Page 5 of Metatron

“What’s wrong with her?” Jesus groused as he headed for the bed.

“Intoxication.”

Jesus halted and whirled. “That’s not an injury.”

“She is incapacitated, and I need her coherent.”

Jesus huffed. “How will she learn her lesson on over-imbibing if I heal her?”

Metatron simply stared. Long and hard.

Jesus sighed and sulked his way to the woman’s side. He knelt and placed his hands on her. A glow immediately encased them both.

While Jesus worked, Metatron did a check-in via his HALO to see what had happened while he’d been out. The ship eagerly let him sift its surveillance records. There were times he thought he felt a glimmer of emotion. Could it be the cantorii peaked early and would soon be achieving ark sentience status? The floor vibrated under his feet as if the cantorii heard him and replied.

Jesus stated, “It’s done. She should wake any moment.”

“Thank you.”

Jesus rose and tucked his hands into his pockets as he stared down at the woman. “Who is she?”

“Someone with information.”

Jesus glanced at him. “You know I could have just rifled her memories to find it.”

Rather than shudder in distaste at the offer to dig inside her mind—and leave it scrambled—Metatron dismissed Jesus. “I have the situation in wing. You can return to your previous activity.”

Jesus cast one last glance at the woman before slinking out. Metatron really should do something about God’s scion before anything happened. Jesus might appear benign, but he had too much power—and a cruel streak.

The woman stirred, yawning and stretching, rolling to her back, her clothes filthy. He grimaced as he ordered the ship to cleanse her. It led to the female sitting suddenly upright, eyes wide, wiggling and shaking.

“Eep. What’s that tickle? Stop.” She squirmed as the ship removed all traces of foulness from her skin and clothes. When it finished, and she stopped jiggling, she looked around, taking a moment to notice her surroundings. Craning her head, she passed a glance over him a few times before narrowing her gaze.

“Where am I?”

“My room.”

“You fucking kidnapped me!” she yelled, rising from the bed.

“You refused to give me the information I requested.”

She advanced on him, cheeks bright with fury, matching her sparking gaze. He’d not noticed before the beauty she presented. Now alert, her expression fierce, he couldn’t help but see not only her striking features framed by dark hair but her shapely figure.

“You made a big mistake,” she snarled as she neared enough to swing a fist.

He caught it, slightly surprised. In Elyon’s army, only male angels ever fought. The rare females, wingless and beautiful, remained on Heaven. On Eden, a place the humans had renamed Earth, the two sexes comingled, the females in positions of power usually unheard of in most colonies. Very few ever established matriarchal dominance. None ever showed such parity of position like Earth.

A foot followed the fist and hit him in the ribs. He could have shielded but didn’t. Instead, he blocked her blows, his bracers harder than her little fists.

Soon she blew hotly and glared but, recognizing she wouldn’t prevail, showed intelligence at last and held her hands by her sides.

“Done?” he asked.

“Only until I find something sharp.”

Her threat rolled right off his wingtip. “Now that you are coherent, you will tell me where to find the Templar leader. I need to speak with him at once.”

“Why?” she countered.

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