Chapter 14
I’m woken by someone incessantly knocking on my bedroom door.
“It’s time for dinner, Dawn!” Dusk yells, muffled by the barrier. “Are you asleep or something? Hurry up!”
“Yes, I was asleep, you impatient angel,” I snap back, dragging myself out of bed. “Thanks for the wake-up call. Now give me a damn minute!”
I’m grouchy, but I don’t really blame him for rushing me.
After going the whole day with only a granola bar to eat, my stomach is growling like a ferocious monster, and I’m so dizzy that my head hurts.
Being presentable for dinner is the least of my concerns, so I throw on the first pair of jeans and clean shoes I can find in my bags, getting out the door in record time.
I find Dusk impatiently sitting on the table of my little sitting room, and stalk past him out the door. In a silent, hunger-fueled march, we retrace the route Abaddon showed us.
Within minutes, we’re opening the ornate wooden doors.
The room inside is a regal, grandiose dining hall.
Its edges are resplendent with mirrors, chandeliers, and candelabras, while its heart contains a sleek, glistening table spanning the length of the room.
Delicate crystal glasses and silver plates are set along the dark wood, all shimmering and flickering in the candlelight, while beautiful floral arrangements of dark red roses and white baby’s breath decorate the center.
“We shall eat here,” Abaddon’s low-rolling voice, passing from behind me, nearly gives me a heart attack. Paying no attention to the full-body flinch he just gave me, he walks to the far end of the table, pulling out the head seat for himself.
Dusk, on the other hand, raises his eyebrows with a cocky grin. “Jumpy, much?”
“Shut up,” I mutter. After a moment’s hesitation, I follow behind Abaddon.
The sparse company seems inadequate for all this grandeur. There must be two dozen seats here. Where the hell am I supposed to sit? Is it more or less polite to sit directly next to the King?
I glance over my shoulder, frowning when I see Dusk isn’t behind me. Trailing my gaze across the room, I find he’s gone around the opposite side of the table.
Reluctantly, I look to Abaddon.
His ghastly silver eyes are already staring at me, his face void of any and all emotion. Without a word, he raises a hand towards the seat next to him.
Only then does it sink in: I have to eat dinner with these two angels, who are both poorly hiding their hostility towards each other with impassiveness.
If I weren’t starving, I’d politely decline and get the hell out of here.
Expeditiously. But, unfortunately, I might faint if I tried that now, so I cautiously close the distance and sit down at the King’s side, across the table from Dusk.
As if sensing the perfect timing, servants immediately flitter in from the side doors.
I never thought I’d be happy to see locusts, especially not so soon after meeting them for the first time, but I’m grateful for the buffer. With efficient artfulness, they fill our glasses with water and wine, setting the stage for the meal without pause.
“Thank you,” I mumble, stumbling over my words as my eyes catch on their unusual hands. It’s all golden metal, skinny as a bone with too many joints, sticking to objects like geckos. They don’t even need their thumbs.
I glance over at Dusk, baffled, but the bastard is only amused by my reaction. Upon catching my eye, he raises his wine glass in my direction in a silent ‘cheers.’
Sure. Fuck it. I’ll take the excuse to chug some angel wine.
After a subtle tip of my glass in return, I easily down half the bubbly, white liquid. It’s surprisingly sweet, sparkling with carbonation, and has a more citric flavor than others I’ve tried. I don’t even really like wine, and it’s delicious.
The servants return within moments, carrying large, covered platters with their gangly top limbs. In synchrony, they reach past us, placing the platters in the center of the table.
Once the covers are removed, the display is beautiful enough for a painting. The spread of food covers the center of our end of the table, family-style, for us to pick and choose our own portions.
Right. Because we’re just one big, happy, murderous family.
As the servants withdraw, I give the two angels one last glance, intent on judging how safe it is for me to eat without them tearing out each other’s throats. Luckily for me, they seem too preoccupied with piling food on their silver dishes to have much interest in each other.
Cautiously, I follow their lead, filling my own plate with obviously familiar foods.
After seeing the monster farm animals we passed on our way through the city, I’m not about to try the sausage.
Even the steak looks a bit suspicious. But, thankfully, there’s some very obvious roast chicken, so I won’t have to swear off meat completely.
The next several minutes of our meal are filled only with the slight sounds of utensils scraping on plates. It is uncomfortable at best and torturous at worst.
I think long and hard about how I might engage Abaddon in conversation, or if I even should. Surely there has to be something I can say to diffuse the tension. If I have to spend every meal here in such painful silence, I won’t last long in this place. Not without losing my mind.
I clear my throat, deciding to start with the basics. “So, um. Abaddon—if I can call you that. Is it, uh… just you and the locusts down here? No other angels?”
His responding voice is civil enough, though very stilted. “It is largely the locusts and me, though we are kept company by some creatures of the night. Travelers do come and go, with our lodging mostly benefiting angels.”
He goes back to eating his food without looking at me.
With how unaccustomed he is to the modern nuances of conversation, I might as well be trying to communicate with a ghost.
I flash Dusk a look, trying to silently communicate the question of ‘What do I do?’
Unfortunately, he just shrugs in a very ‘Not my problem’ response, causing me to roll my eyes and glare at him.
Abaddon must notice our complete silence, because he eventually looks up from his plate. “You are the first human in the Abyss, if that’s what you were wanting to know.”
“Oh, uh…” I panic, not knowing how to respond. “So I’m like… a special snowflake, huh?”
Why—why did I think I could make a joke? I want to kick myself for how awkward it comes out. Even more so after receiving a strange look of confusion from him.
Dusk, on the other hand, looks quite humored. I’m sure it isn’t my joke that he’s laughing at, though. No, that’s all for me and how easily I’m embarrassing myself.
