Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
Uriel
I stand on the terrace, surveying the elaborate dinner spread before me. The finest Limoges China gleams in the fading light, delicate patterns of gold and ivory catching the sun’s last rays. Crystal glasses stand at attention, their facets throwing tiny rainbows across the crisp white tablecloth. A bottle of Chateau Margaux 1982 breathes nearby, its deep ruby color promising velvet complexity.
The air is thick with the mingled scents of blooming jasmine from the garden below and the rich aroma of the meal waiting to be served. I’ve chosen a menu that I hope will impress—delicate oysters with mignonette sauce, followed by a perfectly seared Wagyu beef with truffle risotto, and a light lemon tart for dessert. Everything is perfect, as always. I’ve ensured it.
Yet I can’t quell the uncharacteristic nervousness fluttering in my chest. This isn’t a formal function or a celestial gathering. It’s dinner with... Emilia. The thought alone sends an unfamiliar warmth through me, a sensation I’m not entirely comfortable with.
I adjust my cufflinks—onyx and platinum, a gift from Michael centuries ago—and smooth down my already impeccable suit jacket. The fabric is a deep midnight blue, so dark it appears black until the light hits it just so. I’d deliberated far longer than usual on my attire for the evening, a fact that both puzzles and irritates me.
Taking a sip of wine, I hope to calm my nerves. The Margaux slides across my palate, notes of blackcurrant and cedar mingling with a hint of tobacco. It’s ridiculous, really. I’m an archangel, for heaven’s sake. I’ve faced down the hordes of hell without flinching. Surely, I can manage a simple meal with?—
The thought dies as I turn and see her.
Emilia stands in the doorway, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. The dress she wears is a deep, rich red that hugs every curve of her body like a lover’s caress. The neckline dips low, revealing a tantalizing expanse of creamy skin, while a slit up the side offers glimpses of a toned leg as she moves. Her hair, usually so wild and unruly, is gathered in a messy updo that somehow looks more alluring than any elaborate coiffure. Tendrils frame her face, softening her features in the golden light of sunset.
And those shoes... stilettos that make her legs look impossibly long, the color a perfect match to her dress. How does she even walk in them?
I inhale sharply, choking on the wine I’d forgotten was in my mouth. Coughing and spluttering, I set the glass down, cursing my sudden clumsiness. Smooth, Uriel. Very smooth.
“Are you alright?” Emilia asks, concern lacing her voice as she moves towards me. Even her walk is different in those heels—a sway to her hips that I find myself following before I catch myself.
I wave her off, desperately trying to regain my composure. “Fine,” I manage, wincing at the raspiness in my voice. “Just... went down the wrong way.”
She smirks, clearly not buying it. “Right. Well, don’t die on me now. We’ve got an apocalypse to stop, remember?”
I clear my throat, finally getting myself under control. “Indeed. You look... very nice.” Nice? Is that really the best I can do? Millennia of existence, and ‘nice’ is the word I choose?
Emilia rolls her eyes, but I catch the faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Whoever brought my clothes only thought to pack the fanciest dresses I own and which I’ve never worn before,” she says dismissively, running a hand self-consciously down her side. “I feel a bit overdressed for the end of the world.”
“Nonsense,” I say, moving to pull out a chair for her. The scent of her perfume—something light and floral with an undertone of vanilla—washes over me as she passes. “If anything, impending doom is the perfect excuse for a bit of elegance.”
She laughs at that, a warm, genuine sound that does strange things to my chest. As we settle in to eat, I find myself captivated by the way the fading sunlight plays across her features, highlighting the curve of her cheekbone, the fullness of her lower lip.
“This is... wow,” Emilia says, looking around at the elaborate setup. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“It’s no trouble,” I assure her, pouring her a glass of wine. Our fingers brush as I hand it to her, and I feel that same inexplicable warmth again. “I thought after everything that’s happened, we could both use a moment of... normalcy.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Normalcy? Is this what passes for a normal dinner in angelic circles?”
I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. “Perhaps not. But I find I enjoy the rituals of fine dining. There’s a certain... order to it all.”
“Of course there is,” Emilia says, her tone teasing. “Heaven forbid anything in your life be chaotic or unpredictable.”
As we begin with the oysters, I’m surprised by how easily the conversation flows. Emilia is... intriguing. Her mind is quick, her wit sharp. She asks questions about my “day job” that I’ve never considered before.
“So, what exactly does an archangel do all day?” she asks, delicately squeezing lemon over an oyster. “I mean, when you’re not moonlighting as a hospital administrator or averting the apocalypse.”
I consider for a moment. “It varies. Much of my work involves maintaining the balance between realms, ensuring the smooth transition of souls, overseeing lesser angels in their duties.”
“Sounds thrilling,” Emilia says dryly.
I chuckle, surprising myself. When was the last time I laughed so freely? “It has its moments. But I admit, it can be... tedious at times.”
“Is that why you decided to play doctor on Earth? Needed a change of pace?”
The question catches me off guard. I take a sip of wine, gathering my thoughts. “Partially,” I admit. “But it was more than that. I... I wanted to understand humanity better. To see your world up close, not just from the remove of the celestial plane.”
Emilia’s watching me intently, her eyes soft in the deepening twilight. “And? What’s the verdict? Are we everything you hoped we’d be?”
