Page 12 of Metatron

Her finger pointed in his direction. “Using you. Everyone needs to meet you and see that you’re real. Once we get past that part, we show them some of those Hell videos I saw on your spaceship.”

He couldn’t help but grimace. “You wish me to parade myself. Can we not simply show them holograms?”

“With today’s CGI, a video would be debunked as fake. We need you in the flesh, where my people can interact and see for themselves you exist.”

He couldn’t help a rebuke. “It is very inconvenient that your planet has chosen to forget who and what we are.”

“Get over it.” She waved him off. “You’re the one who came to me for help, and I’m telling you what has to be done. So will you stick around so I can call an emergency meeting?”

A forbearing sigh slipped from Metatron. “If I must.”

The moment he agreed, Francesca became a whirlwind of activity, her fingers flying on her phone, answering calls, and even setting up a laptop.

It wasn’t long before people began to arrive, straggling in singly or a pair at a time. Not even close to an army, which he’d already suspected given the size of their headquarters.

Eyes kept straying to him, and he heard the whispers. “Demon? Gargoyle? What’s going on?”

Not one of them said angel. He could only assume it had to do with the ridiculous wing theory, as if white were the only acceptable shade. Valor and skill were what mattered.

By the time the thirteenth person entered, Francesca clapped her hands and the room quieted. “Thank you for coming on short notice.”

“Message said it was important.” The speaker’s gaze strayed to Metatron.

“It is, Maury, but before we get started, Simon, pull down the screen please.”

A male rose to tug on a ring, which caused a white panel to descend. Francesca typed on her laptop and another device shot out a beam of light that hit the screen and then split into several boxes, each holding a face.

Curious despite himself, Metatron kept silent and listened.

“Evening, fellow Templars. My sect here knows me, but for those who manage to join us via Zoom, I’m Francesca Moretti, head of the Pittsburgh Chapter. And I’m here to introduce you to someone with an important message.” She turned and gestured to Metatron.

Time to put himself on display. Metatron held in a sigh as he joined her. There were gasps. Mostly from those projected on the screen.

“What are you doing with a demon?” hissed a portly male in the bottom corner.

“Not a demon, Clemons, he’s an angel,” she corrected. “Simon, can you video from different angles so they can see his wings are real.” A fellow with short blond hair approached with his phone, and Metatron resisted an urge to slap it out of his hand. He hated the theatrics of proving himself. It should have been obvious. His wings flared and ruffled as Simon neared. There were more audible exclamations, as he also ignited his HALO and growled.

“I am Metatron, archangel in Elyon’s Army of Light, principality of the cantorii and, given your missing shepherd and his choir, currently the one in charge of Eden’s flock.”

At his announcement, silence reigned for a moment before someone whispered, “Is he calling us sheep?”

Then a cacophony broke out, as voices shouted in person and on the screen, too many at once.

“Silence!” Metatron boomed, and his HALO flared bright, outlining him in golden light. “The Templars are sworn to God’s service, and I am now calling on that vow to ready yourself to fight, for Hell is coming.”

Laughter broke out and a derisive, “Ooh, the devil’s going to do what? Set the world on fire?”

“Behold!” Metatron gave the order to his HALO, and he showed them the destruction of a planet.

To which the same nonbeliever retorted, “Nice special effects.”

Metatron stared him down, but the bold fellow held his gaze. He managed to ask through a gritted jaw, “Your name.”

The brash one stood. “Cain.”

“That scar on your face, why have you not had it healed?” Metatron had taken note that the rest of the young male appeared fit.

Cain’s lips twisted. “Because I can’t afford the surgery. Thanks for pointing it out, asshole.”

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