Before the Fall (2 page)

He turned to his petite companion. “Yes. I am sure. We were sent to bring comfort to them. How can they feel comfort without touch?”

Her brown eyes widened at his words. “Michael would be angry if he found out.”

Raphael smiled. “Then let’s not tell him, shall we? They have been removed from their homes, shunned by their family. They have suffered enough.”

“They’re afraid. These people show all the signs of leprosy and have been declared unclean.”

Raphael frowned. “They are still His children. They deserve any comfort we can give them.” He looked down at her. “We may not be allowed to heal their bodies, but we can heal their souls. The mere touch of a loving hand can mend a broken heart.”

She looked down at her hands. “I’ve never touched a human before. What does it feel like?”

“Warm, alive. It’s like no other feeling I’ve ever experienced. The Most High has created a magnificent creature.”

“I know the feeling.” Her eyes gazed in the distance, and by the expression on her face, Raphael knew her thoughts were of Uriel, Heaven’s Archangel of Death. If it hadn’t been for Gabrielle telling him about Raguel’s growing feelings for Uriel, he would’ve never known. He was not one to notice such small things. Thankfully, Gabrielle had sent Raguel on this Earthly mission with him, in hopes that she would get distance from Uriel. Though there was good deep in Uriel’s heart, lately he walked a fine line between good and immoral, much like Lucifer.

Lucifer was a dear friend to him and admired by all in Heaven. Although lately, Raphael felt discomforted by some of the outrageous suggestions Lucifer had made to him. Over the years, Lucifer had amassed himself a number of followers, or
friends
, as he preferred to call them. He talked of how God loved humans more than his angels. He claimed that angels should rule humans, rather than serving them. At one point, he had even suggested that angels breed humans out by taking humans as wives and creating a master race greater than the one God had created.

Raphael shivered at the thought. It was when Lucifer showed his envious side that Raphael saw evil taking root within his friend.

He looked at Raguel and the soft expression on her face. His brow furrowed with worry. Her love for Uriel would test her if he chose the path of immorality. Like humans, all angels were given free will. He worried about her. Her only salvation was that the selfish Uriel did not appear to reciprocate her feelings—he was too infatuated with himself.

“Do you know how to change form?”

He took her hand in his, ready to assist if necessary. It was rare for any of the angels to be sent to Earth. Most of their work was limited to watching over people from the Heavens. When angels were sent, they rarely took on their human form. He himself had only done so once . . . with Archangel Michael’s permission.

“No. Is it difficult?”

“Not at all. First, you must fold your wings into your body.”

“They can do that?”

“There are many things we can do. You are not aware of the gifts we have compared to humans.”

“Well, I haven’t really interacted with them. It’s my first assignment on Earth,” she said as she moved her shoulders back and forth, face scrunched as she tried to figure out how to fold in her wings.

He sighed. “Unfortunately, it might be the first of many more to come. I recall a time when angels were sent to Earth maybe once or twice a century. Now, the frequency has risen, and I fear we will be needed more in the future.” For some strange reason, Lucifer came to mind as he said that. He shook the thought away.

Raguel stopped flapping her wings.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said.

He circled around her and placed his hands on the back of her shoulders. “It works better if you stand still. Now, pull your shoulders back and turn the shoulder blades inward as if you were trying to get them to touch each other.”

“Like this?” Her small chest puffed out as she pulled back her shoulders.

“Yes. Very good. Clench your back a little and your wings should—”

With a loud whoosh, she stumbled forward, wings snapping into her body.

“Ouch! Does it always hurt like that?”

He chuckled and held out his hand to help her up. “You clenched a bit too hard. You will get used to it with practice.

“You make it sound like this won’t be the last time I’ll need to change into human form.”

Perhaps even more than is anticipated,
he thought.

“What’s next?”

“Focus on the core of your being. Right here.” He placed two fingers at the center of her abdomen. “Now push outward as if you are trying to push away my fingers from your body.”

“Like this . . . whoa! There’s something mushy underneath my feet.” She lifted her foot and looked at the ground.

“That is sand.”