I meet her gaze, struck by the genuine curiosity there. “You’re... more,” I say softly. “More complex, more contradictory, more... everything than I could have imagined.”
A comfortable silence falls as we move on to the main course. I find myself watching Emilia more than I’m eating, fascinated by the play of emotions across her face as she savors each bite.
“This is incredible,” she says, closing her eyes in obvious pleasure as she tastes the truffle risotto. The sight does... things to me that I’d rather not examine too closely.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” I say, taking another sip of wine to cover my sudden discomfort.
Emilia sets down her fork, her expression turning thoughtful. “Does it ever get tiring?” she asks. “Seeing humanity bash itself time and time again across history?”
I pause, considering. It’s a question I’ve asked myself more times than I can count. “Sometimes,” I admit. “There are moments when it all feels... overwhelming. The same mistakes repeated, the same cruelties inflicted.” I take another sip of wine, gathering my thoughts. “But then... then there are moments of such breathtaking beauty and kindness that it makes it all worthwhile.”
“Like what?” Emilia asks, leaning forward slightly. The movement causes that errant tendril of hair to brush against her cheek, and I have to resist the urge to tuck it behind her ear.
“A mother sacrificing everything for her child. A stranger risking their life to save another. The way humans create art and music that can move even an immortal being to tears.” I smile, remembering. “Once, I saw a man give his last piece of bread to a stray dog. It was such a small act, but the love in it...” I trail off, suddenly self-conscious. “I apologize. I’m not usually this... verbose.”
“No, please,” Emilia says, reaching out to touch my hand lightly. The contact sends a jolt through me. “I like hearing you talk like this. It’s... different from the stern administrator I’m used to.”
Our eyes meet, and for a moment, I feel that strange warmth again, stronger than ever. It’s disconcerting, this effect she has on me. I should be focusing on our task, on finding a way to avert the coming disaster. Instead, I find myself wanting to prolong this dinner, to learn every facet of the extraordinary woman sitting across from me.
As the evening progresses, I notice Emilia’s cheeks becoming increasingly flushed, her laughter more frequent and unrestrained. She’s on her third glass of wine, and I realize I should probably cut her off soon. But there’s something enchanting about seeing her so relaxed, so free from the worries that have plagued us both.
“You know,” she says, gesturing with her glass, “I always thought angels would be... I don’t know, stuffy? All harps and halos and ‘fear not’ and whatnot. But you’re actually kind of fun when you loosen up a bit.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Fun? I don’t believe anyone has ever accused me of that before.”
Emilia grins, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Well, there’s a first time for everything. Even for immortal beings, I guess.”
As we finish dessert, the sky has deepened to a velvety blue, stars beginning to twinkle overhead. I’ve lit candles on the table, their soft glow casting flickering shadows across Emilia’s face. She looks... radiant. There’s no other word for it.
“It’s beautiful out here,” she says, tilting her head back to look at the stars. The movement exposes the elegant line of her throat, and I swallow hard.
“Yes,” I agree, though I’m not looking at the sky. “Beautiful.”
Emilia turns back to me, catching my gaze. Something shifts in the air between us, a tension that’s been building all evening suddenly crystallizing. She leans forward slightly, and I mirror the action, drawn in by some invisible force.
For a wild moment, I think I might kiss her. The thought both thrills and terrifies me. But before I can do anything so reckless, Emilia stands suddenly, swaying slightly on her feet.
“Whoa,” she says, giggling. “I think that last glass of wine might have been a mistake.”
I’m at her side in an instant, steadying her with a hand on her elbow. “Perhaps we should call it a night,” I suggest gently.
Emilia nods, then looks up at me with those impossibly wide eyes. “My hero,” she says, her tone teasing but with an undercurrent of... something else. Something that makes my breath catch.
“Let’s get you to bed,” I say, then immediately regret my choice of words as Emilia’s eyebrows shoot up. “I mean, to your room. To sleep.”
She laughs, the sound light and carefree. “Whatever you say, boss.”
I guide her carefully through the house, hyperaware of every point of contact between us. Her arm is looped through mine, her body occasionally brushing against me as we walk. It’s... distracting, to say the least.
When we reach her door, Emilia turns to face me, still standing closer than strictly necessary. “Thank you for dinner,” she says softly. “It was... nice. Really nice.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I reply, my voice equally low.
For a moment, we just stand there, neither of us quite willing to break the spell of the evening. Then Emilia sways again, reminding me of her inebriated state.
“You should get some rest,” I say, reluctantly stepping back. “We have a lot of work to do tomorrow.”
Emilia nods, a small smile playing at her lips. “Goodnight, Uriel,” she says, reaching up to pat my cheek lightly. The casual touch sends sparks through me.
“Goodnight, Emilia,” I manage.
As I watch her disappear into her room, I’m left with a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. The evening was... pleasant. More than pleasant. And therein lies the danger.
I am an archangel. I have a duty, a sacred vow to uphold. These... feelings, whatever they are, have no place in our mission. And yet...
As I make my way to my own quarters, I can’t shake the memory of Emilia’s smile, the warmth of her touch. For the first time in my long existence, I find myself questioning everything I thought I knew.
Sleep, I suspect, will be a long time coming tonight.