Source manuscripts: pestaner.com/sm01 pestaner.com/smp1 – SM01 P1.docx
Content advisory: Adult language, content, and situations, controversial religious and cultural references, speculative histories, substance use, acts of violence, and self-harm. Find more information about the novel at SHATTERED MIRRORS NOTES.
Introduction to Story [H1.5]
Universe #169 is an achievement of a unified group of gods called the Council of Ancients. Their motto is “We are One.” Jehovah, a leader of the Council of Ancients, has prepared a presentation announcing that he needs to have a redo of this creation because “evil” has crept into the design. He has secretly directed his archangels to collect the power necessary to destroy and reassemble all of the Universe.
Ikart, an investigator in Jehovah’s service, is unaware of these plans and expects to make a routine report to the Council about the State of the Universe upon his return from vacation. Unbeknownst to the investigator, a ten-day timer has started. This marks day 1 of a countdown to Armageddon.
A Guardian Angel, Panea, and a young budding shaman, Tom, who is in the future, have learned of this plan and have attempted to notify Jehovah’s Chief Inspector, Guardian Angel Ikart.
Chapter 1 Starting The Missing Angel Investigation
Camille speaks
Narrator: Ikart
Location: Maui at a Nephilim resort
When: Day 1 TTD (Time To Destruction)
A nagging unease settled over me as I recognized a message coming in from Camille. Only celestials can use the angel network, and I tried to ignore it. My wings ached, my halo’s glow dimmed more than ever before, and my mind was exhausted. Despite my request for a vacation, turning off celestial communications was not an option. The concept of a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign seems completely lost on the High Almighty.
Seeking respite, I left the celestials behind for a modest resort in Maui, Earth, U169. The pool’s cool water and the sweet northeasterly trade winds beckoned, promising brief solace. Determined to recharge, I shook off the stale air in my suite and headed for a rejuvenating full-body massage at the spa before stepping into the pool.
As night fell, the island’s magic unfolded. Lightning bugs flitted about, their orange trails glowing like divine sparks. The bioluminescence surrounding Puu Kukui and Haleakala cast an otherworldly glow over the landscape, enhancing the natural beauty. The tranquil waters and spectacular flora were the work of the Great Physician, a testament to divine craftsmanship.
My friends were not nature enthusiasts and preferred earthly indulgences over meditation or a walk by the sea. We agreed that Mother Nature could be awesome, but even she was not enough to cure what ailed me. I needed to decide which, if any, indulgences to pursue, assuming that moderation was key. So, I first listened to their counsel.
Elvis was all about finding the perfect ‘spliff,’ though everyone agreed that my mugwort mix was the best, so that could be crossed off the list. Jeffrey, ever the thrill-seeker, suggested I “blow up shit,” which was definitely not happening. Luci swore by the therapeutic power of a good drink, claiming nothing says ‘self-care’ like a tropical buzz. Though drinking and mugwort don’t affect an angel like me, the rituals themselves might contribute to their curative powers. It felt like I needed to consider one more possibility.
I contemplated a more natural form of healing, though my idea carried more risk for me than my friends’ enthusiastic but worthless suggestions. Lord Jehovah did not tolerate angels who were creative in the ways they convalesced.
I sought His method of sexual intimacy, hoping for permission and understanding, not condemnation. Metaphorically speaking, sexual healing makes the crooked path straight. Forgive me for thinking this: Jehovah, Allah, or Yahweh—same god, different names; your track record surrounding this method of healing has perhaps distanced you from humans and angels. The only way I can avoid condemnation is by avoiding drawing attention to myself.
My friends suggested an ideal location for a smoke and a drink—an enchanting waterfall nearby and plenty of eye candy around. After a long, complex investigation, I came here to unwind and forget my woes. That does not mean I was relaxing. On the contrary, I was waiting for the ‘fire,’ the burning lust that accompanies sexual healing. Just as I was ready to party my wings off, my intuition told me something was wrong.
As an exceptional celestial being, I sense emotional ebbs and flows better than others. Call it a perk of the job: incredible emotional sensitivity along with wings. I appreciate the blessings I’ve been given, including my work helping God’s people. Coming here to focus on myself isn’t selfish. Doesn’t an angel deserve time off?
The Angel Union doesn’t oversee managerial angels like me—just my luck. I have no union benefits, and my boss still expects me to jump when needed. When I received the message, I knew it would be my undoing, pulling me away from this place.
