"When this is over," Morningstar whispered, "remember me. Some things done in the name of love have a bitter edge."
With that, Morningstar let go of my blouse. Michael's reactions were fast enough to cradle my head before it smacked against the stone. I felt so foolish being tossed around like a rag doll between these two men, especially in front of Eion.
"I hate it when you rescue me." I tried to prop myself up by the elbows. Michael helped me into a more upright position. In his arms, the pain in my shoulder settled into a dull ache.
"I'll try to remember that next time," Michael said.
"Do."
From my elevated position, I looked around the church. I was surprised not to see any trace of Morningstar. "Where did he go?"
"Disappeared," Eion said, his eyes wide.
I grimaced. A sharp jab of pain shot through my arm when I tried to move it. The pain cleared my mind, and I remembered last night. "Like someone else I trusted. What happened to you, Michael? Why'd you leave me with Morningstar?"
"I needed to know if Morningstar told the truth," he whispered, not trusting himself to look at me.
"And, did he?"
"I'm afraid so," Michael said quietly.
I struggled to a sitting position. As I pulled my legs down clumsily, the altar cloth came part of the way with me. I reached out to straighten it. My body felt thick, and I stumbled. Michael untangled the altar cloth from between my legs. Eion rushed up the steps, trying to grab the chalice and candles that I'd brought down with me. The candles broke on the stone, and the chalice rolled down the stairs noisily. I stared at them stupidly, unable to do much of anything.
"I'm sorry, Eion."
Eion pushed the candle crumbs aside and sat down next to me. "It's okay, Deidre. It's okay."
"Deidre," Michael said, laying my head against the altar stone. The stone felt cool and hard against my back. "I have a lot to explain, I know. You need to know the whole truth."
"Damn straight," I said. Then remembering where I was, I turned to Eion. "Sorry about the 'damn.' "
"Dee ... don't worry about it, really." He patted my knee, then glancing over at Michael, he said, "I think she's delirious. You need to take her to a hospital ... or do something." Eion accented the last words as if they held special meaning.
I looked at Eion. Despite years on the force, I'd never been shot. Maybe I was delirious. After all, just a second ago I swore Michael and Morningstar were talking as if they were real angels, and I thought I saw wings ...
I shook my head to clear it and almost fell over with the effort. Michael reached out a hand to steady me. His hand was firm, solid, real. Yes, I told myself the conversation, the wings they were all part of some kind of fever-induced dream. That's all this was. After all, this was New York 2076, not some biblical backwater. Angels, real angels, didn't walk the Earth. Right?
"Something will be done," Michael said ominously.
"God's will be done." Eion kept his gaze slightly averted.
"There's the proof." I said, with a little smile. "I am dreaming. I think you're genuinely concerned about me, big brother."
Eion glanced up at me, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. "Of course I'm worried about you, Diedre. I always have been. I guess ..." He looked over at Michael with an odd, almost worshipful
look, "... I guess my prayers were answered."
"Right." I grimaced as pain lanced through my shoulder. I slumped back against the altar. Michael's hand rested on my shoulder, steadying me. I felt a warmth seeping through my limbs, and I breathed deeply and relaxed. My consciousness floated away from the pain. Looking at Michael, I saw his lips moving as he talked to Eion, but I couldn't make out any of the words. I wondered if I should be panicked at my sudden loss of hearing, but I felt at peace.
Around Michael's face, a thin bright light shone and illuminated the outline of his body. It was as though he were only a cardboard cutout and the prop had slipped, revealing what lay beneath.
"Deidre?" Michael's voice brought me back. "Eion is going to show us to the belfry."
"What?" Tasked. I blinked. I felt like I'd just woken up from a dream. "Why?"
"We need a safe place to stay for a while. The police are looking for us." Turning to Eion, he added, "I hate to impose, but ..."
"Of course," Eion said. Standing up, he gathered the bloodied altar cloth in his hand. "You can stay as long as you like. If we had a room free, I would offer it, but God has blessed us with a full complement of priests this year. I'm afraid that leaves the belfry or the basement for your accommodations."
"The belfry would be fine, Father. It would give us a good vantage point in case the police track us this far." Michael handed Eion the chalice and, for a moment, their eyes locked. "I don't expect you to lie for us, of course, but, if you could give us some warning..."
"Leave things to me," Eion said. "You'll be safe here."
I stared at Eion in amazement. "Thanks for doing this for me ... for us."
Eion just smiled, his eyes holding that Faith I'd envied my whole life. Instead of looking at the cross, Eion now stared at Michael. Behind Michael, a stained-glass window caught my eye. A white-robed angel stood with one foot firmly on a twisting, green glass shape of a dragon. The angel's fist gripped a fiery sword. The hand was outlined crudely in black lead, but the glass had been hand-painted to show each digit clearly. Though poised in action, the angel's face was frozen in a beatific gaze. He looked outward calmly, without the slightest hint of malice.