“Does all the land feel like this?” she said, placing her foot back down and wiggling her toes.

“No, just the sand,” he said as he headed toward the tents. “Come, your first contact with humans is something you will never forget.”

A
s they neared the cluster of tents, Raphael saw a young woman struggling to place a large pot over a fire. A small boy with thick dark hair clung to her leg, making the task difficult. She wore a long robe that was clean but bore small tears that needed repair. She wore her headdress wrapped around her throat and over her mouth, with her bright brown eyes peeking out of the top. As she moved, the sleeves of her robe shifted up, revealing sores on her arms.

“Here, let me,” Raphael said as he rushed to help her.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You can call me Raphael,” he said as he placed the pot over the fire.

“I am Miriam. Please do not think me ungrateful for your help, but you must leave at once.” She looked to Raguel and then to him. “Do you not know what this place is?”

Raphael glanced at the little boy. “Yes, we do. We are here to assist you and bring comfort.”

“What comfort can you bring? You will be shunned like the rest of us if the people of Ai see you here.”

“We bring you word, His word that you are loved and have not been forsaken.”

Miriam looked sadly at him. “It is difficult to believe that when all others turn away from us, no matter how innocent.” She hugged the boy against her.

Raphael reached out to her and she gasped at his touch. A look of peace swept over her face. “All are His children. Have faith.”

“Thank you,” she breathed.

“And who is this fine young man that clings to you?” Raphael smiled at the little boy. Big brown eyes peeked out from behind Miriam’s dress.

“This is my son, Ethan.”

Raphael squatted to the boy’s eye level. “Hello, Ethan.”

Ethan ducked his head back into his mother’s robes.

“Ethan,” the woman said, exasperated. “Forgive my son. He’s not normally like this. Ever since we were told to leave the city, he’s grown cautious of strangers.”

Raphael nodded. Before he and Raguel left Heaven, Michael had shown them how the diseased were physically removed from their homes and pushed out of the city gates.

“My companion and I have heard about what happened. We are here for a short time to bring you any help we can. Is there anything we can do for you?”

Her lips curled into a smile. “Yes, there is. I can grind the grain more quickly without Ethan underfoot.”

“I think I can find a way to occupy his time,” he said. He looked down at the marks on the boy’s arms. He wondered where Ethan’s father was. He didn’t ask. He suspected that the father had shunned his own wife and son. How could anyone shun one of their own?

“Ethan, would you like to hear a story?” He held out his hand to the boy. “It’s a story about a little boy who was healed by a nice and handsome stranger.”

Raphael had been told to only bring comfort to the outcasts. It was difficult to look at the people who were suffering and not be allowed to heal them.

Ethan slowly peeked out of his mother’s robes. Thick eyelashes hooded his eyes as he gazed at Raphael’s outstretched hand. He looked up at his mother.

“Go on. I’ll be right over there.” She pointed to a pair of grinding stones nearby. “And if you’re good, you can have dates with your meal.”

Ethan’s eyes lit up. “Yes, Mother.” He then took Raphael’s hand.

“Thank you,” Miriam said to Raphael while she hurried over to the stones. “I won’t be long.”

“Raphael,” Raguel whispered as she watched the woman hunch over the stones and move one of the stones over the other, rocking it back and forth, creating a powdery substance. “What is she doing?”

“Grinding the grain to make flour.” Raphael led Ethan to the front of a small tent. “Yours?” he asked the boy.

Ethan nodded.

Raphael sat down and pulled the boy onto his lap. He touched the boy’s arm and winced at the sight of chubby hands marred by disease. The poor boy. Someone as beautiful and innocent as this young one shouldn’t have to live with such an ailment.

The boy looked up at him in awe, and Raphael’s heart melted. He knew he could heal Ethan. He had been recently promoted to the Archangel of Healing. Bestowed with the gift of healing, he could easily cure the boy. He was sure he would be forgiven if he did. The boy was so young to have to suffer as he did.

“Hold still, Ethan,” he said as he hovered a hand over Ethan’s arm.

“What are you doing?” Raguel asked in a surprised whisper.

“I’m healing him.”