After a brief pause, Abaddon replies by taking me literally, “You have the metaphysical key that will open the entirety of the Abyss. So, yes, your soul has been blessed with a gift that is very… ‘special.’”
“Great,” I swallow, ignoring the breathy cackle that comes from Dusk.
My moment of defeat doesn’t last long, thankfully. An idea strikes me. If Abaddon is going to make every interaction with him deathly serious, then I might as well make the most of it.
“Which reminds me…” I start, watching as he pauses eating to look at me again. Maybe it’s just his face, but he doesn’t seem to be enjoying this poor excuse for a conversation any more than I am. I have to work quickly.
“When you and Dusk were, um, arguing earlier…” That’s the nicest way I can think to put it. “You mentioned something about reincarnation. Is that a thing that everyone does?”
He stares at me as if I’ve just asked a ridiculously stupid question, and he needs to check if I’m serious. “No. Everyone who exists only gets one soul. Do they not teach this to you in human school?”
Dusk leans back in his seat, clearly entertained. “Yeah, Dawn. If they’re not teaching you about souls, then what do you people even go to school for?”
My death glare does nothing to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face. As if I’m not having trouble enough conversing with this dinosaur, Dusk just has to instigate.
Two can play that game, though.
“No, Malak,” I pointedly hiss his real name. “The fundamentals of spirituality weren’t exactly well-communicated to us humans as a whole. One could even say that messenger angels might be to blame for that.”
He frowns.
I reign victorious.
Abaddon interrupts our exchange, “The star containing the power to open the Abyss just so happened to attach to your mortal soul. If your mortal body were to die without your soul ever merging with it, the star would not. It would most likely detach, passing on to somebody else in the material plane.”
“Wait, it—what?” I choke on the bite of food in my mouth and have to down some water real quick before continuing. “My soul has to merge with it?”
I can’t even begin to fathom what that means.
Thankfully, Dusk finally decides to jump in and offer his opinion. “Consider the star as an add-on to your soul. If you were to die, your soul would leave this plane, and the star would be forced to find a new vessel. So, you have to absorb its power while you’re alive… in more or less words.”
I gape at him, dumbfounded. “You’re telling me that the power I’m trying to gain access to is actually a biblical parasite on my soul? And you want me to… what? Eat it? Become one with it?”
“That’s certainly one way of putting it.” Dusk scratches the back of his head, which I’m starting to think might be a nervous tic for him. “Though, I’d say it’s more similar to a dormant virus in its host.”
I shake my head. This is ludicrous. Out of all the insane shit I’ve seen and heard since meeting Dusk, a malignant star trying to infect my soul with its mysterious magic might just be the craziest. “Surely you guys have something wrong here. Either that, or you’re fucking with me.
Actually, I’m pretty sure you’re fucking with me.
How gullible do you think I am? I think I’d know if I had some kind of sentient eldritch terror living inside me—”
“Would you?” Abaddon says lowly.
My blood runs cold.
He was so quiet, I forgot he was part of the conversation for a moment there. And that voice? Menacing. Downright menacing.
“I…” I stutter, losing track of my words.
“I don’t… Well, I don’t fucking know, okay?
If it’s sentient, it’s never tried to make itself known to me.
Never said hello. Am I supposed to just let it infect me to get its powers now?
Is that not dangerous? Fucking hell—am I going to die from possession by biblical parasite? !”
The King interrupts me again, sounding impatient. “We wouldn’t be able to answer any of that. You are the first.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Well, isn’t that convenient?”
Dusk leans forward, trying to get my attention. “You’re spiraling, Dawn. We may not know much about the star, but that doesn’t mean we won’t figure it out. Alright? You’re going to be okay. I promise.”
I lean back in my seat, away from him. If he notices, he doesn’t show it. “How do you know I’m the first? What if you’re both lying, and everyone who’s tried before me has died?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you.” He tips his chin up some, looking at me straight-on, holding me in his gaze. After a few seconds trapped in it, heat rises to my cheeks, words and intelligent thoughts evading me.
“Do you think it would change anything if we were?” Abaddon, again, butts in.
I peel my eyes away from gold, giving them to silver.
“Yes, Abaddon,” I growl. There goes my temper again—driving me to risky behavior. “It would change my trust in your kind. If you were expecting me to say I’d give up just because the stakes were raised, then you clearly don’t have the slightest idea what kind of person I am.”
I swear I see a muscle twitch in his jaw. “It does not matter what kind of person you are. What you do or don’t know won’t change anything. All that matters is your actions. One way or another, the Abyss will open. The prophecy will not be defied.”
“You know, that sounds an awful lot like a threat to me. If you’re going to kill me, you should really stop wasting your time playing host and just do it already.
” I stand up, my seat scooting back and scraping the floor in the process.
“But I don’t think you will. I don’t believe you’re certain the power to open your Abyss would pass to someone else if I died.
From where I’m standing, I have something you want.
So, it’d do you well to learn how to treat me with respect, Your Highness. ”
Dusk stares at me, looking taken aback. I only barely note it from the corner of my eye. I’m too busy staring a hole into the King.
Then, for a brief moment, I feel the strangest, most indescribable pull to him. My fixed face falls, the fire simmering inside me suddenly snuffed out.
“Noted,” he finally says, nonchalantly going back to eating his food.
The feeling subsides, leaving me baffled.
I can’t tell if I imagined it or not. Is it this place? The parasitic star I just discovered is inside me? The haunting, nearly white silver of his glowing irises?
“Excuse me,” I mutter, backing away from the table and rushing out of the dining hall door. I can’t get back to my room fast enough. I need some time to myself, away from angels and monsters, to sort out the dark sea of my mind.
I miss home already.