Rook is missing.
My fault.
Why was I not attuned? What was my reasoning? -- Oh yes, I remember: he's Malakim, they can take care of themselves, yes, of course. What -- *who* -- has the audacity to snatch a Malakite? Answer: a bigger, stronger being than I, or someone with a lot of back-up. They have to know we are here. They had to have watched, seen the fight with the Shedite, seen us all *leave him alone.* Damn my temper. Damn his. Damn me for an *idiot* who knows that demons snatch up lone angels when we have made as much *noise* as we have. Damn me for a *fool* who knows the Tether count in this region. How many factions of Hell have we attracted? Two? Three? *Which one has him?*
I am a Guardian. How many failures of that task can I count? Too many. This time -- just a failure of temper, airing heresy in front of those with faith. Stupid, Jael. Let him believe what he will. Saying things solely to wound...those whom we least want to wound. Ah, damn me. Our differences are a matter of Word and Choir - nothing that we can change, but things we can tolerate. Why did I choose tonight to snap? What difference, in the scheme of the Symphony, that Rook interfered where I would not? He *did*, that's all. Fighting about it can't change it. What does a Michaeline Malakite need to know about human emotional needs? Especially Rook, who manifests less emotion than the Elohim? Stupid, to yell at someone for being who they are. Stupid to be hurt or angry because they are behaving *exactly* as they always have.
Small wonder he finds me an erratic Creationer. I am. I feel too much. Like now: fear and guilt tighten my chest until breathing hurts. No panic, Jael, just *think.*
What is the worst they can do? Send him to his Heart? It's just a vessel, and for him there is no trauma. They cannot make him Fall. But they can take him apart, Force by Force. They can maim his vessel, they can make him lose hope, they can lie, they can make him believe we've abandoned him. Please, Eli, let him be silent. Let him say nothing that will tell them who he is, let him not end up in Baal's hands. They could break him. I do not even want to give that thought the energy of my attention. But I have watched so many Fall -- surely the breaking of a spirit is easier than Falling. It's all despair. It's all a terrible erosion of belief in one's self, and in one's purpose.
I have walked that path. Please, Eli, that he never does.
Please, Eli, that my angry words to him do not weaken his spirit.
May the chains that bind his soul to heaven *hold him*.
Why is it that the last words are always angry ones, when there is no time to take them back or amend them or say what one feels?
I stand here now, feeling the last faint vibrations in the Symphony as my Archangel leaves me. Arabis has taken wing, is circling above me. The phone sits in my hand, silent -- I have told Rashi Rook is missing. She and Bob and Matt are coming. But we cannot wait. Arabis and I cannot afford to wait.
Eli said, "Check the fields." Check we will.
Damn me three times for a fool.
Eli *knows.* Sometimes I wish he took the firm hand Dominic does, and swatted me for my transgressions. But his punishment is worse -- he sees into the heart, and he knows your flaws, and he *forgives.* He knows that my punishment will be living with my mistakes, not in punishing me for them. And he cannot exorcise the guilt from me.
I lost my temper. I walked away. I left him alone.
Why the fields? Why did he leave the house? Did they lure him away? Damn, Rook -- you're too smart and experienced with tactics to be ambushed. That attunement of yours -- you hear danger coming. And still -- they must have sneaked up on him, somehow, because *Rook* would not just *leave.*
Arabis calls out far above and makes a black streak for the fields my Bright Lord told us to search. I stare at the phone a moment more, then carefully dial the Destiny Tether in Boulder.
Giles, calm and unflappable, answers: "Giles here."
I trust my voice is recognizable. "Rook has gone missing. I think Hell's involved."
Pause. "Oh dear." I can almost see the expression: the hardening of eyes and jaw, the cold anger of Cherubim when loved ones are threatened. "Do you know who might be responsible?"
I list out my hunches: "Factions, Nightmares, maybe Fate, but not sure. Giles -- can you check his Heart? Or get someone to look?" He could be Up There already, I think, but I do not say it. I don't believe it. They wouldn't let him go so easily.
"I can. Once someone looks -- if he is where you suspect -- there will be reactions."
I can think of worse things than War angry and on our side. "There's a Tether to War here, and there's Laban-Lael's Tether, too. However the cavalry wishes to arrive, it matters not to me." If they sent a cavalry, that is. I do not count on any more strength than we can muster ourselves. War is not the Sword, to become fixated on honor and details, but even so -- there might not *be* anyone free to help us. Arabis is Fire, and Rashi I have fought with before -- it is not a *bad* combination, but rather too few.
"I will inform the War Seneschal at Norad. -- Do you have any idea why they took him?" I hear paper crackle: Giles takes notes the old-fashioned way, by hand.
I step carefully over a curb. "He soul-killed a Shedite -- of Factions, I think -- last night. He vessel-killed a Djinn the other day, and we think *it* was Nightmares."
"Revenge, then, is the likely motivator." Scritch, scritch, pencil on paper.
"Send help down if you can." I know he will, but still...it makes me feel better to say it.
Calm as an Elohite, with the faintest angry edge only a longtime friend would notice: "I will. I'll call when there's news."
"Let me call you..." I am almost to the fields now; Arabis has landed, is peering at the earth. Tethers...no, I do not want the phone to ring unexpectedly. "I may need to have the phone off for awhile."
I can *hear* the quiet disapproval. "Don't do anything rash, Jael."
"Thanks, Giles." Click. The phone is folded and deposited in a pocket. I do not lie to him...I *will* do rash things. I will enter a Tether to Hell, I will take on a Seneschal if I must, I will follow a demon to Hell and find Rook, in whatever condition, and bring him back. Judgement will flay my Forces for daring this, but let them come when it is over. If I fail, and we lose him, then they cannot punish me enough. If we succeed, then they can natter on all they like. Giles knows it, too.
One last thing...I stop, gather my Essence, and sing for a minute, crafting a message in my mind. *We are coming.* The Song succeeds, and my words fold away into the Symphony. If Rook lives, he will hear them.
That will have to be enough.
Please, Eli, that it is enough.
We are coming.