Truer Words

“He’s waking up.”

Eddie Marlowe shoved himself into Raphael’s field of vision.  He looked more haggard and food-deprived than ever, and even as their gazes met, Eddie’s Infernal eye slid sideways, and he blinked hard.

“Tell me who you are,” the guitar player said in a hard voice.  Raphael saw that the other man had a fist cocked back, ready to strike.

“Raphael,” he said.  “This body is borrowed.  The man is Enoch Emery, and he is in the service of Heaven.  And you’re Eddie Marlowe.  You and I met for the first time in Azazel’s well of imprisonment, at the waters of Dudael.”

“Dammit.”  Eddie sat back.

Raphael sat up.  He was in Enoch Emery’s body, all right, but it didn’t respond right.  The body had taken a beating, but that wasn’t the problem.  His connection with the body was wrong.  He wasn’t sure he could put his finger on the issue, exactly.

“I come Bearing the Word,” he said.  Chuy sat in the corner of the cage, and Twitch lay on the floor, with a scrap of leather draped over her.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Heaven,” Raphael said.  “I come as a Messenger.  I have a message for you, Eddie.”

“If Heaven is using you as a Messenger,” Eddie snorted, “things must really have hit the fan.”

“They must have,” Raphael agreed, cracking an awkward smile, “or you wouldn’t be getting a message.”

Eddie laughed out loud at that.  “Touché,” he said.  “We’re all broken men, but I guess when times are hard you go with what you got.”

“Truer words,” Twitch whimpered from the floor, “et cetera.”

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