Seven Archangels: Annihilation
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Authors: Jane Lebak
Seven Archangels: Annihilation
Jane Lebak
Heaven is forever—or so we thought. What would happen if Satan could obliterate an eternal soul?
All angels have known since their creation that they cannot be killed, but now Satan is convinced the impossible can be done. Demons abduct and are able to tear apart the Archangel Gabriel's soul, leaving Heaven in stunned grief. If angels can be killed, where is God's justice?
Can Gabriel be saved from the void? How can Michael stop Satan from winning this final victory against God?
Copyright © 2014, Jane Lebak. All Rights Reserved.
By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the author.
Cover: C.K. Volnek
Print version ISBN: 978-1-942133-00-1
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014950436
Philangelus Press
Boston, MA USA
Table Of Contents
Dedication
To Pauline Griffin,
who always encouraged my writing
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to my beta-readers: Ivy Reisner, Wendy Dinsmore, Amy Deardon, and Normandie Fischer, without whom this story would be one convoluted sentence that had too many adverbs (Jane gushed thankfully.)
I would like to thank the hard work of everyone at
The Sword Review
and
Dragons, Knights and Angels
and
Mindflights
magazines, who encouraged my efforts by "releasing my angels into the wild" starting in 2006.
Many, many thanks to Madeline and Evan, who know why without my enumerating the reasons.
A special shout-out to Stephen, Caroline, Thomas and David, four awesome children who are brilliant, sensitive, energetic, and also just happen to be my own. And finally, much love to James Lebak, who married a work-in-progress but doesn't seem to mind the editing process.
A note from the Archangel Gabriel
November 8, 2007
Gentle Readers,
I trust this finds you growing in God's love. Angels and our stories are a lot of fun, and I hope you will enjoy the time you spend with us.
That said, human beings fail to correctly interpret a significant portion of our interactions with you, and rather than allow confusion, I've asked to compose the forward to this volume. Feel free to proceed directly to the story. If you find yourself confused by our terminology or social structure, return at that time to my introduction. I will lay it out below.
One can divide creation in a number of ways. For purposes of this forward, we'll consider angel versus human. You, presumably, are human. I am an angel. That's a division in rough strokes.
One can divide angels into two groups as well, the first being
angels
with a lowercase A, meaning any angel, and the second being
archangels
, also in lowercase, meaning angels in a position of authority. The Seven all qualify as archangels, as do the heads of the choirs .
The most frequent and useful classification system divides the angelic world into nine orders or choirs. (We do sing, but don't read too much into that unless you also believe fish go to school and lions are proud.) The nine choirs are, in order from most powerful to least: Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones, Dominions, Powers, Virtues, Principalities, Archangels, Angels. Relax. You won't be tested on that.
Each choir has its own characteristics and responsibilities. Seraphim are the "fiery ones." The word
Cherubim
means "fullness of knowledge." I'd give an exhaustive list, but Jane is only allowing me 800 words, and you'll figure it out for yourself if you pay attention.
Here's where I start getting a headache. I didn't invent English, so don't complain to me. (The one who invented English doesn't have a comment box out, so don't complain to him either.) The last two orders, you'll notice, are Archangels and Angels. With capital letters. Why this happened is beyond me, but I think the purpose was to test our patience. The upshot is, if you're referring to Raphael, you can call him a Seraph, an archangel, or an angel, and you'd be right; not every angel is an Angel (although every Angel is an angel); Michael is the only archangel who's also an Archangel. Where's my Excedrin?
Another point of order: you know those baby faces with miniature wings at the neck? Those are not Cherubim. I'm sure Satan wanted to stick it to me when he came up with those cutesy figures. A real Cherub could blow the roof off your house with one beat of his wings. Looking at him, you'd be transported with awe, not ga-ga and wanting to give him a smooch.
And while we're on the topic of Cherubim, the
-im
suffix is how you form a plural in Hebrew (ימ). It makes me nuts when someone says "Cherubs" or "Seraphs." It's not that hard. Seriously. Raphael asks me to be patient because how are you supposed to know if no one tells you. Well, I'm telling you now.
