Birth of an Angel 2

Which one should he choose? Remiel rubbed his chin and considered the field of Watchers before him. Every few moments a colorful splash of light sparked within the transparent globes floating through the air. Several dozen broke away from the pack at his telepathic call. The spheres bobbed gently in front of him awaiting instruction. One of them would gain form today, but which one?

A tinkle of wings sounded behind him. He turned and smiled. Raguel.

“So here’s where you’ve been hiding yourself,” she said returning his smile.

If archangels had relationships what would Raguel be to him? She encouraged and supported him like a friend. In a devious frame of mind, she teased or tricked him like a sister. On rare occasions, she ignited his passion and melted his inhibitions like a lover. With a slight shrug, Remiel dismissed the question and turned his focus back to the Watchers.

“I’m not hiding.”

He continued studying the spheres. A handful had rejoined the others. He made a tsk tsk sound. Short attention spans and neediness for group approval did not make good Elite material.

“Remiel. I know you’re still smarting from the last gathering. You know how Michael…” Raguel left the sentence open ended. Instead, she stood beside him, wing to wing, overlooking the field of Watchers.

At the mention of Michael, Remiel tensed. If Raguel was his playful, younger sister, then Michael tried to play the role of all-knowing, older brother. Remiel would never admit it to anyone, but being around Michael made him long for Lucifer’s company. At least Morningstar was entertaining.

“My selection was quite worthy of the promotion. Michael is the problem. He doesn’t think I have what it takes to create an Elite.”

“He thinks that of everyone except Gabriel and Raphael,” she snarked. “The way he acts, you’d think it was only the three of them.”

“I will make another,” he said determination filling his voice. “It will be flawless, obedient. He won’t deny me this next one.”

She laid a hand on his shoulder. Visible sparks arched between them. A bold move on her part since archangels didn’t touch. The seven of them each held the power of an entire galaxy inside making contact dangerous, yet she loved to test his limits. Raguel was always skirting the rules. She made angels full of flamboyance and recklessness.  Hers commanded attention wherever they went. None of them made good Elite material, but she didn’t seem to care. In that, she reminded him of Lucifer. Perhaps that was why they were so close.

“Careful Remiel. Maybe you should hold off for a while. Patience breeds wisdom.”

“An unusual suggestion from you, dear one. You have the least patience of all of us.” He chuckled a little to lighten the mood. “Don’t worry. If it doesn’t become an Elite, it will be pretty enough to sit amongst your progeny. I’ll give it to you as a present.”

She clapped her hands with joy making her wings jingle. He stepped away and out of her reach. Only two spheres remained in the field. Good. The Watchers had done most of the selecting amongst themselves.

“Would you like to watch?”

Raguel’s face lit up and she nodded with enthusiasm.

Which one to choose? In the end it came down to color. One sphere sparked yellow and green light, the other blue. Yellow was much too cheery for his current mood. He enclosed his hands around the blue one and settled down to work.

Taking a deep breath, he focused all of his attention to the small circle of light, willing it to grow larger until it was twice the size of his hand. Before long, a female shape formed inside. Pleased with the results so far, he shot a last burst of energy into the sphere. His hand hovered above the bubble and silver light surrounded the Watcher. He stepped back. The blue and silver sphere followed him. A few more steps, and the ball continued after him. Yes, this was the one. He pulled his new creation into the crook of one arm and headed to his work room. She would be perfect. Michael would not deny him an Elite again.


About Akaria Gale

Akaria Gale lives in Brooklyn with her husband, children and a disgruntled cat. She is a native New Yorker, slow cooker enthusiast, hard cider advocate who occasionally finds time to write about the secret world right underneath our noses. One day she hopes to give winter the middle finger and become a beach bum.

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