Determined to focus on my vacation and restoration, I sought a deserving companion for the evening to share ourselves in the name of divine healing. My evening companion deserved the best I could give. Once mended, I would be valuable for service again. My friends provided a detailed list of instructions on how to proceed. I had been advised to stay clear of the carbonite fools who jockeyed for a position around the entertainment stage.
My view from the pool was ideal for identifying intoxicated soft flesh on the stage, which I imagined strutting in little or no clothes. Luci says they are manna, God’s provision, with the Lord of Heaven’s intent and consent for breeding. The bamboo canopy does not hide these bodies from the spirits who lurk in these pool waters. It’s like the spirit world’s version of reality TV, minus the confessional booth.
Unfortunately, my location was not as desolate as I would like. Some lurid tourists were playing grab ass in the pool. It made me excited. A cute nephilim enjoyed the pool’s shallow end, surrounded by imps playfully interacting with her. Several pixies added to the lively scene with their antics and tongues.
The pixies and imps drank Duvel, a Belgian beer, and sang La Bière, their favorite song. I was too tired to say anything, so I just watched them play. I acted like I tolerated them, but they fascinated me. To my amazement, they kept laughing uncontrollably, not even knowing what they originally found amusing. Their levity was so great that they fluttered like butterflies in heat. They had an uncanny rhythm with a driving beat that made them appear to bounce and shake violently. I hadn’t seen this much excitement since hundreds of pixie drag queens crashed the Imps’ Bridge and Karaoke Celestial Invitational.
Curiosity got the better of me, but a pixie quickly intervened, gently pushing me away. Despite my desire to be alone, I appreciated the pixies, who, contrary to popular belief, are incredibly fun drinking buddies. Don’t let their small frame and gentle comport fool you.
Pixies are more closely related to the imp than a fairy. Imps seem tiny with their fragile wings, but their main passageway to pleasure is in their wings, just like angels. Stroke an angel’s wing, and you’ll have them blushing brighter than their halo. Pixies and imps appear similar, but imps are bigger and have horns. Imps are not good to drink with because they get overly amorous. And stay away from those wings.
It took a bit of effort, but the ambiance finally settled into my mind. My location was ideal—near an enchanting waterfall and offering plenty of eye candy. I came here to unwind and celebrate the end of a long case. But now, duty called. I reclined, trying not to think, as I put up my feet and sipped my complimentary cocktail.
Across the pool, two nymphs caught my eye, their movements perfectly in sync with the hypnotic rhythm of the music. My usual calm demeanor shifted into a nascent, hot, carnal desire. I had to rub my eyes as these playful, topless, redheaded vixens glided over, holding refreshed chi-chi cocktails and vying to be the first to dance with me.
They circled me. One traced the lower part of my wing with her finger while sucking my earlobe as if she were savoring marrow from a roasted beef shank. The other slipped her hand between my legs, slowly gliding from my navel to my lower spine.
Then I felt the zapping bu-z-z-z, a damn inconvenient communication request. To be perfectly transparent, my first thought was to ignore it again. I wanted to prioritize the enticing mix of cocoa butter, sweat, and hormones. I sighed as these temptations danced in my nostrils; no ‘better angels’ were here to persuade me to reject this pleasure. How could I interfere with this rare moment?
I know that Jehovah gave me this opportunity to rest. Don’t believe all the rubbish you hear about spirits. You may recall that even Jehovah rested. I believed that it was my turn. Some say it is an obligation to rest.
While I cognitively understood that my celestial body wanted repose, I felt strongly that everything would not be aligned if I didn’t scratch the itch for something more. Was this a test? Was this Jehovah’s temptation of his trusted angel to see if he would follow divine precepts or if he would cave into temptation and return to work that provided him with great fulfillment? All I knew was that for some unexplainable reason, I still struggled to resist the urge to respond to Camille, which would likely result in me returning to work.
The mesmerizing aqua-velvet blue waters brought a sense of tranquility. However, the notion of an intimate time in these waters toyed with my insecurities; I did not know how to swim. Despite this, I longed for a satisfying period of doing nothing, thinking nothing, and being nothing by or in the water.
Wearing my baby-blue swimming shorts with a yellow duck pattern, I felt a momentary release from obligation. I even heard from a pixie that obligation is like a bad penny—it always shows up just when you’re about to have fun. How did she know?
