Some of the angels “asked” for help. Give me permission to help my person, because you have to give your angel permission to help you. Free will protects us from many things, but it can also keep out energies that would help us. If you go to church, or temple, or mosque, or a coven, and are a true believer, then the angels have a conduit to you; they can help and protect you daily, but with so many people not having a regular spiritual practice the angels are trapped to watch the horrible choices people make without being able to help or stop it.
I was trained to give permission and free the angels to help their charges. I gave it without thinking, and the spurt of joy from the angelic as they were free to help was like flashes of relief throughout the room.
“The angels like you,” Emma said.
“Sometimes a little too much,” I said, and the moment I thought something that negative, the energy conduit to the angels began to close. Flesh can impact spirit, and the angels didn’t need my negativity on top of what they were getting from the people they were attached to; the angels had enough mortal interference without me being gloomy at them.
“I could almost hear the angels singing and then something shut the energy down,” Emma said.
I looked at her and now that I’d seen it once, I had trouble not seeing the shining outline of angels around her. If she had guides that weren’t angelic like Ravensong did, I hadn’t noticed them, but then we weren’t in sacred or warded space; maybe that mattered?
“Do you hear the angels singing?” I asked.
She smiled a little more, because the smile was almost always there. “Sometimes, like the edge of music in a room you can’t find, or birdsong seems to have more to it.”
I nodded. “Some Angel Speakers talk to the birds a lot, or through them. It’s not one of my gifts so I don’t understand all of it. How did you not get recruited to the College of Angels as a child?”
She shook her head hard enough for her curls to bounce around her shoulders. The smile went away. Her eyes stopped looking kind. “Recruited, you make it sound like high school kids being scouted for sports teams, or college for professional sports, but it’s little kids between five and seven years old. They can’t give consent to go anywhere for anything.”
“Our parents give the consent just like for boarding school for other children,” I said.
She did that curl-bouncing head shake again. “You can get your kid out of a boarding school. Once a child is inside the College of Angels the families can’t get them out, you knew that, right?”
I blinked at her because I hadn’t thought about it that way.
“You didn’t know either,” Jamie said.
I looked at him and shook my head.
“There have been three cases of divorced parents losing a child to the College, because the main custodial parent gave permission. One father fought for ten years before he could even have a visit with his son.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“The boy was a teenager by then and happy where he was, or brainwashed into staying,” she said, and her face was all unhappy suspicion. It didn’t look right on her face, as if she wasn’t meant for doubts and cynicism.
“I didn’t know about any of this,” I said.
“Well, my parents knew and a lot of others in the pagan community know, so when the College came to get me my parents refused.” She said it with such pride and respect in her parents. It was rare for a person in their twenties to still sound that certain about them.
“The angels found you anyway,” I said.
She smiled then and it was like clouds parting and letting the sunshine spill around me. I had to smile back; it was a type of magic, or glamor, almost like some of the fey and other supernatural beings could do.
“If the angels want to find someone they can; time and place mean nothing to them, because they are not trapped in time as we are, and that means they can be many places all at the same time. How can anyone ever be hidden from beings that can do all that?”
“They can’t.” And then I realized what I’d said, and spoke without thinking. “Then how did she not find me sooner?”
“You said she was in prison, a place between,” Jamie said.
Emma said, “Who is she?”
I looked across the table at Jamie and he just shook his head. He hadn’t told her.
“I’ve never told anyone, unless I raved about it when I was out of my head,” he said.
I reached across the table and squeezed his arm. “Thanks.”
He gave a gentle smile that left his eyes sad. “I would never betray your trust, not on purpose, Z.”
“Same,” I said.
“If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to,” Emma said; her eyes were still soft, but more serious, and the smile was barely there, as if her lips just naturally fell that way, no matter what she was actually feeling.
Jamie patted my hand where it still lay on his arm. “She’s good people, Z.”
I took my hand back, nodding. “I can feel that, Levanael.”
“Have you taken your angel name back?” Emma asked.
“Z told me that if I could channel one of the higher angels, then that meant I was pure and not weak like the College told me when they cast me out. If they’re wrong about that, then they can’t take my name away either.”
She leaned her shoulder in against his and did that fall-into hug that couples do when sitting on a bench together. “I’m so happy you finally see that.”
I had to fight not to beam at seeing Jamie so happy in such a normal way. It was miraculous and I said another prayer of thanks for it. That little flash of warmth came in reply, which made me grin like an idiot and enjoy all the happiness of the moment. One thing we’d been taught at the College of Angels was if God gave you good things, to enjoy it, be grateful for it, and give your happiness like an offering to God and the angels. I didn’t always remember that lesson, but it was good to be reminded of it.
“So, tell me, Levanael”—she seemed to savor being able to say the name—“what or who did you channel to make you feel so good? Your energy is even better than normal.”
Jamie looked at me. “This is more your story than mine, Zaniel. What are you okay with me sharing?”
I was debating what to say, or how to start, when the waitress came with our drinks. She was wearing a scoop-necked T-shirt with the sign logo on it. I smiled at seeing it, then realized she might think I was staring at her chest. Heaven help me, it was like I didn’t know how to interact with women anymore.
I was dubious when I saw the foam on top of the “tea.” It looked more like fancy coffee, but it smelled like Earl Grey. In fact, it smelled rich and thick with the herby, citrus scent of real bergamot.
I raised the glass slowly, enjoying the aroma, then blew on it and finally took the first small sip. It was as good as the scent promised. A weaker tea would have been overwhelmed with what they’d done to make it a latte, but the bergamot was strong enough that it complemented it instead of being lost.
“Levanael drank his first latte here the same way,” Emma said.
It was like her voice had intruded on the moment and I had to fight not to spill the full cup. I looked at her, putting the cup of hot liquid safely down on the table first. “What do you mean?”