Next: for the love of little green apples, please quit calling me Gabbie, Gabe, Gabey, or Gabri. We won't even discuss what happened to the woman who tried calling me "Brie." Just, don't. God gave me a perfectly good name. Two, in fact, so if you're feeling really formal you can call me Gebher'el rather than Gabriel, but the rest of the time, my given name is just fine. It means
Strength of God
, and it's perfect the way it is. The only one allowed to use a nickname for me is my Creator, who substitutes 'el with 'li to make it
Strength of Mine
. (May all of you be so blessed as to one day hear Him say something similar.)
Similarly, Remiel is sick of hearing
Rem-ee-yell
. She's
Ree-mee-el
. I never trifle with her, so be sure to pronounce her name correctly. For that matter, archangel is
ark-angel
and not
arch-angel
. I didn't invent spelling either.
About angelic bodies: we have some control over our forms, so we can turn insubstantial, semi-solid, or solid. Usually we stay in a semi-solid angelic body, no need to sleep or eat, and unable to be killed. We cannot become human without God's help. Nor can humans become angels. Perhaps in my next 800 words I can ruminate about the theoretical three "choirs" of humans (Saints, Martyrs and Innocents) but I'm out of space.
800 words isn't a lot. If any of this doesn't make sense, email me, but I've covered the basics.
Enjoy the book. Be God's own, and remember I pray for you.
Sincerely,
Gabriel (Cherub)
PS: Raphael wants to say hi with my last ten words.
Chapter One
The mirrors around the semi-circular studio reflected endless variations of a dancing angel, the only angel to have cried when she received her name. Unleashing the power of a tornado, Remiel spun to music loud enough to rattle all twenty windows. Arms, legs and six gold wings pumping to the rhythm, she whirled about the room.
During a pause in the cacophony, Remiel turned to find Saraquael, of the choir of Dominions, standing against the corner. The volume lowered instantly, and then the music stopped as the frown of her previous concentration transformed into a grin.
He inclined his head, as if to say,
You can continue.
She opened her hands, communicating reassurance in the nonverbal manner of angels. Then, a smile still adorning her angular features, she shrugged.
"What were you playing?" Saraquael, like Remiel, was one of the Seven archangels that stand directly before God.
"I'm not sure. Israfel said it's a trend poised to dominate American radio, so she asked me to figure out if it fell under her dominion as the angel of music." She rubbed a hand through her cropped hair, then along the gentle slope of her neck. "I can dance to it, so I'd say yes." As she lowered her arm, a half dozen bracelets jangled. "What brings you?"
"I just wanted to stop by." He gestured at the dance floor. "Keep going."
"I'm done." Her clothing changed from a black leotard into jeans and a red t-shirt, but her hair remained the same, standing away from her neck to reveal a row of piercings in each ear. "Are you sure everything is all right?"
Saraquael squinted, his six teal-speckled wings opening. "Is something the matter?"
"I just… I get a sense, a danger." She shook her head. "It's probably nothing. But the universe keeps vibrating with tension like an overwound violin string."
Saraquael moved closer to her, concern clouding his green eyes. "Do you have any idea why?"
She shook her head. "No, and I'm tired of banging my head against the problem. The music didn't make it go away." Her eyes glinted like garnets as she slapped his arm. "Tag. Find me."
She vanished. Saraquael grinned before flashing away too.
He appeared in a dark exhibit hall of the New York Aquarium at Coney Island. Remiel's presence, although dampened, sparkled like a repressed giggle. He let his attention expand to cover the whole hall, all the tourists. Focusing on one end of the hall, he concentrated in turn on each of the people and things. He turned his attention to one golden fish in a lighted tank.
Gotcha!
Remiel's laugh sparked in his mind, and again she vanished. The whole search had taken five seconds.
He followed. This time, the place where Remiel felt strongest was a barred-spiral galaxy about 700 million light years from the Earth. He "felt" around for her signature, the wild smile and the trail her thoughts left in reality like the wake cut by a lake-faring sailboat. He could sense how compressed she wasn't, how she shed power like a star, how she almost wanted him to find her. Her heart felt like a beacon, but for the moment he couldn't settle on a method of pinpointing her.