My mind wandered to my luxurious room with the strange, malodorous odor. I had just arrived at the hotel recommended by my friends hours before. I did not even unpack. Why bother when you’re just going to live out of the suitcase like an eternal college student? My expectations for an evening of relaxation were high. Looking back, it was a dubious decision to bring along a brightly colored inflatable parrot to recline on in the water. But hey, it matched my duck-patterned shorts.
This is why I find vacations tumultuous at best. My thoughts were unexplainably contradictory, if not ambiguous. I relished the excitement of partying with a young, boisterous crowd and simultaneously desired isolation. I am a glorious angel and wear ridiculous outfits that I think are a rage. If you can’t wear duck shorts on vacation, when can you? However, the contradictions dissipated as I sat upon my blow-up refuge among the loud tourists and spirits. And my spirit wept in joy.
Within these moments that my racing thoughts paused, I answered the call.
I froze as I ascertained the nature of the dire notification. My weariness begged my eyes to succumb, yet I energetically rose to the occasion, quickly dismounting my ride. As I grabbed the right temple of my sunglasses, the feel of the grip brought to my consciousness an image of the hefty spliff I had in my pocket. Needless to say, it got soaked in my momentary lapse of judgment.
I had committed to vacating the warm, fuzzy facade occupying my mind and accepted a momentary chill. The gravity of the moment was clear. As quickly as my furlough commenced, my feet touched the pool floor, and it ended. I bid farewell to those girls as they giggled feverishly at my creepy awkwardness.
The report conveyed the loss of an angel. I paused and reluctantly left my place of respite to return to my office in the Celestials. I felt rejuvenated. Despite feeling better, I walked dejectedly to the Haven portal, ruminating upon my truncated holiday.
I vacated my inflatable birdy, allowing a desperate party of imps to take my place. The imps wasted no time seating a cute, bright-eyed teenage human in my ride and flipping me off simultaneously. The imps had their hands filled as they worked two intoxicated angels while sharing the girl. They helped me regain my sense of purpose in a morbid, serendipitous way.
I reflected with reverence, sensing an odd tugging inside. At an event with many nephilim and celestials, it did not appear that anyone else received the report, which was curious. Nephilim are not celestials, but being half-breed, they have an uncanny sense when a message occurs. Camille’s direct communication was rare, especially for such an important message. I seemed to be the only one.
Arriving at the Celestial gate, still in my swimsuit and shades, I expanded my wings and flew to my office just outside. It was not the most professional look, but my attitude was: Who needs a dress code when you’re a Celestial? On second thought, I needed to grab a notebook, wash up, and change into a suit before acting on Camille’s report. This missing angel case was a top priority and unsettling. I needed to start officially in my uniform and be prepared.
That is Ikart humor. I just changed into my detective cloak, not unlike my leisure cloak. Angels are low maintenance; we are beautiful all the time. After grabbing a pre-packed bag with more mugwort and a fresh notebook, I headed toward Archie’s ancillary offices. My wings and halo had charged sufficiently in Maui, but I started to enjoy the views on the ground. It gives me a chance to gather my thoughts…
Heading to see the Archies
Narrator: Ikart
Location: Spirit realm
When: Day 1 TTD (Time To Destruction)
There wasn’t much happening in the Celestial business district except a lot of singing, praying, and good old-fashioned whoopin’ and hollerin’. Most of the fun activities were at the Colosseum gate, which boasted plenty of shops and interesting sights.
Don’t get me wrong. The Celestials had beautiful gardens, making it one of the more fascinating places to noodle around.
Michael’s office was a great getaway for his soldiers in the Celestial business district. They made me nervous. Regardless, I felt excited to be here. I always liked receiving a new case—bad for the victim but thrilling for me. I might not be too angel-like, but bringing an entity of interest to justice is a mental challenge and a hunt that gets my prana pumping. To quote the ol’ hymn, “There is sunshine in my soul today.” With pep in my step, I headed to the Archie’s office to declare my next case.
Several paths lay before me, and I followed the one towards Jannah and Eden to reach Archie’s office. I’d traveled this golden path since I was a young, naive angel. The stones were so smooth, unlike the rough, natural textures of Maui’s streets and beaches, which I loved.
