Page 78 of Sacrifice

Michaels growled his treatise to the Sun again, every word scorching his throat.

“Effunde ex sole remedium tuum,

Effunde ex sole potentiam tuam,u as

Nam indiget robora hodie,

Ut mortem certam avertat.”

When he thought he could bear no more, the taste of nectar filled his mouth. Honey sweet and soothing, the fire in his throat abated and he knew that this was sustenance for Eve. A gift from Shamash, to give her the energy she needed to fight. Michaels leaned forward to transfer the nectar from his mouth to hers, and when their lips touched, light exploded between them.

Power unlike anything Michaels had ever known surged through him. The quintessence engulfed him, consuming every fiber of his being, drawing with it every joule of his life force to pour it into Eve.

The lives of every being Michaels had ever saved flashed before his eyes: thousands of years of abused mothers, cancer-stricken children, and tortured souls. Each of them deserving of a second chance to live. Each one rescued from the oblivion of the underworld.

And she was no different.

The beam of the Sun held them both in its glow and Michael’s wings unfurled. White and shimmering with iridescent rainbows, he stretched them to their fullest, capturing every last glimmer to channel it into Eve. She would not be imprisoned in the underworld. She would not take Lucien’s place while he roamed free on Earth. He would not allow it.

With a monumental effort, he wrapped his free arm around Eve’s back and pulled the two of them up with a sweep of his wings, to bring them both into the sun’s full glare. His skin blistered with the effort of transmission. Unbearable agony racked his body. Eve arched against him in a spasm. Michaels withdrew his lips from hers, scarcely able to believe his own senses.

Golden light radiated from her skin, brighter and brighter until the intensity was blinding. Then Michaels felt the shift.

They had left the Earthly plane.

Forty-One

Eve was in another place.

The museum had gone, so far away now it may as well have been in another time, another world.

All physical sensation had ceased. Pleasure and pain, fear and longing, Lucien, her family, her job, her life - everything had gone. She was just Eve.

She opened her eyes and found herself in a space that was vast, its edges to the left and right, imperceptible in their distance. The ground beneath her bare feet was clean and white, and neither hot nor cold. It felt like death.

Am I breathing?

It was hard to tell. There was no sensation of air, no breath in her lungs, but there was energy, yes. There was something so pure that it sustained her from the inside.

She surveyed the scene. A golden throne sat on a dais in a courtyard enclosed by stone arches, through which she could see the jeweled night sky. A man, no, agod, lounged upon it, regarding her with detached interest. Quite literally radiant in simple white robes, golden hair curled down to his neck, and amber eyes scanned her from top to toe.

“Majesty,” Michaels said at Eve’s side and suddenly she realized he was there too.

She turned to look at him and saw not the unsmiling Detective Inspector, who'd plagued her every step over the last few weeks, but the shocking figure of an angel. Physically perfect, he stood tall and square-jawed, lustrously feathered white wings folded at his back.

Eve let out a little gasp at the astounding beauty of him. “Holy shit,” she said before she could stop herself.

Michaels sagged slightly and shook his head, almost imperceptibly. He didn’t look at her but kept his eyes straight ahead to address the deity on the throne.

“Shamash, God of the sun and light, lord of justice and giver of life, I am forever in your power and mercy.” Michaels bowed his head.

The god Eve now knew to be called Shamash, bent forward to lean one elbow on his knee and brushed a thoughtful finger along his top lip. He stared at Eve as if examining her soul.

Eve gaped back at him.

“You called to me, angel,” he said. “The realm of man has been quiet these centuries past.” Shamash’s eyes flickered to Michaels and back to Eve.

He stood. Taller even than Michaels, he covered the considerable ground between them in two easy strides and reached out both hands to cup Eve’s face. “Can it be?” he said in a whisper.

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