Chapter 4 #2
Once I realize just how pointless my meandering is, I direct myself towards a small local library. I’ve never been to this one before, but the student library on campus was one of my favorite places to be. So, I make my way there and barge through the front doors like I’m coming home from war.
Inside, I’m greeted with a quiet, dimly lit, climate-controlled environment.
My favorite. There are only a few other patrons scattered about, most of them hiding from sight.
Fellow introverts, I’m sure. Out of respect for their solitude, I steer clear of them as I begin weaving through the tall wooden bookshelves.
It doesn’t take me long before I find myself in the folklore section, slowing my pace to walk down the aisle with my head tilted sideways, eyes skimming the titles.
I’m not looking for anything in particular.
I mean, if I happen to find a book that can help me reconcile my prior worldviews with the potential reality of angels, God, and the biblical apocalypse, then maybe I’ll check it out.
Maybe. I’m definitely not searching for it.
Eventually, something catches my eye, with its pretty gold lettering and leather binding. I pluck it from the shelf, crack it open, and take a good inhalation of the old paper smell. Yes, I think this will do. As my eyes skim the pages, I wander down the hall, heading towards a good reading spot—
Slam.
I crash into someone as I round the end of the aisle. In my shock, I jolt, accidentally throwing my book in the process. The hefty tome falls to the ground in a flurry of pages loud enough to wake the dead.
“I’m so sorry.” I quickly scoop up the book, my face burning in embarrassment as I bring my eyes up to the poor stranger I’ve just hit, and—“What the fuck?!”
“Shhh, it’s a library.” Malak leans against the bookshelf at his side, grinning in sarcastic amusement. “You’re not supposed to be loud here, you know.”
I stare at him, frozen and incredulous.
He’s dressed entirely too refined for the humble setting.
Everything about him exudes old money—cream suit, white button-down, glistening brown oxfords with a perfectly matching leather belt.
Even his golden curls are tidy and slicked back.
I hate to admit it, but for a biblical creature, he is terribly, terribly handsome.
Meanwhile, with my baggy track shorts and ratty old tank top, I look like a complete slob.
Malak leans in, turning his pretty head sideways to read the title of my book. “Angel Encyclopedia, huh? Sounds like a pretty boring read. If you wanted to know more about me, you could have just called.”
I blink a few times, long and slow, as I continue to stare at the angel taunting me.
Angels aren’t real, you idiot.
“This has gone on long enough,” I mutter to myself, whirling around to walk in the other direction. “I think it’s time I admit myself to a grippy sock vacation.”
His voice calls after me, “But Kae—”
“Go away,” I grumble, tossing my stupid book onto a random cart I pass by. “You’re not real.”
Yet as I rush out of the library, the mirage trails my peripheral vision with casual, long strides. It even seems to catch the door behind me when I exit the building.
Pure coincidence.
Must be the wind.
“Leave me alone,” I hiss, hurrying down the steps. Thankfully, there’s nobody else around to see me talking to myself. That would be embarrassing.
Unfortunately, Malak easily keeps up with my pace. “Are you taking me home with you? How kind of you to invite me over—”
I spin on my heels to stare down the image, merely an arm’s length away. My breaths are ragged. “You’re. Not. Real.”
This is all in my head. If I try hard enough, I can make it disappear.
“I promise you, darling, I am.” Malak steps forward with a hand outstretched. My eyes widen, jerking down just in time to see his fingers connect with my bare arm. They drag up my skin, buzzing with an otherworldly, electric feeling.
A full-body shudder rolls through me.
Malak hums something akin to a laugh, low and full of delight. “Again, I don’t mind some display of supernatural abilities, but I kinda have to be discreet about where I am when doing such. Is this enough?”
My eyes flare even wider when he slides his hand into mine. It’s warm, soft, and not the slightest bit callused. The electric tingling pours through his skin and into mine, pulsing, escalating from somewhat ticklish to nearly painful.
A scraping croak of a breath escapes me, and the feeling subsides.
“Am I real yet? I’m starting to think you just don’t want me to be real.” The angel sighs, causing me to look back up at his glowing, golden eyes.
Those eyes could stop hearts and resurrect the sun.
I really cannot believe such a beautiful creature is standing here without causing a scene. Cars keep driving by, and I’m surprised they’re not all stopping to stare at him.
“I’ll try not to take it personally, darling.
” The angel laces his fingers within mine, holding my hand up to idly inspect it.
“I get it. We’re a lot for humans to accept.
The end of your world doesn’t help, either.
But I can’t really force you to believe me.
You have to make that decision yourself. Free will and all, you know?”
Almost absentmindedly, he places a soft kiss on my knuckles, and my mind reels with panic. In a brief moment of clarity, I snatch my hand away, stumbling back from him. “I-I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Would you rather do something else?” Malak cocks an eyebrow, leaning back on his heels and placing his hands in his pockets. “I can think of a few activities.”
My brow furrows.
“Oh, don’t give me that look. I was going to suggest roller skating. It looks so fun, and I’ve never tried it before.” He winks. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Dawn.”
I blink. And then I start to walk away again. Quickly.
“Wait!” Malak calls, catching up to me with ease. “Where are we going?”
