Uriel rolled a small ball of emerald mist between his two fingers, something Toren noticed he did when in deep thought. “Your female human holds the key. Not your wife, the other one,” as though Dorn had asked. “Jessie. She seems to have obtained one of the more valuable aspects of your power.”
“Like what?” Lyght’s diamond eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“Empathy. Compassion. And prophetic knowledge of the past and present. You need to get her an audience with him. If Socerith succeeds in winning the Pope, his first act will be legalizing birth control for the faithful. It will be heralded as progress in moving the Church into the twenty-first century, and change that's readily accepted by the rest of the modern world. A mere crack in the doorway that will lead to the complete dismantling of an already shaky sovereignty.”
“You speak as though that Church is still pure and not plagued with the grievances of man-tweak and shop keep.” Arith punctuated the gravelly pronouncement by heavily propping his feet on the onyx table, pushing the limits of Uriel's seemingly endless patience, as always.
Man-tweak and shop keep? Somebody was cramming their human vocabulary studies. Toren’s mercury braced for Uriel’s wrath. Arith was just powerful enough to trifle with the commander’s patience. But Toren understood the warrior’s need to engage his superior in a battle. Anything to take his mind off the looming damnation of gaining humanity.
“Many people think it is still pure. But we all know there isn’t a church on Earth that is entirely error free. But at the base of many of these spiritual cells is the soul-saving ingredient that allows us to navigate them through the muddied waters.”
Meron ran his hands over his face and let them drop to the table with a frustrated thump. “I for one will be eternally grateful when this Age is over. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly the ways of sin infest the human spirit and mind until there's a festering cess-pool of human dirty bombs ready to go off and contaminate not only all of humanity, but future generations as well.”
“Any good news in this batch of…” Grythe paused, searching for the word he needed.
“Shit, is the human term,” Kassern offered.
Uriel paused. “Actually, yes. I’ve decided I will go ahead and select your wives to make this process quicker. One less detail for you to concern yourselves with.”
The majority of Toren’s brothers came off their seats in booming protests with Kassern clutching his chest in mock devastation for his brothers.
“Fine by me,” Zool muttered. “Just make sure she’s extremely intelligent and tough, I cannot tolerate a senseless human.”
“Not fine by me,” Lassin said. “Just let me window shop a little longer—”
“No more time.” Uriel snapped his fingers and a viewing port that vaguely resembled a flat screen TV materialized at his side. “These are all convents we know he’s infested, and we're certain there are more we haven't found yet.” He pointed to more than a dozen random spots on the virtual map. “We need to step up this operation. I originally gave you a month to form your triumvirates. Now I need you to accomplish that phase in half the time.”
“Half!” Grythe's wings erupted with a noisy clatter of fluttering crystals.
“Perfect.” Meron patted Grythe on the back. “The sooner we get it over with the better.”
“How are we supposed to woo a woman in two weeks?”
“Trust me, it won’t be a problem. I’m finding you women who are desperate. The human is most vulnerable and susceptible to love at those times. It’ll be simple.” Uriel raised emphatic brows. "You're archangels. Do what you’re good at. Anything and everything.
“That’s darn near sounding like coercion,” Toren drawled. If he didn't know better, he'd have sworn Uriel rolled his eyes.
“Well, if you want to call utilizing instinct to lure a drowning victim into a rescue boat coercion, then fine.” Uriel swiped the air and shut off the screen. “Heavens, we’ve been coercing humanity into the ark for centuries now. Don’t go soft on me now, simply because you’ll be hauling them on your backs.”
Vektor snorted lightly. “Says the ring master to the circus freaks.” When the others looked at him with confused expressions, he shrugged. "I don't know what it means. Someone said it in one of those television things. It seemed appropriate." His words fell as flat as a race joke at the funeral of a racial hate crime victim.
Uriel closed his eyes, no doubt praying for patience before assuring his brood of whiny warriors. “You can count on me. I’ll pick excellent wives for the rest of you.”