Page 7 of Metatron

“God’s on Heaven.”

“Duh. Take me there to meet him and I’ll believe you’re an angel.”

“Heaven’s not close enough for us to beam.”

“Is that some weird way of saying I’m too alive to visit? Because if so, that’s a good thing. I kind of worried I was dead seeing as how this room doesn’t have a door, or windows for that matter.”

“Are you always this contrary?” he countered.

“I should have known you’d be the type who can’t stand a woman who can speak her mind.”

“I’d like it better if you spoke of the Templar leader’s location.”

“Right in front of you.”

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean? How is that an address?”

“No address needed because you’re talking to her. Yes, a dumb woman is the one in charge of your precious Templars.”

“You?” He stared at her in shock.

“Yes me.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “If you’re what the Templars have to offer, then I fear your world is doomed.”

Chapter 3

Metatron’s comment about the world being doomed would have gotten him gutted if I had a knife. I took offense at his disdain for me, especially because he based it solely on the fact I didn’t have a sausage between my legs.

At the same time, I’d not given him any reason to respect me, given I A) had been stupidly drunk, B) puked on him, and C) called him a liar this entire time. Time to stop being a stubborn idiot. Time to stop denying I argued with a living breathing man with wings and a halo. Let’s also not forget his ability to not only move me places but heal me. I’d never felt this good. Energized, awake, and alive in a way that convinced me more than anything that Metatron was an angel whom I’d royally insulted and pissed off.

And what did I do to improve his perception of me? Retorted with a sarcastic, “Behold the sexist angel here to put me in my place.”

“I don’t know what this word sexist means.”

“It means you have no respect for women and our abilities. We’re not just baby-making machines, you know.”

“Perhaps that is true on your planet. However, in most colonies, and even places outside the purview of Heaven, societies tend to run toward the masculine when it comes to ruling, the exception being the hives in the forbidden Manta Galaxy ruled by queens and princesses.”

So much to unpack in that one sentence. I shook my head. “Well, on Earth, girls are now considered on par with boys, so you’re gonna have to deal with it, Tron.”

He frowned. “My name is Metatron.”

“Which is a serious mouthful that makes me want to yell Transformers, robots in disguise.” He stared at me blankly, and I shook my head. “You obviously aren’t from around here.”

“I’m from a galaxy far away.”

I snickered. “This just keeps getting better and better, Tron.”

His lips pressed into a line. “Call me as you wish, woman. I care not.”

“Do not call me woman. My name is Francesca.”

“Very well, Francesca, leader of the Templars. I am here on behalf of God and Heaven. Your world is in grave danger. Will you answer the call to fight?”

My lips parted because the damned man glowed when he said it; his halo, his body, and most especially his eyes. I almost reached out, curious and wondering in that moment if I’d burn at the touch, but he awaited my answer.

“Before I agree to anything, I want to know more about you, and this…” I waved to the room, and as my hand passed in front of my face, I noticed something. I paused and brought my hand to my face. Where had my scar gone? I’d had it for years on the base of my thumb from when I’d dumbly burned it sliding something out of the oven. The stark white knot had disappeared; my flesh appeared blemish free.

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