I needed to go to Michael’s Office to open this case. Sure, I could telepath, but where was the fun in that? I was attracted to the receptionist, Alice, and often fantasized about asking her out for coffee or playing ‘Hamster in the Halo.’ Both were difficult to fathom and highly unlikely.
Alice played hard-to-get, so I figured she felt something for me, too. She liked hardcore professionals, so I had to play my part up. I was lucky the boys were out fighting, so those goofballs wouldn’t wingblock me. I’d be happy if she remembered me.
I arrived right on time. Since there was no time here, every time was the right time.
Leaning against the counter, I gave her ‘the eye’ — a very effective technique in the past. “Hello, Alice. Ikart here, Investigative Angel Level Two. Remember me? I need to report a missing angel case.”
Alice’s eyes narrowed. “It’s Archangel Alice to you, Ikart. And yes, I remember you. Unfortunately. Get to the point before I cut your wings off.”
That hurt! “Yes, ma’am.” I nodded, trying to appear humble.
“Do you know that no one cares what you do until you have some results? You are always coming here and taking up time… oh yes, we are Angels. No worries over time. We have an eternity. Please make my eternity bearable!”
“I’m sorry, Archangel Alice. I apologize.” I looked into her wonderful eyes. Beneath this rough demeanor, I knew she secretly had a thing for me.
“You know I can read your thoughts, Investigator Ikart.” For a moment, I got a good vibe. Then she started to hit the table with her nails rhythmically. “Let me explain something to you. Michael doesn’t care if you are sorry. He would be happy seeing you pull guard duty outside a black hole, just on my say-so. Uriel, on the other hand, would—”
“You know a black hole is not black.” I hoped we could change the topic.
“Michael and Gabriel dislike you. Hell, I don’t like you. And if you light up another cigarette here, I will take your whatever, pretend your petite butt is an ashtray, and lovingly send it up your tuchus!”
I quickly put my spliff back in my pocket. “Thank you, Alice. I hope you will ensure you snuff it out first, but I got the idea. And I know you love me. Remember? That’s what Jehovah’s kid is always saying. Love everyone—your friends and your enemies. Love, love, love.”
“Please, get on with it. Do you have business here?”
“Yes, indeed. I need to talk to you about business! I just wanted Michael to know that Camile reported a missing angel to the Investigative Unit, and I immediately opened this case. The angel is a Guardian, making this case rather unusual.”
“He already knows. Open a case. Noted.”
“I need to let Michael know where I am going in case I go missing. Some angels, investigators like me, may disappear when a god does not like us looking into their affairs.”
“Yes, we typically have investigators declare a Dangerous Visit, but we will make an exception in your case.”
“Alice, do you always have to give me a hard time? I have the papers here.”
“I will note that you are on the case. The form will let me know the particulars so I can leave for my appointment to get my wings buffed.”
“The angel that is missing is Panea. I am also trying to find her host, Gwen.”
“Good. Now go!” Alice disappeared.
Suddenly, I felt watched. I raised a hedge of protection around me, an invisible force field that did not allow emo controllers, mind-readers, and thought trollers to invade my mental space. I then began making mental notes about what I needed to do and also to distract myself from someone observing me. I would head to the park to think. I needed to determine a starting point. As usual, I would reconstruct important events in this case by combining the testimonies of various gods, spirits, controllers, and carbonites as needed. I would try to avoid human carbonites because of their atrocious memory. I should also check in with the Angel’s union. Even though Salina is a bit out of her mind, she has been helpful in a few of my cases.
Summary [S1.6] > a1.84 07-11-24 (3,106)
Ikart, an Investigative Angel, reluctantly interrupts his vacation at a Nephilim resort in Maui after receiving a telepathic message about a missing angel named Panea. Despite his yearning for rest and enjoyment, he returns to the Celestial realm to begin his investigation.
The narrative follows Ikart as he navigates the Celestial business district and interacts with the stern Archangel Alice to open the case officially. The primary setting is Michael’s office, where Ikart intends to open a new case regarding a missing angel named Panea. As Ikart interacts with Archangel Alice, the receptionist, there is a mix of professional and personal tension, highlighted by flirtation and conflict. The chapter explores themes of celestial bureaucracy, romantic interest, and the serious task of investigating missing celestial beings.
Contemplating his contradictions and whims, Ikart prepares to delve into the mystery, deciding to start by interviewing Salina from the Angel Union.