“That goes against Michael’s orders!”

Raphael paused and looked up at Raguel. She was right. As much as he wanted to help Ethan, he wouldn’t be setting a good example for Raguel’s first mission.

He sighed, dropping his hand. “Yes. We are here to comfort and bring words of faith to the people here.” He patted Ethan’s arm.

“I’m not sure how.” She wore a worried look on her face.

Raphael looked around at the people near the surrounding tents, and his eyes rested on an elderly man, his skin browned by the relenting sun. Next to him was a goatskin water bag. “Over there.” He pointed to the elderly man. “Offer to bring him some water from the stream. His bag looks empty.”

Raphael watched Raguel with interest. He remembered the first time he came in contact with a human. They had so many emotions, passions that were often carried to the extremes: happiness, sorrow, anger, love. They were filled with a radiance of energy that was deep within their souls. Angels were not too different from humans. Yet, he felt the angels kept their emotions in check. It was as if they were afraid to let their feelings go, to appear less than the perfection to which they were created.

The first time he touched a human, he felt an instant connection. It had been then that he realized humans saw him as a divine creature. What was interesting was he had felt that way about them. He longed to tell others of his experience. He wasn’t sure the other angels would understand. Even his close friend Lucifer thought it was nonsense and discouraged him from telling the other angels.

“Sir,” Raphael heard Raguel say to the elderly man. “I will get some water for you from the stream.”

The old man lifted his head. His lips trembled as his eyes rested on Raguel. “Rachel?”

Raguel looked over at Raphael, confused.

He shrugged.

“My name is Raguel,” she said to the old man.

“You look like Rachel.”

“Who’s Rachel?”

“It was my daughter’s name. I thought you were her. I thought the Lord had answered my prayers and sent her back to me. She was too young to be taken.” His hand shook as he reached out to her.

“You look just like her, so beautiful.” He stopped before he reached her cheek and pulled his hand away. “So much like her.”

Rachel knelt in front of him. “What happened to your daughter?”

“They came after me when I was struck with leprosy. The soldiers ordered me away, and I was willing to leave. I have lived my life. But Rachel, she would not let go. She begged the soldiers to spare me, and when they didn’t, she grabbed hold of one of the soldiers, and he . . . he struck her down with his sword.”

Raphael heard her let out a small sob. He watched as her hand reached out toward the old man. She paused and glanced back at Raphael.

He nodded with encouragement. “Go on,” he muttered under his breath.

Swallowing, she rested her flawless hand on his wrinkled one.

Raphael smiled at the expression on her face, and he knew she felt it—the unconditional love for His most magnificent creation. How could one not feel it? He knew once the other angels came in contact with humans they would be able to feel what he had. Perhaps that was what Lucifer needed. Surely if he walked among them and got to know them, he too could grow to love them. Perhaps when he returned, he would talk with Michael about it.

“You remind me of her,” the old man said. “Ragu—What did you say your name was?”

“You can call me Rachel. It would be an honor for me to have the name of such a brave woman as your daughter.” She glanced at Raphael. “From now on, I am Rachel.”

He gave her a nod. It didn’t surprise him that Raguel . . . Rachel, would do something like that. She loved deeply. She was a young angel and in many ways innocent to the workings of Heaven and even Earth. She was the opposite of Uriel, who only thought of himself. If Uriel knew how much she cared for him, it would be a danger to her. Raphael hoped for Rachel’s sake that Uriel would never discover her feelings for him.

“Now, Ethan. How about that story?” He was about to start when he heard a low rumbling of angry voices in the distance. He looked toward Ai and saw a mob of people near the city gate, marching in their direction.

Raphael stood and lifted Ethan into his arms. The mob headed toward them appeared to be made up of men from the city. Most of them wore multicolored coats over their robes—something only the wealthy could afford to wear. Using his gift of enhanced sight, he could see the fear beneath the anger in their eyes. It was understandable that they would be afraid the disease might spread into the city. It was that same fear that could turn even the godliest of men against his brother.

Raphael looked at the people in the tent community. They had been thrown out of their homes once. Where else would they go?