Chapter 7 – Ithuriel
T his is an ill-conceived idea. Not only are we bringing a vulnerable mortal among Hell’s denizens, but we’re also bringing in their age-old enemy, an angel who hasn’t succumbed to mortal temptations, an angel loyal to Father above all else. It’s lunacy.
I dismissed my wings as soon as we landed, hoping that the absence of their brilliance would delay the inevitable, but it was in vain. As the heavy doors creak closed behind us, the chatter within the inn comes to a halt. Mouths open, demons and fallen angels gape at us from every corner of the tavern. The barkeep freezes while pouring ale, and the foam starts spilling over the rim of the pitcher, sliding over his gnarly fingers and jolting him out of his stupor.
“Sariel!” A light, tinkling voice breaks through the oppressive silence, and a mint-skinned sex demon skips over to us, placing a claw-tipped hand on the Fallen’s chest. “You haven’t visited me for months.” She pouts up at Sariel, her full bottom lip glistening in the light from the candles and hearth. My stomach twists and I look away to take in the rest of the demon-infested room.
“I’m sorry, Mireth, darling,” the fallen angel purrs and I look heavenward. The only thing I see is the smoke-darkened, cobweb-decorated ceiling. “Unfortunately, I’m not here to play today. I have company.”
“Aww,” the demoness whines. “You know I don’t mind company. Even if one couldn’t find the clit with a map.”
I flush at her crass words as Sariel chuckles. “Now, now, Mireth. I have a feeling this angel would surprise us with his intuitive prowess.”
My ears are burning and a cavernous growl rumbles from deep within my chest. This damned Fallen is pushing all the buttons I didn’t know I had. “Enough!” I hiss. The Nephilim and demoness both flinch, making me feel guilty alongside the already-present embarrassment. Not for the demon’s feelings, of course. I was not yet in existence when the wholescale war between Heaven and Hell raged, but we have been dispatched to the Underworld to quell rebellions before. I do not consider anyone who chose to live here a creature worthy of my consideration.
Sariel whistles and gently pats the green-skinned demon’s arm. “Well,” he says quietly, the word trailing off. He clears his throat and addresses the barkeep. “Rukmar, a room for three and dinner for my companion would be nice.”
The grubby demon hocks and spits on the ground. Lovely. “Where do you think you are, boy? I have one room free and it’ll fit three if you stand side by side.”
The little Nephilim’s eyes bug out at the innkeeper’s words, but Sariel just smiles, unconcerned. “That’ll do, Ruk. Itha and I don’t need to sleep anyway.”
I wish I could tell him he can stuff that old diminutive where the sun doesn’t shine… but that would not be very virtuous of me, would it?
“We’ll talk about you bringing an angel to my joint, too, boy.”
My hackles rise further at the demon’s words. “Believe me, I have no desire to spend the night in this… establishment.” My proclamation is met with mutters by the seated demons whose dinner we interrupted with our arrival.
“Listen here, you snooty–”
“Please excuse my friend,” Sariel speaks over the barkeep’s threats. “He was raised by angels.”
Some of the clientele laughs at this and I feel a warm weight settle on the crook of my elbow. Turning my head, I see Jessica has placed her hand there in comfort. The notion is all but comforting to me at the moment, however, as I feel itchy and overwhelmed under the demons’ malevolent gazes. I snatch my arm away and catch a look of hurt pass through her expression before she schools it. I can’t bring myself to think too much about it, though. I need to get out of here. The walls are closing in. Sound begins to echo through my skull as Sariel and the vile innkeeper continue trading words and my sight goes hazy. I hear my name called as if from a great distance.
“What?”
“I said, this way.” Sariel stands in front of me, his wings out and lightly spread, hiding the room behind him. “To our room? This way, Itha.” He points a thumb over his shoulder.
Jessica is standing next to him and she gives me an encouraging smile. I have a lot to regret when it comes to my behavior toward her tonight.
Nodding, I gesture for them to take the lead, then follow, keeping my eyes on their feet and not the room around us and its inhabitants. Up the rickety stairs we go, the wood groaning under our weight. Sariel stops in front of a door that does nothing to convince me of its security and dismisses his black wings. He nudges the door open and, after glancing inside, steps to the side and allows the Nephilim to go first.
The owner wasn’t lying when he said the room wouldn’t situate three. There’s a bed for two, the bedding surprisingly clean, and a small table. Jessica sets her backpack atop the latter and turns to face us.
“The bathroom?” she asks Sariel sheepishly.
“Down the hall, last door.”
