Trusting in Miracles

“We’re doing exactly what Jibril told us not to do,” Cassiel said. He folded his wings down over his body and hunched his shoulders against the cold.

“It’ll take a miracle for us to get out of here,” Raguel agreed amiably.

Remiel fluffed his wings and huffed indignantly. “Listen to yourselves. Who are we and why are we complaining about miracles not happening?”

Cassiel sulked. “Like your heavenly thunder is useful right now. We’re Watchers, Remy. We’d need Uriel or Sammael or Zerachiel or --”

“What was it Jibril told us not to do?” Remiel asked. He sounded testy.

“Do not stand in a dangerous place trusting in miracles,” Cassiel muttered.

“This is a pretty dangerous place,” Raguel said. “Maybe we should head west to Angel’s landing and hope Israfel or Abbadon pick us up on their way back to the choirs.”

“I don’t like it here,” Cassiel said.

Remiel thumped him in the shoulder. “You’re a Watcher and you know it, but you insisted on coming down with the rest of us.”

“Raguel’s a Watcher, and --”

“And Raguel is also sometimes the wrath of God,” Remiel said. “Now suck it up and start behaving. The mortals will be along to fret over the nuclear contamination. We should head over to Jerusalem to record the last battle.”

Cassiel’s shoulders drooped. “If you insist.”

“I do,” Remiel said. “March!”

Raguel held out one hand. “Look - it’s raining!”

Cassiel perked up. “It’ll wash the earth clean! See? It’s a miracle.”

Remiel wore an expression of long-suffering. “To the chariot. Now.”

(258 words)