Chapter 4 #2
Lilith tilts her head, leaning into the touch.
She meets my eyes with a steady, expectant stare.
She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, biting down on it briefly before releasing it again as if in reprimand, a gush of something liquid hot pooling in my stomach at the sight.
Her lip has a sheen of spit now, and a far more powerful urge pushes me to lick that shine from her mouth, to use my teeth on her lip myself to find out if it feels even better to use my own on her than to see her do it to herself.
I’ve watched humans, countless numbers of them, touch each other like that.
I didn’t think too much of it at the time.
Mouths on pulse points, teeth scraping across hot, spit-slick skin, hands grasping, yanking, roaming, squeezing.
None of it was mine to ache for. Those things were as distant to me as the stars in galaxies untouched by humankind.
When my eyes zero in on Lilith’s mouth and stay there, she inhales roughly.
“Az,” she breathes out, sounding unsure for the first time. But even so, she stays where she is, and I begin to seriously question if Lilith is incapable of retreating from any battle once she’s stepped onto the field.
You don’t know this about me. But I like to finish what I start.
A flush of exhilaration works its way through me like a wave of rippling fire, so strong and wild that it compels me to back down first. Unlike Lilith, I have a history of not staying the course, and I might feel shame over that if it weren’t for fact that it’s brought me here, to where I am now, away from the Angels and leaning on the one person who might be able to keep me safe.
I let go of Lilith’s face, sliding my palm and fingers down her neck and collarbone, nails scratching along the hollow of her throat before removing them from her skin entirely.
I turn my head, facing forward again, chin tilted down so I’m looking at the foamy water bubbling up along the edges of the boat.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flicker of emotion on Lilith’s face that might be disappointment, but it’s too fast for me to be certain.
Lilith doesn’t bring it up, though, which is a mercy, but that causes its own claws of disappointment to cut across my stomach lining.
When we’re off-loaded onto British soil, Lilith takes us to nearest train station, insisting it will be the fastest way to get where we’re going, a place called “Danger City.” We settle in a nearby café whilst we wait for our train, and Lilith takes advantage of my new discovery of tea by buying us a few cups.
She picks out a piece of chocolate cake as well, bringing back two forks in case I want to try it.
I was unsure about accepting the tea back at her flat because I’d never eaten or drunk anything other than soul flesh.
I didn’t even know if it was possible for my body to process human sustenance.
It seemed like I shouldn’t be able to. Why would I need to digest things when I don’t need it to survive?
But Lilith seemed certain it’d be fine, and I assumed she’d know enough about Angel physiology to be aware if I couldn’t consume things like tea without causing an issue.
Besides, I was curious enough that I didn’t need much convincing. Taking that first sip felt daunting but also like a life raft being thrown out to sea to help bring me back to shore. It showed me, if nothing else, that some part of me must still be alive enough to enjoy a hot drink.
So when Lilith offers me the second fork, I accept it easily.
She watches me break off a piece of chocolate cake and eat it, her attention at once avid and deceptively casual.
Flavour explodes across my tongue, rich and almost too sweet.
I make a strange sound, like a sigh mixed with a hum.
I don’t think I’ve ever made that noise before, and it causes Lilith to shoot me an amused smirk.
“Good?” she asks once I’ve chewed and swallowed the cake.
I nod immediately, already digging my fork into the cake to steal another piece. Lilith’s amused smirk turns into a delighted fit of laughter. She seems pleased and raises her fork to dig into the cake as well.
“Danger City has wards against Angels,” Lilith tells me when we’re sitting next to each other on the train.
“It was ground zero for the war, and Lucifer put their stamp on it afterwards, so the other Angels won’t be able to track us.
If Michael wants us, he’ll have to put on his special hat, find a more likeable sidekick, and make like Sherlock Holmes. ”
She just says “the war” as if there’s only ever been one that matters. It’s the most selfishly unaware thing she’s said since we met, but maybe everyone who’s ever fought in one thinks their war is the only one that matters.
