I was on my way to the Pearly Gates HQ when Gabriel appeared next to me, causing me to lose some serious altitude. I think he relishes the fact that he can find us wherever we are, provided we're not actively blocking him. We embraced in mid-air. I told him what had happened with Esperanza's wings. He shook his head.

"Honey, I have told you to slow down and just breathe so many times these past ten thousand years, but do you evah listen? Nuh-uh. There's music in silence, yes there is. Now, this is for you."

I take the cell phone from him, and I'm about to give him an earful about how they're sucking the souls out of deep, meaningful conversations when he gives me his trademark look – the one that says 'If you argue with me, you'll lose. Save us both the time and effort.'

"You won't have to fly back and forth to report what you find, or where you are. Just say the name of the angel you want to speak to, and they'll answer – if they want to. Now, I've got to get back to the Gates. They need me."

"What about Chamuel?" I said, alarmed.

"He's off to find Jo-Jo. If anyone can find him, he can."

"Wait, before you go, by any chance have you heard anything about a pair of wings, or angelic sightings on Earth?"

Gabriel closed his eyes, listening into every conversation or broadcast taking place on the planet. "Ukraine. Sightings everywhere. A granny angel, say the local reports. Frightening soldiers, setting prisoners free, visiting children in their dreams..."

"In their dreams?" This was not a power that Esperanza's wings should have. The only other angels who had that gift were Michael and Luce. "Thanks, Gabe. Fly swift and sure!"

"There's something you're not tellin' me, and that's all right. Communication's my thang, you know. I'll pass no judgement. Tell me when you're ready, you hear?"

If you ever want to see a case against my Father giving humans free will, just visit a battlefield. Preferably after the fighting is done. They were given the gift of language to communicate with each other. Language is one of Jophiel's gifts. Humans are the only species that are greedy. They want more than they need. So, rather than work for it, or barter, trade or earn it – they kill for it. Their speech is often neglected, or misused for lies and deceit to get what they want.

The need for men to be 100% right about their choices (of religion, politics, philosophies) is all-consuming, burning reason to ashes. Weapons don't care who they kill. Centuries ago, men could only kill each other one at a time. Now – millions can be killed with a single weapon. How is it, my youngest cousins, that you have mastered death before you have barely even begun to master life?

Ukraine was a shadow of its former self. Entire towns wiped out, its buildings looking like skeletons – metal girders and concrete like half-eaten corpses and small village cottages whose lonely wooden frames with their roofs ripped off resembling a set of rotting teeth in a lower jaw. It was here the wings had come to. But why? They had been in New York City when I'd lost them!

The babushka was soaring over Kharkiv, dropping loaves of bread from a basket that seemed never to run out. She was both laughing and crying. She'd drop loaves in a seeming random pattern, yet everywhere one landed, a person ran out and grabbed it, stopping only to wave at the old woman. Some had cell phones, and were trying to snap pictures, but it would do them no good. Angels can't be photographed.

Suddenly the wings shook her loose, and she landed gently on a sofa. The wings ascended at great speed and took off eastward. Which must have meant that Esperanza was headed east as well. The girl who stepped on my foot had seemed angry and in need of answers. I wonder what happened, and what she was up to.

Think, Raguel. The wings are attuned to her. Wait – she rejected Heaven. How is it even possible that the wings attuned to her before she'd made up her mind? I replayed my memories of the scene. Full stop! It was like looking at an Old Masters' painting that had just been cleaned for the first time – details which had been covered up by grime came into sharp focus.

The archways moved so she had  to walk through them. She had those wings from the moment she'd arrived, we'd all seen her wearing them – and we'd acted as if this was nothing out-of-the-ordinary. There is only one force in Creation that can influence angels, and he's AWOL. Maybe...

I froze when I heard a familiar voice behind me say, "Didn't it ever occur to you, just once, that Papa's better at stealth than all of us? You must be livid, thinking you're no longer sitting in the front row and unable to watch everything that's happening. You deserve better."

