The Trial
Things were not going well. Why did they never go well at Council Meetings? Ever?
Raphael could hardly stand the bickering. Ten members - three mediators (namely God, Christ, and the Metatron), and seven others to choose Azazel's fate.
Three were with him - Mother, Adam, and Eve. Naturally his parents would side with him.
Against him stood Michael and both Marys.
Raphael could not speak. Azazel was his son, for all intents and purposes, and his underling. He should not say. He was not barred from speaking, but he did not think it right to give such biased opinions.
But, then again, he thought as he looked around the chamber, who here is not biased in one way or another?
Michael wanted to prove himself. Abel's parents would naturally want leniency. Mother always vied for mercy for her children. And the Marys were raised in a time when adultery was unforgivable.
But they were talking about killing him when he had never so much as transgressed before, not even in hell. After all Azazel had endured over the last four thousand years, they were talking of murder for something his husband didn't even want to divorce him for.
The archangel sighed and rubbed at his eyes as the debate went spinning on in a flurry of harsh, spitting tones and accusations and irrelevant murmurings of those cooped up in heaven for far too long. Those who had forgotten what the world was like and, subsequently, had no idea what life was like in hell.
His son, the angel of martyrs, was being made in to a martyr for a second time in a witch hunt that was spurred on by Michael's new-found lust for blood and a need to prove himself to the Father. If only the fool would realize this was condemning him further in heresy and madness.
Make him human. Make him suffer. Lock him in heaven. Take his children. Bar him from his family. Throw him in hell with the demons he's so fond of.
It all made Raphael sick to hear.
He caught the Metatron's eyes and he could see both pity and compassion in them.
Have heart, Raphael. All is well.
He shook his head, pushing back against the normally welcome voice inside his mind. Don't say that to me, he said, sounding tired and defeated. This is the second time I've had to sit idly by while his fate is decided. We would not be here if not for Michael's insistence. More angels are guilty of infidelity than I can count. This is pathetic, Enoch.
And yet there is nothing we can do to stop it.... Is there anything you might say, my love, to stay their hands?
Raphael shook his head, the gesture so minute that no one else would notice it unless they were looking directly at them. And even then, they would likely not guess that he and the Metatron were speaking silently between themselves.
But then, something occurred to him. As his master in heaven, Raphael was bound by the council's decision. But there was something no one else had yet discussed.
"We cannot make a decision today," he said suddenly, interrupting the heated debate. The chatter fell silent and the council's eyes turned to him. No one had expected him to speak, and were stunned in to submission when he did.
"What are you talking about, Raphael?" Michael demanded, his tone intended to be light, but holding none of the respect his superior was entitled to.
"Is it not written," Raphael went on, looking directly at the Metatron for help and, more than that, for permission, "that all of an angel's Masters must be present during a trial before a sentence might be passed?"
There was a collective sharp intake of breath, almost a gasp but not quite.
"Raphael," the Mother said quietly, her tone one of warning. "Do you have any idea what you are proposing?"
But the archangel refused to back down. This might be Azazel's only chance.
"Yes. I am his High Master, and, as such, I have the right to summon his other masters as well. I am invoking that right, unless the council agrees to dismiss all charges."
He could feel Michael's anger, and in the old days it might have mattered. But not now. Michael was beneath him in rank and the Metatron would not strike him again for insolence. He was safe to speak his mind.
"Summon Lucifer and Cain here and have them present their position on the matter. Bring them to heaven - the devil himself and the first murderer - or, by your own laws, Azazel is untouchable."
He felt a sick sort of triumph at using their own rules against them. So much for complete obedience and utter compliance.
Not this time.
Not when his son was at risk before these vultures.
Did I really just think that about the Council of Heaven...? Dear God... I really have changed.
He swore he almost saw the Metatron smile, but he never smiled at such proceedings.
"We are adjourned," the Metatron said in his great booming voice, "until such a time as this particular matter can be decided upon. I will confer with the Father about what Raphael has, in his rights as Azazel's Archangel, demanded. We will reconvene once a decision has been made.
"Council dismissed."
With a heavy sigh of relief, Raphael slid out of his seat and slipped past the other members.
Thank you, Enoch, he sent back with his mind.
All he got was a hearty chuckle in return.