It takes five hours on the train, and Lilith spends most of it alternately losing to me at I spy and forcing me to listen to music on her phone, insisting that I need to find “my vibe.” We go through about seventy-nine songs before we find Cyndi Lauper’s Girls Just Want to Have Fun, which I make Lilith play at least twenty times, then Lilith calls a revolt and sticks on Closer to Fine by the Indigo Girls instead.
I find myself enjoying that song enough to insist we listen to it around ten times although that might be partly due to the fact Lilith has no compunction against singing along to it.
She has a nice voice, deep and little raspy, drawing my attention like a light sparked in the fathomless void, and I end up listening more to her than the song itself.
When our train pulls into Danger City’s station, Lilith takes us across town, giving me a nice look at the city itself, which paints a very specific picture.
Danger is a gothic nightmare full of cracked cobblestone streets and old, ornate buildings that were probably built in the eighteenth century at the earliest. There are more spires than skyscrapers.
The roads have lanterns. I’ve never seen a place like it; it’s like stepping into a different time if not a different world altogether.
I’m a little surprised Lilith doesn’t try to flag down a horse and carriage instead of a taxi once we’re out on the street.
Lilith stops outside a large townhouse sandwiched between two other houses of a similar style. She hustles me up the steep front steps and bangs on the lion-head knocker.
There’s a strange mist in the air, cloying, almost as thick as smog but not as dark, more a pale grey. I don’t know where the mist is coming from, which gives me an ominous feeling despite the fact Lilith seems entirely unconcerned by it.
We only have to wait a handful of seconds before the front door is jerked open to reveal a pretty young person of ambiguous gender. Or that is what their glamour would have humans believe. Beneath the thin spiderweb of magic wrapped around them, lies the face of a God.
I don’t recognise this God, but I’ve met others like them before in passing. They have the same swirls of gold marking their skin and the faint amber glow of their eyes, more akin to a tiger than a person, that all Gods possess.
At odds with their deity-hood, they are dressed much like a human in a long white shirt and a waistcoat, paired with fishnet tights and heeled boots with laces all the way up to their knees.
They probably have shorts or something on under the shirt, but I can’t see them.
Their chin-length hair is dyed a bright purple, and they have similarly shaded glittery eyeshadow and lipstick.
“Lilith!” They exclaim, delight spreading across their face, unleashed joy making them somehow even prettier. They reach out a hand and grab hold of Lilith, yanking her over for a tight hug.
“Valentine, hey, you look great!” Lilith pulls back from the hug, hands gripping Valentine’s shoulders as she shakes them slightly in what seems like excitement.
My curiosity peaks at the name. I’ve heard of Valentine, the God of romantic love, protector of lovers. Humans still celebrate in their name on February 14th even though their kind have mostly forgotten the origins of the holiday.
Valentine’s black eyes scan Lilith from head to toe in unabashed appreciation.
“I can’t believe it,” they say, huffing.
“You actually got more gorgeous. How the fuck do you do that? Every time we don’t see each other for a while”—they click their fingers—“bang, you glow up just that little bit extra!”
Lilith throws her head back and laughs uproariously. It’s loud and brash, and I find myself enjoying the sound as much as I did her singing.
I blink at them both, waiting to be introduced. Finally, Valentine’s eyes turn in my direction, flickering over me with bold appraisal.
“This the Angel?” Valentine asks Lilith without looking away from me.
“Nah,” Lilith responds dryly, “I just picked this one up at the station. Yeah, obviously, this is the Angel, and she has a name, which is Azrael, which you know because I already told you. Don’t be part of the problem, Valentine, come on.”
Valentine looks momentarily chastened and shoots me an apologetic grimace that I have no clue what to do with, so I just nod in acceptance.
“Good to meet you, Azrael,” Valentine says with emphasis, giving Lilith a flat stare as if to convey, “There, I was civil to the Angel, happy now?” Lilith gives them a sarcastic grin and flashes two thumbs-up.
Lilith moves past Valentine further into the house and reaches back to grasp my wrist, pulling me along behind her. Valentine closes the door once I’m inside and twirls around to face us again with a genuinely welcoming smile.
“Come on then, my lovelies!” Valentine claps their hands together, flashing nails painted a bright yellow, then strides off into the house, clearly expecting us to follow.