Are You Trying to Convert Me, Michael?

The outskirts of Heaven were lush, green, a paradise. Trees swelled with glittering fruit. Morning dew sparkled on the flower-laden fields. We followed a dirt path through a meadow, bordered by forest, to burning gates. An angel stood guard with a sword. Her umber skin was tattooed with spirals and she wore a veil, like Michael's soldiers.

Samael saluted her mockingly. "Uriel. You look constipated, as usual."

Uriel shouldered her blade. "Come slithering back for forgiveness?"

Samael smiled without warmth. "I'm afraid that's not the case. Just escorting the Magdalene to Michael, who seems to be in desperate need of her. He could have called, you know."

"Whatever." Uriel scanned us. "Henry, what took so long?"

"She had to be plied with wine," Henry said.

"You said the moscato was a peace offering!" I said.

Henry flashed me a crooked grin. "Same difference."

I put my hands on my hips. "I never should have trusted you."

Uriel, who seemed reluctant to display emotions, gave a hesitant smile. "You two always squabbled."

"Huh?" I said.

Uriel nodded. "Even when you were kids. Adam would pull your hair; you would bite him for no reason. It was amusing."

Henry looked as uncomfortable as I felt.

Uriel's face hardened, humor gone. "The Magdalene and Henry can enter, but only them. You know the rules, Sam. No fallen can enter Heaven."

Samael faked offense. "What? I'm not invited to brunch with the piety posse?" He looked to Arietta, Divya, and Rosanna. "Start gathering rocks, girls. It's going to be a long morning."

Henry motioned for me to follow.

"Be careful, Shannon," Samael said. "Michael won't make a move on you – when he offers a truce, he means it. But that doesn't mean you can trust him."

"Okay," I said.

Uriel approached Heaven's gates. She thrust the tip of her sword into a blazing lock and twisted it. The gates inched open. Past their flaming glory lay a city of wonder, rising above the trees like New Jerusalem. Rosanna gasped.

Uriel motioned for us to enter. I walked in behind Henry, in awe. I found myself in a city indescribable to human tongue. I followed in a daze, past multitudes of angels, into some sort of building stitched of dreams.

Burning wheels spun under the ceiling, strings of words and sparks. They descended and took human form. Michael stood at the front.

"You look well-rested," the archangel said.

I was on guard. "I guess."

Michael folded his wings. "Henry, thanks for bringing her."

Henry nodded. "Sure thing." He walked into what became a hallway, the building ever-shifting, like a Rorschach ink blot.

Michael smiled slightly. "I trust your trip was comfortable?"

I looked to the other angels, all watching me, and the hair on the back of my neck rose. "Sure. Um, what do I do?"

Michael tilted his head to the wall. A doorway appeared. "This is my Father's throne room, where we keep our most treasured possessions. The Holy Grail is this way."

The angels murmured amongst themselves. I followed Michael into some sort of garden, if prayers were flowering plants. The whispers of millions echoed around me. A swirling cloud formed a table, enshrining a stone chalice. It pulsed with light, red as a cardinal. Michael looked upon it with reverence.

"This is the vessel of my Father's blood," Michael said, voice sorrowful. "It is His promise to humanity. Even though it is just a symbol, it pains me that we must destroy it."

I was quiet. I wasn't sure if Jesus was the Son of God, but the thought that Christ's lips might have touched the vessel, and the fact that it had carried the first Eucharist, stirred my Catholic roots. I couldn't bear to touch it.

"I can't do this," I said.

Michael's eyes were gentle. "It's just a symbol. What matters is humanity's safety. Raziel can return to Heaven any time he wants – he's an archangel. But what will be here to tempt him of the Grail is gone?"

"But this doesn't feel right."

Michael stared at the chalice. "It's not meant to be easy."

I took a sharp breath. "Okay. What do I do?"

There were tears in the archangel's eyes. "Take my sword and touch its tip to the Grail. I'll take care of the rest."

"Why do you care about the Grail so much? It hurts you just to look at it," I said, voice quiet.

Michael's gaze was heavy. "My Father is gone. This is the only physical reminder of Him that I have left."

"Gone?" I said.

Michael hung his head. "Father is a wanderer. He closes His eyes and casts Himself across the stars, seeking multitudes, charting all things that will be. He is travelling now. He rarely speaks to me - not like He used to. I touch the Grail, and I can hear Him, like the sea in a conch shell. It helps me remember how things were."

I couldn't help but ask Michael a question: "Why do you do such awful things in His name, if He doesn't even tell you to do them?"

Michael gave a weary laugh. "Awful? Shannon, there needs to be order. My Father is gone. That is why I execute His will. The worlds are falling into ruin – false spirits run amok, calling themselves gods, trying to assume His mantle. But they are mere candle stubs in comparison to His glory. If you could only remember Him, you would know God's providence - how true He is, how pure. There is a reason I serve Him, why I prostrate myself at the altar of His love. He is all there is, and He is all there will be. The rest is chaff."

My skin prickled. "Chaff?"

"Yes. Now let this deed be done, before I change my mind."

I steeled myself. "Okay, Michael. If you're sure."

He unsheathed his sword and handed it to me.

The sword was surprisingly light. I touched its tip to the Grail. The chalice flashed crimson. My hands stung with heat.

Michael began to sing, a deep, rich voice, so unlike Samael's rough song. The fire of his blade danced with the melody, down its length, and spread to the chalice. The Holy Grail resonated, like a tuning fork, and glowed white hot. Without warning, it shattered.

Michael stopped singing. He sunk to his knees and gathered the Grail's pieces as if they were baby bones.

I set his sword on the ground.

"Thank you," Michael said, his voice hoarse. He tucked the shards of the Grail into the pockets of his robe. "I'll – I'll escort you back to Samael."