I got up before work to write this morning, as usual, and thought I’d share another excerpt. It’s from the same chapter I shared last time. (Unedited/Unrevised Draft, When Fire Rains Down, Coming July 2018)
It motivates me to share. And I need all the push I can get right now since a revised, clean version is due to my editor June 18!
I’m also reading Lord of Shadows (Cassandra Clare) and am about halfway through. She refuels my words when I run out of them.
In addition to reading and writing, things I wish I could do 24-7 (with a running break), I’ve been busy teaching my first graders to tell time and understand 3D shapes. They’ve also been writing their own fiction. I shared a couple images on Instagram. They’re amazing writers and love it almost as much as I do.
I also became my six-year-old son’s soccer coach. Not that I’ve ever played before… Don’t ask. I think our first lesson went well?!?
“Demon-flame thrower. Self-explanatory.” Nicholas hangs it back on a hook and reaches for a double-ended sword, but is stopped short by the approaching Archangel Michael, Mila in tow. Her eyes graze the top of my head. She’s been obvious about ignoring me and I’m growing tired of her beautiful haughtiness.
Especially when she puts her hand on Nicholas’s back and leans in to tell him, “Let’s save the rest of the demos for outside. After your meeting.” She doesn’t immediately remove her hand. I narrow my eyes, wondering about their history together.
Archangel Michael takes the sword from Nicholas. He has an odd gleam in his eyes. “I haven’t seen these in some time.” He turns it slowly, examining it, running his finger over the decorative hilt between the blades. The spark in his golden eyes fades to reveal an underlying sadness, maybe tinged with some regret.
Raze moves to stand beside him and glances at Mila after silently observing Michael with the weapon. “That was Legion’s, wasn’t it?”
Michael nods, his eyes roving across the spread of weaponry. “I believe these all belonged to angels of Hell at one time, before they Fell. He turns to Nicholas. “Where did you find these?”
I wonder, watching these ageless, eternal beings, about all they’ve witnessed, about how much their eyes have seen. How tired they must be, how saddened by the evil Lucifer brought into their realm and to the physical world. When their entire existence has been about glorifying the King of Heaven, about returning all of His creation home one day, how discouraging to face so much resistance when all they want to share is peace and love.
Nicholas meets Archangel’s gaze. His face is grim, and he raises his chin as he says, “Believe me when I tell you, you don’t want to know the answer to that.”
Archangel holds Nicholas’s eyes without responding. Even the songs that play on the breeze outside the cave’s entrance seem to pause while waiting to hear what he’ll say. Nicholas is not challenging him. He appears to honestly hope to spare him a truth that will be either painful or consequential. No matter how sincere his intentions, however, looks as though he’s expecting to be reprimanded.
As much as I’m holding my breath to see Michael’s response, I’m distracted by a movement out of the corner of my eye. Mila, stiff and yet graceful at the same time, steps away from our huddle and walks along the wall, slowly appraising all the chains, daggers, and swords, until she stops in front of the only bow and arrow that’s displayed. I’m the only one paying any attention to her; The men are all head-bent over another decorated hilt, trying to decipher its meaning and recall who it belonged to. She raises a hand and whispers something as she traces the arch of a bow. She removes an arrow from its quiver. The tip, I notice, still holds a faint glow, a familiar silver that reminds me of angel wings. She glances at me, actually looks me in the eyes, and puts the quiver over her shoulder, the bow in her fist.
“Let’s get this meeting going,” she calls as she heads toward the table.
What are you reading? Taking on any tasks that are out of the ordinary for you?