Chapter 16 – July 2026

Nuriel

“Winter is coming, Nuriel. And you and I are the only creatures on God’s green Earth that can stop it—we have to stop the Apocalypse.”

At Lamia’s very specific words, I freeze.

Surely, she’s wrong? One angry angel does not an Apocalypse make. And yet … and yet…

Why did the Chrysolite warrior Zophiel attack me? He must know that it was our Father who decreed I spend a human year on Earth as a mortal, so why was he angry? Does he feel that I have betrayed my celestial brothers and sisters by … by being happy? How can that be, when our Father sent me to Earth to learn? And I have learned. I have learned that I was prideful and judgmental, so our Father humbled me, and I have learned from his teaching—my understanding surpasseth all that came before it.

I think back to Zophiel’s angry words: You are part of this pestilence! And you shall die.

Would he really have taken my mortal life if Anahita had not stopped him? At the time, I was so shocked that I had merely acquiesced as if it were all some test meant to humble me further. But now I think that Anahita truly saved my mortal life.

But what does any of this have to do with Lamia? And why is she saying anything at all in front of Esther?

Esther: my beloved Esther, my shining star.

I turn my eyes towards her, begging for her understanding.

“I need to talk to Lamia.”

Esther’s eyes narrow in confusion, then she gives a sharp nod.

“Sure, but I’m coming, too.”

“I do not think that is a good idea,” I say quietly.

“No way I’m leaving you alone with her,” Esther says firmly, folding her arms and distracting me with the plumpness of her breasts.

Lamia smirks.

“I think being on Earth is suiting you very well, Nuriel,” she says with a leer.

Heat rises in my cheeks and I glare at her, feeling a rush of anger which is both new and oddly pleasurable.

“I know you two have some weird, twisted history,” says Esther, “I don’t really care about that,” although she scowls at Lamia. “But I can recognize a manipulative piece of work when I see one.”

Esther turns back to me.

“I’m sorry, Nuriel, but you’re too damn nice.”

I frown, wondering how that is possible. It is an oxymoron, certainly.

“Can’t you see that she’s trying to get you to herself so she can twist everything and tell you that black is white?”

Lamia laughs out loud.

“She’s not wrong, angel. I think I might like her. No, no… wait … no. Nah, I can’t stand her.”

“It’s mutual,” Esther says sharply, earning her a poisonous smile from Lamia.

“Esther, please.”

“No, Nuriel,” says Esther, her nostrils flaring with annoyance. “I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not leaving you alone with … that creature.”

She is as beautiful and fierce as an avenging angel, a Seraphim wielding the sword of truth. I am in awe of her.

“Fine, whatever. She can come,” Lamia sighs. “But if she loses her mind later, it’s on you, dude.”

Suddenly, I am concerned. And cautious, because truly, it has been known for mortals who meet celestial beings to find that their human minds cannot comprehend the true enormity of good and evil, and the vastness of God’s powers, of his love.

Which is why there is a strong reason, a precedent, you might say, that angels always begin an interaction with humans by instructing them to, “Fear not!”

Frankly, the sheer magnitude of a divine being’s power can be intensely overwhelming, so much so, that it can drive a mortal to immense psychological distress as they are blasted by the awe.

We angels are not human and never have been. We are highly complex entities, too extraordinary, too profound for the human mind to contemplate. Our presence can be terrifying instead of comforting. And since my time on Earth, I have learned that we angels simply do not understand humans. I am sorry to say that I had very much thought of them as lesser beings.

In some ways, I still do; but I also see that they are more than I could ever have understood as a celestial being. I thank Father for having given me this gift, this true enlightenment.

But Lamia is right: this could be very dangerous for Esther. I cannot show her my celestial self in this mortal body, but I have a feeling that Lamia is longing to rid herself of her human form and to divulge her true demonic being to Esther.

I must have faith that I can protect her, my Esther.

We follow Lamia to her car, a blood-red convertible that I have seen her driving to school.

Esther rolls her eyes.

“I should have guessed that you were the one driving this gas-guzzler.”

Lamia shrugs.