I took my brother completely by surprise when my fist connected with his jaw. Then he surprised me. He began crying. Sobbing, really. "I deserve a brother who's capable of standing with the rest of us in the shadow of our Heavenly Father's abandonment, because right now we're all that stands between his depression and Chaos."

He moved faster than light, incandescent with white-gold flames surrounding him, the Bringer of Light. "You have no right to criticize me! Papa didn't betray you! He didn't make humanity see you as the incarnation of Evil, a demon of Darkness!"

He was shaking with rage, but in spite of him looking terrifying – the way only an archangel can - I hugged him tightly. His fiery maelstrom reduced itself to a gentle glow. "I've forgotten how level-headed you can be, Rags. Plus, you give great hugs. Listen, Papa's up to something. This human soul, this girl Esperanza – did you know she has an archangel's aura?"

I hadn't noticed. Or I'd been made to not notice. Then again, seeing auras is one of Luce's gifts, not one of mine. I shook my head.

"Look, she's on her way to China, with Lilith."

"WHAT?" I exploded. "Why is she involved?"

"Don't you know? The Vuelda victims told her about their tragedy. She sent the one and only Elvis to intercept her when she arrived."

"I don't understand. Weren't they sent to you in..." but I stopped before I said the word, knowing that it was both a baseless assumption and a fictional place. Heavenly Father, how could I forget?

"You were going to say 'Hell' weren't you? Weren't you? Aah, why bother?" bemoaned my much-maligned brother. "I can't believe you don't know. Lilith is in charge of Eden, and those who reject Heaven, and many whom Heaven rejects are sent there."

In retrospect, it makes a kind of fitting justice that Lilith would return to Eden. She was never cast out. I had no reason not to trust Earth's Daughter, but I asked, "What is it that she wants from Esperanza?"

Luce laughed. "She wants the girl to get her answers. By taking the girl to different trouble spots in the world, those wings will follow her. Hope follows in their wake. Hope is what Earth is most lacking in now, did you know that?"

I nodded. "Do me a favor, Lou – come back to Heaven for a while, and visit more often."

"If I did, Papa said I'd be charred to a crisp in holy flames. I'd rather not risk it. Unless he lied."

"He didn't lie. It's impossible for him to. He simply changed his mind. Everyone knows what he did. That's probably got a lot to do with his depression – his being unable to admit to his mistakes." There, I'd said it. Then one of my wing feathers worked its way loose and exploded in flames.

Well, shit. That didn't work out at all the way I thought it would. What would Michael say? "Pops, spite doesn't look good on you."

"I'll visit," he said. "But if those Cherubim throw a fit..."

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Luce – walk up to them and say 'Boo!' They'll shriek and scatter to the four winds, I promise you."

"Why did Papa make them, do you think?"

"They were supposed to protect Eden, if I recall. But honestly – I think they sprang into existence the first time he laughed." Maybe that's why he hasn't laughed since.

Luce was about to take off when he put his hand to his forehead and turned to me. "Damn Papa's inside jokes!" He lifts off, shouting, "Of course that girl brings hope."

"I don't understand!" I bellowed.

"You know, Rags, you can be so thick sometimes. Her name!" Lucifer vanishes in a streak of golden light, exploding in a very fireworks-like circle when he's almost out of sight. Dramatic, as always. But the people of Kharkiv are cheering at the festive sparkles. Ragged, tired, not as hungry, and almost happy. Hopeful.

Esperanza. It figures Luce would be the one to see your message, Father. 

I contacted Gabriel using the cell phone and told him to expect Luce sometime soon. I asked about angel sightings in China, and there was some small online chatter about flying white wings but nothing in the press (what little could be found deep in inland China).

