Chapter 7 #2
Um. I’m not certain, but I think he’s flirting with me again.
There’s a weird flutter inside me that I don’t care to acknowledge, and I find myself looking away to avoid his eyes.
Fortunately, there’s no shortage of things to look at this.
The luxe interior here is the paragon of ‘fuck you’ money, and I can’t see Dusk moonlighting as an investment banker.
“How, exactly, did you afford all this?” I ask.
“Ah, don’t worry about that. We have our ways of making things easier for us.”
That’s not very comforting. “Nothing I should be worried about, right? As in… illegal?”
He barks a loud laugh, grabbing my attention. I look back at him, appalled. But, I guess it does make sense. Legality is likely a laughing matter to angels, considering how short the lives of nations are when compared to their immortality.
“No, no. Of course not.” He pauses, his eyebrows dropping inquisitively. “Well, actually, let me rephrase that. Nothing malicious, but technically—”
I cut him off with a raised hand. “No, nevermind. Forget I even asked. If there’s some kind of angel mob out there printing money, then I’d prefer to keep my plausible deniability.”
Dusk leans back in his chair, never once taking his eyes off me. The intensity of them could burn a hole through me. “Don’t you trust me yet?”
I twist a loose thread on my shirt, keeping my hands busy. The truth makes me uncomfortable, but there’s no point in hiding it. “Unfortunately, yes. I suppose I do trust you.”
“Great!” That radiant smile of his erupts across his face again. Like a moth to a flame, I can’t keep myself from being drawn in by it. “That’ll make this trip a lot easier. If I say jump, you jump, yeah?”
“Like, from the plane?” My voice rises in alarm, my eyes widening.
Dusk only laughs, so loud and heartily that it’s almost humiliating. At the same time, though, I wish I could have that much unabashed amusement in the stupidest of things.
“No, Dawn. It’s just a figure of speech.” He pauses, tilting his head to the side. “But even if it weren’t, I would hope you’d trust me to catch you.”
“Right. Because of the wings.” How could I forget about those things? Of course he’d catch me. I’d be traumatized in the process, sure, but I’d live.
Our conversation is interrupted by the subtle sound of our flight attendant making her way down the aisle. Even if it’s just for a few brief moments, I’m grateful that I get to pour my concentration into interacting with her, listening earnestly to her summary of our itinerary.
We’re flying into the Tel Aviv airport in Israel, she explains, which is not exactly a country I’d prefer to visit right now.
Israel and Palestine were already on the verge of breaking their shaky fourteen-year truce, but that 144k group has thrown everything into turmoil.
Now, the news is predicting there will be a full-out war in the region by the end of the year.
Unfortunately, it’s not like I have much of a choice. If the only entrance to the Abyss is in Israel, then I’m going to Israel. I just hope Dusk is better at protecting me than he is at delivering holy messages.
Before I know it, I’m alone with him again.
As the lights dim and the jet powers up for takeoff, he looks entirely at ease. He relaxes his chin in his palm, continuing to stare at me for no particular reason, completely lacking in social norms. After so long, it becomes unnerving.
“My face isn’t that entertaining,” I mutter, peeling back the window covering to watch the jet propel itself into the sky. It’s an effort to maintain some semblance of nonchalance.
A low chuckle hums out of him. “Respectfully, darling, you are entirely wrong.”
My breath tries to arrest in my lungs, but I force myself to breathe through it. I’m determined to deprive him of satisfaction in getting a flustered response from me, which he’s clearly trying to do. I know I still look awful. A few nights of good sleep can only do so much for my recovery.
As much as I’d like to tell him he’s full of shit, I go for the polite option, giving him a noncommittal noise of dismissal.
“Try to enjoy the flight, Dawn.” His voice softens, becoming delicate. “It’ll be a long one. Hopefully, you can get some decent sleep.”
“Yeah, now that somebody isn’t sending me nightmares anymore,” I grumble back, eliciting a small chuckle from him. But I wasn’t joking. I’m still very bitter about all those wasted months, and the glare I give him says just as much. “Would you care to explain who you work for?”