“It’s not that thirsty. If I’d really wanted a gas-guzzler, I’d have got another Dodge Challenger, a Charger Hellcat,” she sighs. “It got 13 miles to the gallon in the city, but man, driving that baby was just the best feeling. It felt like flying when I drove it along the 190 through Death Valley. Furnace Creek and Stovepipe Wells always feel so homey,” she sighs again. “Yep, 650 miles along Highway 1’s coast road. Just. The. Best.”

We’re both staring at her as she comes out of her reverie.

“Fun times, but, whatever. This Ferrari Grand Tourer is okay.”

We climb in, squeezing past the front seats and wedging ourselves into the back. We’re truly in Lamia’s hands now because there’s no way to get out of the car without her letting us.

A thread of unease weaves through me. Can Lamia be trusted? Or is this another one of her manipulations? Have I put myself in her power? Have I put Esther in danger?

Esther squeezes my hand, offering me comfort. It should be the other way around, but I know what Lamia is capable of: Esther does not.

Lamia slams the car into first gear and rockets away from the school. Esther and I are forced backwards, and I see Lamia’s vicious glee, her eyes glittering with malice in the rearview mirror.

But she doesn’t take us far. Soon, we’re out in the desert.

I know this place.

And I think I know why Lamia brought us here.

I hear crows cawing in the distance, although nighttime is not their normal time to be awake; I also hear the soft hum of insects who should be silent, a stream somewhere swirling across pebbles, a car roaring across pavement far away, an airplane overhead.

I am uneasy.

Lamia has brought us back to the start: the very spot where I fell to Earth.

We crawl from the back seat awkwardly and I stretch out my cramped spine while Esther stands with her hands on her hips, glowering at Lamia.

“Why have you brought us out to the desert? Is this some stupid joke and you’re just going to ditch us here?”

Lamia shakes her head slowly, her eyes luminous, glowing with a faint demonic crimson.

Esther shudders and takes a step closer to me.

“Do you want to tell her or should I?” Lamia asks, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“You called the meeting, demon.”

“Fair enough,” she says with a broad grin that threatens to reveal her fangs. “Okay, Snow White, this is the truth, the whole truth, and almost nothing but the truth, so help me … Lucifer.”

Esther rolls her eyes and heaves out a theatrical sigh.

“Nuriel and I have known each other a really long time,” Lamia begins. “Like … forever.”

“You’re old friends. So what?” Esther snaps.

Lamia shakes her head slowly.

“No. We were never friends. We never will be. But … my enemy’s enemy is my ally.” Lamia shrugs. “It’s a very pragmatic idea going back to the dawn of time,” and she shoots me an amused look. “But it was first written down in the 373BC in the Sanskrit treatise, Arthasastra.”

She waves a hand in the air, her fingernails painted vermillion and as sharp as talons.

“Anyway, Nuriel and I, we play for very different teams.”

Lamia sighs and yawns widely.

“Nuriel, can we just cut the crap and I just show her?”

“I don’t think that is a good idea.”

I throw a protective arm around Esther, who gives me a puzzled look.

“Tough luck, hero,” Lamia smirks. “Because I’m bored of taking the long way around just to avoid hurting Barbie’s feelings.”

“Lamia, no!”

But it’s too late. She’s already changing.

Her skin writhes as if vipers swirl beneath the flesh; her body stretches and elongates; her arms and legs shrink away and she falls to her belly, crawling in the dust as God has decreed.

Esther screams and tries to run away, but I hold her tightly.

“You are safe, Esther. I won’t let her hurt you.”

Her legs give way and I sweep her into my arms, holding her against my wildly beating chest until Lamia’s transformation is complete: the head of a woman and the body of a snake.

Esther’s soft cries wrack her from the depth of her soul, and I fear that her mind has become untethered, such is the shock of seeing Lamia’s true form.

Esther’s eyes close and she passes out in a faint, her dead weight heavy in my arms.

As I lower her carefully to the ground, I expect Lamia to gloat, to laugh, to torment me and mock Esther further, but she doesn’t.

Instead, she speaks softly.

“She seemed, at once, some penanced lady elf,

     Some demon’s mistress, or the demon’s self.

     Her head was serpent, but ah, bitter-sweet!

