The Angel Wore Fangs(8)

No one laughed, having heard that exact complaint hundreds of times already.

“Anyhow, the former slave quarters are now remodeled into apartments, and I should be able to house a hundred more vangels by the end of summer,” Ivak went on.

“And not soon enough,” Sigurd exclaimed. Their physician brother was retrofitting a Key West island hotel into a hospital for sick children, a front for another vangel headquarters. “We are so crowded on Grand Key Island, some of the vangels are having to sleep on boats.”

“Spoiled! You Vikings are spoiled.” If Michael had his way, they would probably be wearing hair shirts and sleeping on thorn bushes. “Was a time, if you recall, when sleeping on the ground was good enough.”

Cnut remembered. They all did. Those first years as a vangel had been rough, to say the least. When they’d been lucky enough to find a cave, they’d considered it a luxury comparable to a Hilton suite today.

Harek, the smartest of all the VIK, told them then about the Caribbean island he was converting into an electronics center that would bring vangels into the computer age. Really, to fight modern-day Lucies, they had to become modern-day vangels, or so Harek contended. Harek was the last of his brothers to be wed, and that despite Michael’s initial warning that none of them were to be involved with women. He’d married Camille Dumaine, also a member of WEALS, last year.

“And when will my archangel website be ready?” Michael asked Harek.

Michael had been badgering Harek for years to set up an Internet site for archangels to help humans.

“Um,” Harek said, his face red with embarrassment. It wasn’t Harek’s fault that he’d failed to create a cyberspace home for the archangel. In fact, with his skills, Harek could probably build a website in an hour, but Michael kept changing his mind about what he wanted.

In quick order, Michael got updates from all the VIK. He turned to Cnut then and asked, “What art thou doing about ISIS?”

“ISIS?” he said dumbly.

“Do you not know of this ISIS?”

“The Islamic State of Iraq and al-Sham. Formerly aligned with Al-Qaeda. A worldwide terrorist threat,” Cnut regurgitated a Wikipedia-like definition. That’s about all he knew.

Michael nodded. “Destroy it.”

“Huh? What? Me?”

“Are you not our security expert?”

“I am.”

“Is ISIS not the greatest threat, equal only to the Nazi Holocaust or the evil Roman Empire?”

Cnut nodded, hesitantly, not sure what this had to do with him.

“That will be your goal for this year. Destroy ISIS.”

“Me? Alone? How will I do that?”

Michael shrugged. “That is not for me to say.”

Aaarrgh! That is Mike-speak for “Figure it out, Viking.”

“Did you say something?” Michael inquired, too sweetly.

“You do realize that armies from around the world, not just the United States, have been fighting ISIS for years, and they just keep growing,” Trond pointed out to the archangel.

Thanks for intervening on my behalf, brother. Cnut gave a nod to Trond.

“Jasper’s influence, no doubt,” Michael agreed.

“How can I do what thousands have failed to do?” Cnut asked.

“Not just you. All of you.”

His brothers sat up straighter, no longer complacent that Cnut was the only target of Michael’s outrageous demand.

“Jasper’s evil hordes, and ISIS because of the Lucipire evil influence on some of its members, will be the mission of all vangels this year, and possibly years to come. That is not to say that there will not be smaller operations wherever Lucipires settle in, but mainly you all must concentrate on this abomination. Mass murders. Beheadings. Rapes. All in the name of some distorted religious belief. The Lord weeps at the atrocities.” For a moment, Michael’s head was bowed. Then he straightened and said, “But it will all start with you, Cnut.”

“Thy will be done,” Cnut agreed, but he had no idea where to start.

As if reading his mind, because of course he could read minds, Michael explained, “ISIS is no more than a glorified cult, much like those started by David Koresh and Jim Jones in the past. Yea, the numbers are much larger, but the principles are much the same. Blind worship of a false ideology. Start small with one of the cults, Cnut. Then your brothers, and other military operations, will aid you from there.”

“One of the cults?” he murmured.

“There is a modern expression that applies here, Cnut. Nibbling away like ducks. That is what thou must do. Start nibbling.”

Under his breath, Cnut said, “Quack, quack.”

“Death by a thousand paper cuts,” Ivak said, agreeing with Michael.