The smile fades from his face. A beat passes before he replies. “How do you know I answer to anyone but the Creator?”
“It’s obvious,” I huff, slightly offended. “Stop deflecting.”
“I’m not really supposed to talk about them.”
“I thought you had nothing to hide from me?” Propping my elbow on the arm of my chair, I lean my chin into my palm to stare at him, just like he did to me.
I make sure to school my face, too, mustering the most impassive expression that I can.
“Or was that just you trying to gain my trust? Maybe to make your job a little easier?”
“I have nothing to hide about myself,” he corrects me. “My employer is different. Those are not my secrets to tell.”
I sigh out my nose. What an inconvenient time for him to care about semantics. “Then what can you tell me about yourself and your angelic origins?”
He takes a reluctant, long breath—seeming about as annoyed as I am. Good. I like being even. “How far back to the basics should I go?”
A scientific explanation for the beginning of time and space would be nice to hear from a celestial being, but I imagine that’s a bit out of the scope of this conversation.
“As far as you need. I have plenty of time,” I answer with a wave of my hand, indicating the liminal space we’re currently stuck in.
Dusk crosses his legs, and my eyes inadvertently slip to the silky fabric fitted tightly around his legs. An angel in joggers. It’s divinely unfair.
“Well, we have three Spheres, or Hierarchies, in the Kingdom of Angels,” he starts with a sigh, drawing my attention away from his superb calves.
“But you really only need to worry about the one I’m in, the Third Sphere.
It’s technically the lowest of the Spheres, though that’s only because we actually visit Earth, have individual personalities, and are the closest celestial beings to humans.
In it, we also have a sub-classification of three Orders: principalities at the top, archangels in the middle, and other lower angels at the bottom.
True archangels, like me, were created in Heaven, while lower angels were born. ”
I’m openly suspicious. “Why don’t I need to worry about the other two hierarchies?”
“Because First Sphere angels are so mighty that they never leave Heaven, while the Second Sphere angels are more… forces of nature, let’s say, than they are personified beings.”
“And the Principalities? What of them?”
“Oh, right. They’re basically just special archangels that rule over certain realms. For example, there’s the Four Principalities of Earth, with Michael at the top of their diamond.” He rolls his eyes. “You can consider that fucker to be the most powerful being in the Third Sphere.”
“Isn’t Michael, like, the archangel? The big one mentioned in the Bible?” I snort. “And you’re saying you don’t like him? Are you sure you’re not the devil?”
His responding laugh is dry and unpleased. “No. He’s just a massive dick.”
“I can’t imagine you thinking another angel is a dick when your ego is already big enough to fill every room you walk into.”
“If you think I’m bad, then I hope you never have the displeasure of knowing him.”
I scoff, blowing it off to return to the main subject. “So there’s genuinely nothing special about the principalities, other than the fact they’re in charge?”
“I mean, they’re supposedly more powerful,” Dusk says with another roll of his eyes, air-quoting with his fingers.
“But it’s really only a rank thing. For all intents and purposes, you can say the principalities are archangels.
No need to call them anything else if you’re not specifically referring to their formal titles. ”
I know my face betrays my skepticism as I take a sip from my glass. “Uh… sure. If you say so.”
“I don’t expect you to remember all of this immediately. I know it’s a lot to take in.”
He’s completely missed the meaning behind my expression. Again, my intelligence is insulted. “I was preparing to go to medical school, Dusk. Remembering an obscene amount of information at once is sort of my specialty.”
He studies me for a moment before responding in a gentle voice. “It’s a shame, then, that the world will not see your ambitions fulfilled.”
I grip the side of my armchair to steady myself. He’s all but said it—I’m not going to be able to finish my degree. It was all for nothing.
I’ll never be a doctor.
My heart clenches and bleeds, rapidly washing out any desire I had to continue this conversation. The weight of my disappointment is crushing. Without a word, I recline my chair and curl up into it.
I blink, and somehow, hours have passed.
My head feels like a dead weight as I’m slowly woken by the food service.