Once the Nephilim is gone, silence descends. Feeling awkward after the Fallen's considerate behavior, I lower my gaze to the floor, surprised to find it cleaner than the barkeep's grimy appearance led me to expect.
Sariel scoffs. “You should rest. Think you need it.”
I straighten and throw him a glare. “I do not.”
“Itha, you lost your shit. I’ve never really seen you lose your shit before…”
“Before you fell, leaving Heaven with no warning?” I finish his thought, making him growl in frustration. I return to the topic. “There’s only one bed and the mortal needs it more.”
Sariel smirks. “It’s big enough for both of ya.”
“I don’t–” I sputter, just as the mortal in question strolls back inside the cramped room.
“What are you guys talking about?” she asks, making the Fallen grin evilly.
“I was just telling the angel he should rest; he’s not fully recovered after that fight with how much flying we’ve had to do.”
Jessica looks at me with wide, sympathetic eyes. “Of course, Ithuriel! Take off that armor and lie down.”
Sariel laughs at what must be a thoroughly affronted look on my face. The human just suggested I should disrobe and join her in bed! Time in Hell must have truly corrupted her if she does not know how unseemly that would be.
Jessica looks between us, blushing. “What did I say?”
The Fallen throws an arm around her shoulders. “We’re gonna have a hard time getting Itha to lie down with you with all our swords in between you two, poppet.” Our eyes connect and he bites his bottom lip, his white teeth digging into the plump flesh. My gaze sticks to the action, rapt, when he starts speaking again. “Imagining him naked is the closest we’re going to get to him taking his armor off, I’m afraid.”
What did he just say?
“Oh, stop it, Sariel, you’re making him uncomfortable again!”
“I’m not some object to be fetishized, Fallen!” I grit through clenched teeth as he cackles.
Jessica shakes her head. “Ignore him. He’s doing it on purpose to get a rise out of you. Kindergarten tactics.”
Clearly, I should have paid more attention to humans in preschool.
∞∞∞
Jessica’s light snores vibrate the sensitive membranes of my human form’s ears. I roll around and sigh.
“You’re gonna wake our chick,” Sariel murmurs from the darkened corner where the table lies.
I ignore his implication. “Why do you insist on using the humans’ vernacular?”
The Fallen’s shadow shrugs. “I like spending time there. Why?” He prolongs the question, the sound dancing in the air between us. “Does it bother you? You should hear how the current generation speaks.” A light rustle as he shakes his head. “It’s getting outta hand, TBH.”
“Tee bee… what?”
“Never mind.”
The conversation distracts me from my problem for a couple of minutes, but the issue remains. I’m lying next to another, living, breathing being. Not that I ever lay next to a deceased one.
Where is my mind going with this?
“Ithuriel…”
“What?” I whisper back.
“You have your armor on. She’s sleeping in her leathers just to make it easier on you, for Hell’s sake. Rest.”
But I can smell her body. It’s not unpleasant, no; she obviously washed herself in the bathroom along with the… underthings she hung to dry over the headboard. She smells of soft, warm musk and the citrus soap she uses, a scent I familiarized myself with these last days.
I can nearly feel her warmth against the side of my body…
“We took naps in the Crystal Forest together as younglings, Itha.”
“That was different,” I mutter, holding my breath.
“Why?” he drawls again. “Because you didn’t have impure thoughts then?”
I shoot up into a seated position and hiss at the Fallen, “I am not having impure thoughts!”
“Because I sure was,” he continues, a grin in his voice.
Pins and needles travel from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. What is he saying? Was he having impure thoughts… about me? No… It was likely the humans he spied on. And that demoness from downstairs. What type of relationship does he have with her? For some reason my ears are feeling very hot.
I turn my pillow and lie back down, determined to ignore the scoundrel. Odd sensations stir in my lower stomach.
As time passes, I manage to quiet my mind, the sound of Sariel tending to his axe with an oiled cloth lulling me into a meditative state. Until the Nephilim loses a breathy moan. My eyes open at the sound and Sariel chuckles.
“I wonder if she’s dreaming about us again,” he says. I remain quiet, almost straining to hear if Jessica will make another sound like that again. “The three of us,” he clarifies. “Our hands on her willing body.” Warmth spreads from my chest and now-pounding heart, over my neck. “You taking her from the front as I slide in from the back.”
I launch my pillow at him and a whump sounds before multicolored feathers burst out of it and float around us. He intercepted it with his axe.
Jessica gasps and jumps up. “What? Are we under attack?”
“Yes,” Sariel laughs. “By down stuffing. You’re paying for the pillow, angel.”
I like the way he said ‘angel’ as little as I like anything else that came out of that sinful mouth tonight.