They drove home in silence.
The things they had learned were neither comforting nor encouraging, and the mutual dread of their futures had tempered them both. Inwardly, Gabriel felt desolation and abandonment and fury. She’d been given a suicide mission. There was no real hope for Graeme, and yet she was expected to save him. She desperately wanted to save him, she felt certain that she would step in front of God himself to protect him, but her desire did not wipe clean the shadows of doom that had been cast over their situation.
She hadn’t been joking when she’d said the angels were often kept out of the loop. No one knew where the orders for misinformation or a straight black-out of information came from, but she’d seen the holes her whole life. It had never bothered her before, but now she was on Earth and she was alone, and she still had been denied information that was not only important but vital to her mission.
Things had been kept from her that might have saved them both. That might have changed everything.
There were not words for the anger that boiled within her. She knew then, in that moment, driving through the dark streets, going far too fast for safety, what it felt like to want to revolt. What it must have been like for the angels that went before her, for the ones that had decided they’d had enough. It was almost too much.
She took a small comfort in knowing she was already fallen, certain that if she hadn’t fallen already she would be plummeting to the earth in that moment, with the knowledge she’d learned from Tasaria clutched tightly in her fingers. The mark on her that labeled her as fallen felt more like a badge than a stain.