Even with the insomnia gone, I can’t seem to get enough sleep.
My body hates the idea of being awake, as if it needs to constantly make up for five months of sleep deprivation.
If it weren’t for the smell of food, I would probably pass right back out.
When the clattering wheels of the service cart signal its departure, I finally decide to drag myself back to the world of the living.
“What did you get?” I mumble, half-yawning, as I stretch out my stiff legs.
“I didn’t know what you wanted, so I ordered a bit of everything.”
I fight against gravity to pull myself into a sitting position, my sleep-ladden eyes squinting to open.
The first thing I notice is the fuzzy blanket draped over me, which I’m certain I hadn’t fallen asleep with.
I blink a few more times, forcing my eyes to work so I can see the little table between us.
It’s overflowing with options, but the charcuterie is calling my name.
After fixing a full plate, I settle back into my seat with my dinner propped on my lap. I’m keenly aware of Dusk watching me, so I clear my throat to attempt some small talk with the angel. “So… do you have to eat?”
He glances down at the plate he’s building, his eyebrows crinkling. “Does my eating bother you?”
“What? No, of course not! I was just… since you’re an angel and all…” I groan. “You know what I mean. If you’re such an immortal, invincible super-soldier, then why bother with food?”
“It’s convenient fuel, and I like the taste of it.” He chuckles, leaning back with his plate. “I’m not a vampire.”
I almost drop my fork, my eyes wide with panic. “Those are real, too?”
“Heavens!” He bursts out into a full laugh. “No! They’re just human folklore.”
Well, thank God, but I feel like a fucking idiot now. Screw small talk. With a huff, I eat a few bites before bothering to address him again. “Where exactly in Israel is this place we’re going to enter the Abyss?”
“Urim,” he replies simply.
What is that, a city? I’ve never heard of such a place in my life. “…Which is where?”
“The Negev desert.” He pauses for a moment, clearly debating what he wants to share. “About thirteen miles from the Gaza Strip border.”
My whole body tenses. “That’s… not safe.”
“Not exactly, no. But it’s unlikely we’ll encounter any problems. Even if we did, I promise I’ll protect you, my Dawn. You have nothing to worry about.” He pops a piece of sushi in his mouth, his nonchalance making him seem confident in himself beyond a shadow of a doubt.
I want to believe him, but I’m afraid, and fear is a powerful motivator. “Are angels sanctioning the 144k?”
“Why would you ask that?”
I thought it was obvious. “Aren’t they, you know… part of the apocalypse prophecy?”
“Oh,” he rubs the back of his neck. “Yes, they are mentioned in Revelation. I’d imagine we’re supporting the 144k, as the Almighty’s chosen people for Armageddon. However, that doesn’t mean we’re against Israel or Palestine, either.”
I purse my lips. That’s a non-answer if I’ve ever heard one. “Do you not know?”
He puts another piece of sushi in his mouth, seeming to buy himself some time to think as he chews. After a long sip of his white wine, he shrugs. “The plan for the Holy Land is above my pay grade, as your people say.”
My frown deepens. “Who would know?”
“The Council.”
“Who is that?”
“Just what it sounds like—a council of angels.” He sighs, seeming annoyed, before leaning back in his chair with his glass of wine. “Again, you have nothing to fear. You will be safe with me. Would you have me swear it to Kesbeel?”
“Who?” Kes-bee-ul? Is that supposed to be a name? Maybe I misheard him, and he actually said keys' bell. But… that still wouldn’t make any sense…
“It’s—” His expression falters, momentarily dipping into uncertainty. “Just someone of an old legend that we angels will sometimes swear oaths in the name of.”
“What’s the legend?”
“A long story for another time.” He tips his glass of wine towards my food. “Eat, Kae. Once your stomach is no longer growling at us, you can go back to sleep.”
Sleep does sound nice.
I consider grilling him with questions for a bit longer, but I don’t think I’d get any further. Plus, I have so many that I haven’t even begun to prioritize what I need to know the most.
Tomorrow, then.