I was completely flattened against the wall, my heart pounding so fast there was no question I was very much alive.
“An archangel cannot remain on Earth and among souls for any real amount of time. There are too many responsibilities and too many consequences. The presence of one would draw too much attention from all manner of things,” he said, and the barest white glow started to appear in the center of his chest. “But just like God, I could not walk away from my own creation. My flesh and blood.”
The glow from the center of his chest washed across the rest of his body. Heavenly light pulsed an intense white—the kind of light I knew souls saw before they passed on. It was warm and bearable to look upon, to witness.
Peanut changed.
His body lengthened and his shoulders broadened. The mop of brown hair lightened, turning to the color of the sun. His features hardened, shedding the fullness of youth I was familiar with. The old Whitesnake T-shirt turned to a white sleeveless tunic, and the ragged jeans became linen, pearl-hued pants. And his skin...it continuously shifted through the shades of human skin before settling somewhere in between.
“So,” he said in that voice that didn’t belong to Peanut. “I did what I could to watch over you.”
My father, the archangel Michael, stood before me.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
He laughed—he actually laughed, and it was a strange sound, one familiar and yet unknown. It reminded me of Peanut’s laugh if that laugh had grown up.
“I am not surprised by that response.”
My eyes felt like they were about to pop out of my head. “You... There is...” I shook my head. “Is this real?”
He nodded.
“But where is Peanut?”
Those all-white eyes warmed. I didn’t know how that was possible, but it was, because they did. “I am Peanut.”
“That’s impossible. Peanut was a teenager. He is a teenager, and he died in the ’80s—”
“At a Whitesnake concert, after climbing to the top of a speaker tower and then falling to his death?” he finished for me. “Have you ever heard of anything more ridiculous?”
Well, no.
“Let me tell you, humans have found incredibly bizarre ways to die, and there was one who died that way. Except he was older, and the story of his death amused me. It stuck with me for many years.”
“The...story of his death...amused you?”
“It did, so I borrowed his death.” His head tilted—oh dear God, it tilted in the way it often did when Peanut looked at me. “You should sit down.”
I couldn’t move. “Peanut wasn’t real?”
“Peanut is real,” he corrected. “He is, well, a figment of me. A manifestation or projection of me, when I was a...younger, vastly more annoying angel prone to all manner of things.”
“Like creeping into the bathroom when Zayne showered?” I screeched like a full-blown pterodactyl.
“When you say it that way, you make it sound perverted.”
“Because it is perverted.” Oh my God, why would I even have to explain that to anyone, let alone an archangel?
“I was curious about the man who I knew would own my daughter’s heart. Wasn’t like I looked where I shouldn’t.” He shrugged. “Besides, there is nothing in this world we have not seen a million times before.”
“Somehow that makes it all the worse,” I murmured.
One side of his lips curled. “It is so human of you to imply that there is a sexual motivation behind literally everything. Newsflash, Trinnie,” he said, and every muscle in my body seized. He sounded so much like Peanut. “It’s not.”
“I think I need to sit down.”
“You do.”
I didn’t. “You would watch me sleep! The way you would talk? The things that came out of your mouth.”
“As I said, Peanut is a figment of my youth,” he explained. “I was quite obnoxious as a young angel. Ask Lucifer. He can confirm that.”
“But all the ’80s stuff—”
“The ’80s always amused me. The music. The hair.” He paused. “The leotards. Very interesting decade that proved, well, you haven’t seen it all when you think you have.”
Oh God.
Peanut was my father.
My father was Peanut.
I did sit down then, right there, on the floor. “Is it possible that I had, I don’t know, a stroke, and that explains all of this?”
“That doesn’t even make sense.” A moment passed and my father peeked around the bed. “Would it be easier for you to see me as Peanut? I can change back into him. I just cannot maintain the projection for very long.”
Understanding struck me upside the head. “That’s why you were always disappearing! Even back in the community. I just thought you were off doing...ghost things.”
“The projection requires my attention. Not a lot, but enough that it can be a distraction. Do you want me to change back to him?”
“No. That would...that would be even weirder, and I don’t think I can deal with that.”
He nodded and then sat at the foot of the bed. He was silent.
I wasn’t. “What about the whole purgatory thing? When you said you were sucked into it?”
“That did happen when Zayne Fell. Not to me, but to those who hadn’t moved on.” He rested his hands on his knees. “I thought it would be important for you to know the impact of his Fall, even if it was temporary.”
Okay. Well, impact known. Not sure what that changed, and for some reason, that seemed like a random, nonsensical thing a parent would try to teach a child.
“You avoided Zayne after he Fell, because he would’ve known, wouldn’t he?”
“He wouldn’t have known it was me, but he would’ve sensed something was not quite as it seemed. That would’ve been an unnecessary complication.”
“And Gena? She isn’t a ghost. It was just an excuse for why you couldn’t be around.” It became clear. “Because of Gabriel being around? Was that why you were...gone more than you were here?”
He nodded.
Another thing struck me. “My mother—”
“She is at peace,” he answered quickly. “Happy and comfortable.”
My heart was pounding again, and I wasn’t even sure if it slowed down. “Do you see her?”