“But… isn’t he always there for you? You are one of his.”
His voice grows harder. “I am. Or so I think. I can’t remember the last time I heard him, though. It’s lost in the fog. There’s still so much that I can’t remember. It burns, Benji. It’s like a fire in my head and I can’t put it out. It makes me angry. I shouldn’t be angry.”
“To be angry is to be human,” I say, gooseflesh prickling up my arms.
You know that that is not possible, the dark man whispers. Why you have chosen to take this risk is beyond comprehension.
You know what is happening to you even as you stand here, the light man croons.
Cal ignores me. “So I left, because my anger was growing. My ire. And I couldn’t handle it, not when it was… not when it was directed towards you. I left, because I needed to find my thoughts. I left because I needed to find a way to not be. I left to speak with Father. For days. For all those days in the trees, I waited. I prayed. I screamed. I asked him why. I asked him why he had forsaken me. I demanded an answer. I demanded to know why this was happening to me, why I had been tested again and again and again. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Who was he to do this to me? I’ve given him everything. I’ve done everything he’s ever asked of me. I’ve done all that I can. I’ve made mistakes, yes, but every living thing does. But what was it that I’d done wrong that caused him to ignore me? I was his son and he’d abandoned me, cast me aside as if I was nothing. I was alone in a place where no one knew who I was. At least when I was On High, I was alone because I was supposed to be. I’m tired of it, Benji. I’m tired of being alone.”
“You’re not alone,” I say, my voice cracking. “You’ve got me. Right?”
“While I was ranting, while I was raving about being alone, about being left behind, screaming that it wasn’t fair, that I’d given everything, you know what happened, Benji?”
“What happened?” I ask, sure he’s going to tell me God answered him. My own anger is growing, but not at the angel on the other side of my door. No, my anger is growing because of God, that bastard God who I am sure is the one who has taken everything from me and Calliel. He’s the one who took my father; he’s the one who caused Calliel to doubt himself. He’s the one who has caused me to doubt myself, to drown in a river I am no longer sure I can keep my head above. It was him, and he finally answered his son who was screaming his name.
But that’s not the answer I receive.
I hear Cal take a deep breath. “You happened. It was you, Benji.”
“I don’t think… I don’t understand.”
“Your thread. I saw your thread for the first time in five days, and it lit up the sky so brightly I thought the sun was rising. I thought it was the sunrise, but it was you. It’s always been you.”
“And you came for me,” I say, realization dawning. “You came for me because you got your answer. God answered you.”
“Yes,” he says. I can hear the quiet smile in his voice. “When I was at my darkest, when I was sure I’d be torn apart, your thread exploded for all the world to see. But then I realized it was only for me to see. I was the only one who could see it, and it meant he was listening to me. It’s not always going to be with words. I won’t always hear his voice in my head, and I don’t know if I ever really have. But he spoke to me, just the same. He showed me the way, and it led to you. I don’t think I’ve ever moved as fast as I did then.”
I chuckle, wiping my eyes. “You were very fast.”
“Wasn’t I?” he says, sounding pleased.
“They didn’t stand a chance.”
“Michael’s husks,” I hear him growl through the door. “They are nothing compared to me. I don’t know why he thought they could do anything. They are abominations. I don’t know why they are allowed to exist. Soulless creatures who do not serve anyone but him.”
“Will they come again? The Strange Men?”
“I don’t know,” he sighs. “Maybe, after a time. Not right away. He’ll have seen what I am capable of. And I’m sure he’s got much more to worry about than just me.”
“Are you… getting sick?” I ask, the blood roaring in my ears. “They said you were weaker. They said you shouldn’t stay here.”
“Lies,” he says firmly. “Just words. I am fine. I am strong.”
“You sent them away. You sent them into the black.”
“I know,” he says, sounding pained. “They… they were threatening you and I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t see you hurt.”
“You are not the
judge,” I remind him, allowing my words to harden. “You are not the jury. You are not the executioner.” And I cannot judge you. I can’t. Not when….
“I know.” Barely a mumble.
“You do not decide fate.”
“I know.”