Just before I reach the sidewalk, I pause, spinning around to face him. “I don’t know, angel. Home? A psych ward? A church? You tell me.”
He seems to consider it for a moment. “As interesting as those other options are, your home is probably the most private.”
“Can other people see you?”
“Of course.” His expression drifts into confusion. “Have I not made that abundantly clear by avoiding the commoners? And why else would I endeavor to look so…”
“Human?” I finish for him.
“I was thinking ‘ordinary,’ but that works better.”
“Nothing about you looks ordinary.” A dry laugh escapes me.
He steps in front of me, forcing himself into my line of sight. “Is that an insult or a compliment, Dawn?”
My muscles tense, and I find something else to look at. Something not golden. Like a tree. Trees are not flirty biblical beings.
“It’s okay, you know,” his voice comes out in a hum. “All angels tend to have this effect on humans. I’m sure it isn’t my face in particular that has you so… flustered.” He angles his head downward, closer to my shoulder, and breathes in. “I do enjoy pretending I’m special, though.”
“Fine, you can come to my house.” I agree, possibly out of desperation to change the topic, and I take a large step away from him. How does he keep getting closer and closer? “But just for a short amount of time, and only if we can hide you from my dad. I don’t really want to bring him into this.”
“That’s probably for the best. I don’t think you’ll need too long to prepare before you leave with me, and if you introduce him to a new guy just before you go, he’ll likely be very concerned.”
My mouth becomes dry. “Leave with you? I thought you just wanted to talk.”
“Yes, that’s what I need to talk to you about in more detail. Don’t worry, you don’t have to die to get there. Like I said, I’m not a psychopomp.”
A what? “To get where, Malak?”
“You didn’t really think we were going to stay here in North Carolina, did you?” My silence is plenty enough of an answer, and his face contorts into a small grimace of recognition. “Wonderful. Well, we should probably wait until you can sit down to finish this conversation, in that case.”
I grumble an acceptance and trudge forward, leading him towards my house while my curiosity eats me alive.
I can’t imagine what kind of place he intends to take me to that would make his instinctual consolation, ‘Be not afraid, silly human. You’ll get to keep your mortal life.
’ That’s not much of a fucking comfort! Staying alive is the bare minimum requirement for me to do anything, and that’s setting the bar as low as it can possibly go.
I shoot a glance at him, hopefully unnoticed, and then bring my eyes back onto the sidewalk.
“What else can you do?” I ask suddenly.
“Excuse me?”
“Your angel magic.”
“Miracles, you mean?”
“Angel miracles, whatever, sure. What are they?”
“What aren’t they?” He laughs, as if I’d seriously be joking in a time like this.
“That’s not an answer.”
“…It would take me quite a while to go through all of them.”
A huff of annoyance escapes my lips, and I give him a side-eye. “If you have so many talents, then surely you’re capable of summarizing.”
“You’re a snappy little thing.” Maintaining his arrogant grin of amusement, he shakes his head. “But fine. Besides primarily being a Messenger, my specialty is lightning. Electricity, technically. Though, I also do the same things that most angels can do—”
“How many angels do you think I’ve met before you to know what that is? Jesus Christ, spit it out already!”
“In human terms?” He muses thoughtfully, stoking my frustration even further. “Well, I’d have to say the big ones are flying, strength, invincibility, immortality, telekinesis, universal language translation… I’m sure I’m missing a couple dozen.”
“Can you hear my thoughts?”
“No.” After a pause, he adds, “Nobody can do that. Not fully, at least.”
“Thank God—” I cut myself off by biting my lip, realizing that I should mean that more literally. However, believing angels exist is enough of an earth-shattering concept for the week. Finding faith in a supreme being will need to wait for another time.
I stop at the house next to my own, just to make sure we’re not loitering in front of my dad’s office window. “Okay, I’m going to go through the front door. My dad is home, so you’ll need to sneak around through the gate and meet me at the back door, where I’ll let you in.”
“I feel like a true American teenager.”
“Again, I’m not a teenager,” I mutter back, but pause to take a closer look at his features in the broad daylight.
His cheekbones are high and bold, his jawline rigid and delightfully angled.
There’s nothing to indicate youth, but nothing to indicate age, either.
No baby fat. No wrinkles or sagging skin.
It’s as if he were crafted in a way that could be held in time indefinitely, boldly defying the beauty conventions of every generation. “How old are you?”
“How old do I look?”
“I don’t know. Mid twenties, maybe?”
“I’m flattered. Let’s go with that.”
“Let’s not.”
Malak rolls his eyes, looking toward the sky. “You’re sure you want to know?”
“No, but tell me anyway.”
“I stopped counting after a thousand.”
“Fucking Hell.”
“You know, I have quite a few fun stories about that topic, actually.”
“Your age? Or…?”
“Or a Hell of Fucking?” A sly grin grows across his face. “Take your pick.”
“Nope. I’m good.” I spin back around, ignoring a nefarious chuckle from him. “There’s the back gate over there. Make sure the coast is clear in the kitchen window before coming up to the door. Do not be seen or heard.”
He gives a sarcastic salute. “Yes, ma’am.”