     She had a woman’s mouth with all its pearls complete:

     And for her eyes: what could such eyes do there

     But weep, and weep, that they were born so fair?”

Lamia looks at me, he expression wistful.

“John Keats wrote that for me. Even in this form, he found me beautiful.”

She meets my gaze and gives a small smile.

“Don’t feel sorry for me, angel. I had a choice, a long time ago. I made my decision and I have lived with it ever since. Don’t weep for me.”

“I cannot help it,” I say honestly. “I pity you, Lamia, and I shall weep for you.”

“Oh, Hell no!” she snorts, reverting to her human form with a toss of her Medusa curls. “I don’t need some loser do-gooder pitying me! I have powers that you’ve never dreamed of!”

She waves her hands in the air again, as if battling away too many bad thoughts. Perhaps that is exactly what she’s doing.

“How’s Miss Congeniality?” she sneers, gazing with scorn upon Esther. “Will she be joining the party any time soon?”

Esther fainted dead away, but her heart beats strongly against my chest and I know that our Father will protect her this bewitched night.

She lies in stillness on the ground with my arms entwined protectively around her.

“What is this all about, Lamia?” I ask. “Why all the smoke and mirrors?”

I’m not sure that she’ll answer me, but finally she begins to speak.

“Well, it’s like this,” she says, her gaze fixed on the distant stars. “I may have started a teensy little Apocalypse. It’s not my fault. Well, not completely. You see, the thing is, I thought that the boss would be pleased. Ya know, end of the world, demons roaming the Earth—good times all around. Or, you know, bad times but fun, depending on your point of view. But then my boss pointed out that it would be soooo boring if there were no souls to capture or humans to convince and persuade to do bad stuff, embrace the dark side and all that. So, he was slightly peeved and told me to fix it.”

I frown, noticing a rather large hole in her story.

“A single demon can’t start the Apocalypse alone. No one has that power, not even Lucifer, the Fallen One.”

“Hmm, well, technically, that’s true.” Her eyes meet mine at last. “Except I found a loophole.”

I stare at her, unblinking.

“A loophole?”

“Yep, just a lil thang. Well, pretty big actually. Huge. Enormous. A frickin’ gigantic loophole.”

“Lamia…”

“Alright, alright! I’m getting there! Jeez! You’re such a party-pooper. So, the thing is…”

She takes a deep breath and I am filled with the uncomfortable urge to shake her until the words rattle from her chest.

“So, yeah… I had a little chat with a friend of yours…”

That is not the beginning I had expected, but then a sort of shadow falls over me, a knowledge, a dark certainty that is more terrifying than anything I could have imagined.

“You mean Zophiel,” I ask, my voice tight with anxiety. “You spoke to the Chrysolite warrior?”

I begin to comprehend where this nightmarish story is going.

“Got it in one, angel. You’re not as dumb as you look. Yeah, so, in the same way that I persuaded you to take a bet that got you kicked out of that-place-in-the-clouds-that-shall-not-be-named…” she says smugly.

“Heaven.”

“Oh, Hell!” she complains. “Don’t say it out loud! It gives me hives.”

“Lamia…”

“Ugh, okay! Yeah, so I talked to Zophiel and just happened to mention that if he and the other Chrysolites decided to stage an Apocalypse, humanity would be wiped from the face of the Earth and everything would be pure and good.”

“And then the Chrysolite warrior host go back to Heaven,” I say, staring at her in shock, slowly absorbing what she has said. “Thus giving demons the free run of Earth for all eternity and bringing forth Satan into the world.”

She smirks at me.

“It was the perfect plan.”

“Apparently not.”

Her smile fades and her expression falls.

“Yeah, turns out that my boss…”

“The Devil.”

“Lucifer, Satan, the Devil, the Managing Director, my boss,” she hisses. “He wasn’t so keen on the idea. So, he told me to fix it.”

“The celestial balance between good and evil,” I say quietly.