"Hang on, 'Cher. On a whim, y'all, I tapped into their spy camera network. There's now an 81-year-old melon farmer named Xi Sao, somewhere near Hami – he's making plants grow everywhere. Birds by the hundreds are following him, so he shouldn't be hard to spot."

I flew about a mile up and saw the white dot immediately. When I descended, I noted two things: China was in the midst of a terrible drought; there were rain clouds forming behind him as he flew. It wasn't birds that were following him, but clouds. Villagers were quickly bringing out anything that could hold rainwater – pots, buckets, garbage cans, even shoes. They danced. Hugged each other. Children leapt from muddy hole to muddy hole.

The third thing that I saw was invisible to human eyes: A young girl sat laughing on the shoulder blades of Lucifer himself! What she didn't know was that every laugh brought forth a small, child-sized cloud, heavy with rain, that dropped down and formed a much bigger cloud. Esperanza was making the rain. Lucifer was shining like a streaking comet, with a smile that was surprisingly innocent and carefree.

They followed the old man until he was brought down into a soft pile of dirt. His wings detached, and sped after Esperanza and Lucifer, who'd taken off at top speed for places unknown. They left him alone, and me with a million questions. I visited a nearby farmer who had an automobile to ensure Xi Sao wouldn't be walking home.

I thought about our recent conversation. Luce had come out of hiding, with Heaven's most wanted soul. I pondered all the discussions we archangels had had over the course of centuries. My Heavenly father had only ever been present for the first. He refused to explain, refused to apologize, refused to talk about it, period. I alone knew the reason. I appreciate that he didn't mention that to my brothers. Which, of course, made it all the more difficult a thing for me to bear.

The sun dried my feathers as I walked through the now divinely blessed green fields. I walked my way to the mountains, when I heard a voice I knew well, singing quietly and sweetly. No words, just notes at random. I followed it around a pathway and saw Uriel standing next to a canvas. And next to him was Belial.

The view from the mountain was astonishingly beautiful. And though I was some distance from them, my spear materialized and was at the ready the instant I saw the demon. When Uriel left Heaven, the demons he'd kept at bay were released. Belial was the worst of them. Yet, here was my brother, standing next to him...singing to him! In his hand was a paintbrush that pulsed with divine power.

"In your sorrow, in your rage

You simply wish to turn the page –

Rest in beauty, shed your pride,

And be one with the mountainside.

Once cast away, imperfect child

You will be loved and reconciled."

As he sang, he dipped his paintbrush into the demon, and used the demon's essence to paint his landscape. With every skilled brushstroke, there was less and less of Belial. When the last bits were used to make the final touches, a deep sigh washed over the mountains. Using his last breath, he rasped, "Thank you."

Uriel sat down and wept a bit. I approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He reached his left hand up and placed it on mine.

"That was...one of the most astonishing things I've ever seen you do." My spear had long since disappeared, and it wasn't until I saw his paintbrush transform into his flaming sword that I remembered what so many forget: our demon-vanquisher is also Heaven's advocate of the Fine Arts.

He stood up and faced me, his eyes still brimming with tears as he cried, "Did none of you wonder why I didn't simply kill them – the demons under my surveillance? It's because they're all Otou-chan's children – our brothers and sisters, Raguel!"

"They're demons," I said, in spite of knowing he's right.

"No. They're imperfect - not the things he wanted. He banished  them, threw them away like so much trash. All they ever wanted was his affection! He denied them, and so they became bitter and twisted. They're mirror-images of us, brother. It was Belial who asked me if I could help him become beautiful for Otou-chan to look at. This painting is all that's left of him.'

I told Uriel about Vuelda, and about everything that had happened since Esperanza Santiestevan arrived in Heaven.

"That's who that was? Whoa, that means she's...a rogue angel who doesn't realize she's already an angel? Even though she rejected  heaven? Something's not right."

It didn't take much more to convince him to return. There were no more sightings of the wings, according to Gabriel. I knew where Esperanza was hanging out, and with whom.