The Angel Wore Fangs(7)

At least it was not being done in a communal setting, as it had been in the old days, but then their numbers had been much smaller. The brothers had learned a whole lot more about each other than they ever wanted to know when their sins were disclosed in front of one and all. In fact, that was the first time that Cnut had learned that his brother Ivak, the lustsome one, could . . . well, never mind.

Michael nodded to Cnut and the others in greeting as he passed. Suddenly, he paused and sniffed the air, “Do I smell bacon?” The archangel gave Cnut a head-to-toe survey, as if checking for extra poundage.

Cnut sucked in his stomach.

“Busted!” Trond whispered to him, under his breath.

“Bite me!” he muttered back.

Michael heard and gave Trond a full-body examination as well, checking to see if his laziness had come back and he might not be working as hard as he should. As if that were possible in SEALs training where the motto was “Pain is your friend.”

Trond blushed, and his body went military straight under the saintly perusal.

Cnut felt his own face heat up, as well. Being singled out at a Reckoning was not a good thing.

With a grunt of disgust—everyone knew Michael was not overfond of Vikings—the archangel went directly to the front salon where folding chairs had been set up in a circle with a wingback chair at one side, much like a throne. Michael sat and waited for each of them to be seated. Idiots that they were, they all scrambled to be farthest away. All seven were there, the leadership of brothers known as the VIK: Vikar, Trond, Ivak, Mordr, Sigurd, Harek, and himself.

Then, Michael said, “Greetings from the Lord.”

They bowed their heads at that gift.

Vikar spoke up then, “Would you like coffee or refreshments before we start? Lizzie is cooking up a storm. Even those buttermilk biscuits you favored last time you were here.”

“They were heavenly. Manna, truth to tell. But no, thank you. We can partake at the mid-morning break.” He looked at each of them, individually, and it was as if he could read their souls. Not a comfortable feeling. They all squirmed in their seats.

“Let us start with a prayer.”

Seven heads bowed.

“God bless this gathering of thy loyal subjects. Help us to know Thy path in fighting the evil Lucipires and in curing our own sinful natures. Thou art truly the light in a world of darkness. Enlighten and strengthen us. Amen.”

“Amen,” they repeated after him.

“Now, let us start with you, Vikar. How is your family? Have you finished training those last vangels I sent you? How is the castle restoration coming?”

“My family is fine,” Vikar answered. “My wife, Alex, is a writer, as you know. She wants to write a children’s book about a naughty Viking angel, if you approve.”

Michael raised his eyebrows at that. “I will discuss the project with her later today.”

“Gunnar and Gunnora are thriving. Both of them can read now, and they have prepared a special song for you, if you have time to listen this afternoon.”

“I will make time.”

“Our numbers of vangels are now up to seven hundred and fifty, spread across the world, and twenty still in training. Sadly, that is not nearly enough. Jasper’s minion troops are growing. According to Zeb, they are flourishing with the rise in terrorism, perhaps even causing it. And he is about to appoint several more haakai to his high command, replacing Dominique and Haroun who were sent to their final hellish rewards. Zeb says these replacements are a most evil lot.” The Zeb referred to was Zebulan the Hebrew, a Lucipire double agent who had hopes of one day becoming a vangel.

Trond was next. He and his wife, Nicole, were Navy SEALs in Coronado, California. Well, Nicole was in WEALS, Women on Earth, Air, Land, and Sea, a female equivalent of SEALs. Trond spoke of the special forces’ efforts to combat terrorism. In many ways, the vangels and SEALs were the same, increasing their ranks in a seemingly endless fight against tangos, or bad guys.

“And how is our Southern headquarters coming?” Michael asked Ivak.

Ivak, who was stationed as a chaplain at Angola Prison—an irony since he was guilty of the sin of lust—was married to lawyer Gabrielle Sonnier, and they had a son, named Michael. Something that was never supposed to happen since vangels were sterile. (Yes, Ivak, the world-class suck-up, had named his son after the archangel.) Vikar and Alex’s children were “adopted,” so to speak. Like Vikar with the endless renovations to the Pennsylvania castle, Ivak was restoring a rundown plantation in Louisiana.

“Can anyone say ‘snakes’?” Ivak said. “The snake problem halted our progress for a while, but I hired a snake catcher, and we are moving along now. Some people down there claim there are one thousand species of snakes in the world, and nine hundred and ninety-nine of them live in Louisiana,” he joked.