes it can be two months.”

  “I’ve heard that, too,” Justice adds.

  “Yeah, I think she squeezed me in. Oh, and I don’t think I’m getting super-sized ones. Hope said they need to fit me properly and it’s how you use them. Anyway, that’s it.”

  Up until this point, Victory had sat quietly watching me in a way that made me uncomfortable. She tilted her chin slightly as if she was puzzled by something. “Who’s Michael?”

  “Archangel. You know, Chief Warrior and He of Big Wings,” I say.

  “Archangel Michael?” she asks in a tone full of disbelief.

  “Yes.”

  “Head of Guardians?”

  “The one and only.”

  “Why in the name of Him, would he want to see you?”

  Mercy gives me a look that I interpret to say, “Now, now.” But really, the nerve. It’s none of her business.

  And then, I realize that it really is none of her business. Michael probably doesn’t want me to say anything, even though he didn’t give those explicit instructions. I mean he did call it a secret mission, and usually secret means don’t spill the beans.

  “I’d rather not say,” I reply.

  “I see,” Victory says.

  But she doesn’t. It’s more like she’s reading Latin when she ought to be reading Braille. Thankfully, one of the AIT servers shows up to see if we’d like a refreshment, or rather a respitement. All of the servers are last year AITs. It’s one of the required classes, which acts as a permanent reminder that we are all here to serve. No getting senioritis in Heaven.

  We all order a fruit salad, prepared ambrosia style, except Victory, who just wants carrot sticks. Something about her reminds me of Lacey, the human troublemaker from my first Mission.

  When the server brings our food, Victory announces, “I need mine to go. I need to make a schedule change. I can’t waste any time today.”

  I. I. I. She’s got the perfect, uppity attitude for a Throne. Can’t wait to see her working this gig next year. The server, completely chagrined, returns with her carrot sticks boxed. “I put some dressing in there for you.”

  “I don’t use dressing,” Victory proclaims.

  Yeah. Next year will be sweet.

  The server apologizes, bowing his head. Victory doesn’t acknowledge him, but instead rushes out of Respite Hall without saying goodbye to us. I, literally, let out a breath of relief, and I swear, Justice relaxes, too. “Well, she seems…interesting,” I say to Mercy.

  �
�I just met her this morning in Advanced Stars, and she mentioned she didn’t have anyone to grab respite with, so I invited her.”

  “I can see why no one wanted to eat with her, but you’d think by sixth year she’d have some other Thrones as friends,” Justice says.

  “They’re all very competitive with each other. I see it in that class.”

  Thrones are like super Guardians, except their Assignments last a lifetime, as they’re permanently supporting those destined to become world leaders in politics and business. Last week we’d learned that at one point in history the leaders were usually royalty, hence the name Thrones. Today royalty is a lot less important, but the name has stuck. A little Angel trivia.

  At any rate, I can see where some of them would find themselves at odds during the Mission, especially in times of war and strife. Still, it doesn’t give her the right to treat us like she’s the queen and we’re her peasants.

  “So do you guys have classes together this summer?” Mercy asks, before digging into her ambrosia. She’s never met Justice before, because last semester when I got to know him, Mercy was off on a special space project. After she got back, I told her about him. And that he was cute.

  In a nerdy way.

  Like her.

  Okay, so I didn’t actually say that last part.

  “All of them,” I say.

  “Justice, has she told you what’s going on with Michael?” Mercy asks in the flirtiest voice I’ve ever heard her use. She obviously appreciates nerdy cuteness.

  “She hasn’t.” Justice rips two small pieces of paper from his notebook, scribbles on one, and hands it to Mercy. “But if you get the scoop first, call me. And I’ll do the same.” Then he hands her the other sheet and his pen.

  I have to admit—that was pretty smooth. I didn’t think Justice had it in him. Even though I know better, I look up to see if Cupid’s paying a visit to Respitement.

  Chapter 3