Page 6 of Metatron

“It is a matter of urgency.”

She stared.

She must be simple-minded, as he’d told her earlier. “Hell is coming.”

“Some would say it’s already here.” She moved from him and went to inspect the walls, running her hands over them.

“Not yet, but it’s approaching. I fear this planet has little time.”

“Little time for what?”

“To attempt evacuation and mount a defense.”

She paused and half turned. “A defense against an attack? From whom? And don’t say Hell again. I want an actual country or organization.”

“I am tired of explaining to you, woman. I need the Templar leader. He’ll understand what I’m speaking of.”

“Oh really?” she drawled. “Is that because he’s a man?”

“Because he will be versed in the Templar role as protectors against Hell.”

“They don’t need you to tell them how to do their job. Templars have already been protecting the world for thousands of years. Without them, we’d live in a much more demon-infested place.”

“Minor skirmishes compared to what is coming. If Hell makes it to your planet, they will strip it of everything and kill almost everyone.”

“You really should get some ominous music to go with that threat.” She tapped the wall, walked a few paces, tapped again.

“I am very much regretting having you healed,” he grumbled. Maybe she required a little suffering to humble her haughty attitude.

“Oh, so now you perform miracles too?” she taunted.

“I wasn’t the one to heal you. That would be Jesus.”

“Of course,” she snorted. “Who else would be hanging around a supposed angel?”

“I’m not a supposed anything. I am an archangel in Elyon’s army of light.”

“And I’m the queen of Candy Land. What are you really? Demon? Something else?”

“How can you not believe I’m an angel?” It baffled him.

“Your wings are blue.”

“And?”

“Angel's wings are white, duh.” She rolled her eyes. “And you’re like wearing dark clothing, very much not soldier of light.”

“The white uniform is only for ceremonial events, and I don’t understand what my appearance has to do with me being an archangel.”

“Oh stop it already. Angels aren’t real,” she blurted out.

“You are standing in front of one,” his dry reply.

“All right then, prove it.” A request he’d never before encountered. It left him at a loss.

“How?”

“Let me meet God.”

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