“Ya know, I never really believed in that,” Lamia says thoughtfully. “But yeah, maybe…”

In some philosophies, good and evil are not true enemies but mirrors whereby the universe requires both for growth and harmony: without day, there can be no night; without suffering, how can we know happiness; without doubt, how can we experience certainty? Light balances shadows, creation weighs against destruction, and order overcomes chaos: it is the duality of our Father himself. And perhaps it answers the eternal question: why do bad things happen to good people?

And then something else occurs to me.

“Humanity has the freedom to choose, enabling evil through poor choices, and the potential for bad events to lead to greater spiritual growth, redemption, and deeper trust in God.”

Lamia eyes me suspiciously.

“What?”

“That makes perfect sense!”

“Uh, not to me. What are you talking about, angel?”

“Yes, it does! It’s all about balance. Humanity has the freedom to choose which creates a cascade of choices which can lead to redemption and the path back to God … but what if it works the other way around, too?”

“You lost me.”

I squeeze my eyes shut in frustration, praying for the words to explain my meaning.

“What if demons have the freedom to choose, too? No, let me go back further. Zophiel has the freedom to choose how he behaves, and he chose to meet with you, to work with you, which has created a cascade of choices which can lead to his being humbled by God, and brought back to Heaven in humility. This will help Zophiel to learn, as I have learned during my time on Earth.”

My eyes blaze as I gaze at Lamia, willing her to hear what I have not said, but I see only blank incomprehension in her crimson eyes.

“Uh-huh. If you say so.”

I sigh. Is she willfully ignoring the other side of Zophiel’s coin, the other side of his choice? Or does she simply not see it? Satan has blinded Lamia to prevent her from understanding God’s plan for her, and I whisper Isaiah’s words:

“Keep on hearing, but do not understand; keep on seeing, but do not perceive.” 

“Huh?”

“Make the hearts of this people calloused; deafen their ears and close their eyes. Otherwise, they might see with their eyes, hear with their ears, understand with their hearts, and turn and be healed.”

“Oh, you’re quoting from the Big Book of Jokes again, aren’t you?” she sighs.

“Do not call it that.”

“Whatever. It’s just a book filled with lies and contradictions.”

“I do not think we will ever agree on this, Lamia.”

“Meh, probably not. But forget that: what about this thing with the Chrysolites?”

“How are you planning to stop them?” I ask, both curious and concerned.

“Well, duh!” she laughs. “You and me have to work together to stop the Apocalypse.”

I stare at her, incredulous at her gross stupidity.

“And how are we going to do that?” I ask. “You’re a Grade 1 Minion…”

“Grade 2!” she snaps. “I earned a promotion.”

I continue as if she hadn’t spoken.

“You’re a minion, not even a top-grade minion, and I’m human! How on Earth are we supposed to stop an Apocalypse?”

“Uh well, yeah. That’s a bit tricky. But I thought your friend Anahita could help,” she says, giving me what is apparently supposed to be a winning smile.

I shake my head.

“No.”

“Whaddya mean ‘no’?” she shrieks. “Why wouldn’t Ms Goody Two-Wings help stop the Apocalypse?”

“She’s not here.”

“I can see that, dumbass! So, give her a call. Tell her to get her celestial butt over here.”

“You do not understand, Lamia. Anahita has gone home.”

She shrugs, still not understanding.

“So, give her a call.”

“I can’t. She’s gone home. Our Father summoned her back to Heaven.”

I see the horror dawn on her face.

“She’s really gone? As in gone, gone?”

“Yes.”

“Holy shit!”

“We are truly on our own.”

She shakes her head, her hair wild around her shocked face.

“But … but we can’t stop the Apocalypse by ourselves!”

“I know.”

“This is bad, really, really bad!”

“I know.”

“The boss is going to be so mad at me!”

“And the world is going to end.”

“Yeah, yeah. But Satan is going to be so mad at me!”

I do not think that Lamia is truly understanding the enormity of what she has done.

At that moment, Esther stirs in my arms.

“W-what happened? Did I faint? I had a really horrible dream!” and she opens her eyes, staring at Lamia with an appalled and fearful expression.

“Oh, Hell!” Lamia yells. “Stupid damned humans! Wake up and smell the coffee, princess! I’m a demon; your boyfriend is an ex-angel; the Apocalypse is nigh—and we’re all screwed.”