Dead Harvest

  "You're no God at all, you fucking freak. You're a scavenger at best – or even less, you're just a cog in a machine. Your only task is to collect the souls of the damned, and even in that you're deluded. This girl's an innocent, Bishop. She didn't do it. That's why I've been protecting her. That's why I can't let you collect her."

  "I'm deluded? Listen to yourself! You're not making any sense! Why would you be sent, if this girl was not to be taken? Why would the Lord himself have dispatched me to collect her?"

  "Because she's been set up," I said.

  "By whom? Who but she had motive to do what she has done? Who would stand to gain by the collection of an innocent soul? Who could possibly wish for war to erupt between the ranks of the righteous and the wicked?"

  And just like that, I had it. It was obvious, really. I couldn't believe I hadn't seen it before.

  The answer to Bishop's question fell softly from my lips, just one word, so quiet even I could barely hear it. Just one word, but with that one word, everything changed.

  "So'enel."

32.

There was no thunderclap, no flash of lightning – no trumpet's blare to announce his presence. One moment, there was nothing to my left but empty space, and the next, the angel was there. In my jail cell, he'd worn a suit of charcoal gray, but now he wore nothing at all, his tall, slender body suffused with light and impossibly bright after the dimness of the room. As before, his features were indistinct, and almost painful in their beauty, but this time, I refused to look away.

  "Collector," So'enel said, his rich baritone both confident and soothing, compassionate and strong.

  "Seraph," I replied.

  The angel looked around, taking in the scene before him: Kate, duct-taped to the chair, her gaze averted; Bishop, cowering behind her, the knife lying forgotten at his feet; and me, my silly rag-stuffed gun still trained at the spot over Kate's shoulder where, until recently, Bishop had stood. Then So'enel returned his gaze to me, his bright eyes of neither blue nor brown nor green penetrating into the furthest reaches of my tattered soul. "Tell me, Collector, why is it that you've brought me here?"

  "Because I've done it," I said, willing the quaver out of my voice, the tremor from my limbs. "I figured out who it was that set up the girl."

  The angel shook his head. "I see you're still persisting in this fiction of yours. It is understandable, I'll grant you, to refuse to believe one so young, so seemingly sweet, could be capable of such a terrible act, but as you recall, I looked into the matter myself. I assure you, the child is guilty."

  "Yeah, so you said. Here's the thing, though – I'm positive she's not."

  The angel smiled: blinding, beautiful. "Are you accusing me of lying, Collector?"

  I ignored his question. "Before, in my cell, you told me my name was from the Hebrew for 'heard by God'."

  "So I did, and so it is."

  "Tell me, what does So'enel mean?"

  "I fear I fail to see the relevance of the question."

  "Oh, I think you see the relevance just fine. It means that you're a warrior, does it not?"

  "A warrior for God, yes."

  "Right," I said. "Not much to do these past millennia, though, huh? I mean, what with the détente and all."

  "I'm sorry; I must be misunderstanding you. Are you suggesting that I am somehow involved in orchestrating an elaborate ruse to frame a poor innocent little girl?"

  "I'm not suggesting that you orchestrated a thing. No, what I'm suggesting is it was you who possessed this girl. That it was you who killed her family. That it was you who tortured her mother until the police arrived, just to ensure there'd be no mistake in determining who was responsible. And that it was you who made sure she was marked for collection, covering your tracks so well that both sides are convinced she's guilty."

  "That is preposterous," the angel said. "I am an angel of the highest order; a servant of God. I've no interest in being insulted by a lowly Collector."

  "My apologies," I said. "I mean, it's not like any other angels have ever gone off the reservation. So tell me, this God of yours, you think he was just gonna let this slide? I mean, you damn an innocent soul to hell and start yourself a war, just for a little something to do? Sounds a lot like free will to me, my friend, and that's strictly verboten in angel-land, is it not?"

  "What you're saying is heresy. You know not of what you speak."