Chapter 21 #2
I laugh in incredulity, verging on hysteria. “I have been barricaded in this one corner of the city for well over a month now, and now, now, I’m suddenly allowed to go exploring? Fuck you, Abaddon.”
True to his nature, he turns around and begins to walk away. “It’s your choice, Kae. Come with me or not. It makes no difference to me.”
I’m nearly shaking in anger as I watch him move towards the edge of the cliff. He knows he holds all the power here. He’s flaunting it. God, I hate him. I hate him so much.
“Fine!” I yell after him, the moment his wings spread out. “I’m coming.”
He turns around, the wide berth allowing him to keep his massive wings at full length, and looks at me idly. “It would be much quicker if I just flew you down there.”
My face pales. I shift my gaze beyond him, thinking about that nauseating drop. We’re so high above the base level. And how would that even work? I can’t imagine him bridal-carrying me through the Abyss. I absolutely cannot.
“No thank you.”
His face sours, becoming less than unamused. “Why not?”
“I, um… I just… I want to see everything.” I swallow. “Along the way. That’s all.”
“You can see everything even better from above.” He prowls towards me, quickly closing the distance between us. “You’re lying. I don’t like when you lie to me, Kae.”
“What? No. I’m—” I’m cut off by my own squeak of panic as I’m scooped into his arms.
“Don’t be scared,” he mumbles, so quietly I can barely hear him.
A second later, we’re jolting into the air.
I’ll admit, I’ve imagined what it’d be like to fly with the angels.
I did not imagine I’d spend most of it with my face pressed to an armored chestplate in sheer terror.
He flies up at first, far too high for my liking. I can tell by how much closer the false sun is to us, and I have no interest in looking at whatever insane view he wants me to see.
“Nope!” I squeeze my eyes tightly shut. “I’ll pass!”
Then he takes me over the mansions on the third tier. At his insistence, I take one glance over my shoulder. I can’t see whatever he’s trying to show me, because I can only focus on the terrifying drop. “Yep! So cool!”
Next, he flies low over the farmland. I try to look at what he claims are cornfields, but we’re moving so fast that my eyes water, and everything is a blur of color.
“Maybe we can… uh… walk… th-the rest?”
Mercifully, he drops us onto a wide staircase of clean white stone, and I’m finally able to return to my own two feet. Still trembling, I mutter my thanks before immediately beginning to descend the stairs in an effort to occupy myself.
There’s a sloping street to my side, and even further is another set of stairs, seemingly for going up instead of down.
Traffic on the road is sparse, with only a few locusts hauling carts with lightly clattering wheels.
Compared to the air, it’s actually quite peaceful.
At least, it is when we’re surrounded by the cornfields.
When we get to the next crop, I almost lose my lunch. Vines grow on the ground like pumpkins—except their pumpkins are translucent sacks, each filled with something that looks disturbingly like chunks of raw flesh.
The consistency of their practice dummies makes so much more sense now.
How absolutely repulsive and… incredibly innovative of them.
Environmentally friendly, sustainably sourced meat sacks.
I can’t really blame them for inventing it, considering humans have been trying to grow meat in petri dishes for many years now.
Maybe I can sneak some seeds back with me, just to see what happens—no, what am I thinking, that is such a bad idea.
I can think of countless ways that could go horribly wrong.
Desperate to distract myself from my intrusive thoughts, I turn my focus to Abaddon.
“Yes?” he says immediately, not even looking my way.
“I was just, um… wondering… if the city inside the Abyss has a name.” Decent enough of a save. It must be a logical question, too, because he looks slightly contemplative.
Or maybe it was a dumb question. Maybe he’s trying to understand how I could have been here this long and still not know its name—
“No. It is just the Abyss. Why would it have any other name?”
“Well…” I’m surprised that my distraction actually worked. “When you open the gates in Israel, is that not where the Abyss begins?”
“Yes.”
“So should the Abyss proper—the actual city—not have its own name? To differentiate it from the rest of the territory?”
“It does not need one. We simply refer to whichever location in the Abyss we’re speaking of.”
“Such as…?”
“The castle, the blackwater river, the bottomless pit, the gates, the central bazaar—”
“Okay, okay. I get it. No need to list all of them.” I skim a hand over my braid before tossing it onto my back. I’m far from socially extroverted, but Abaddon is not a conversationalist by anyone’s measures. Talking to him is like pulling teeth.
So, we walk down the rest of the long stairs in silence, all the way down to the first tier. It’s occupied by neighborhood after neighborhood, each having its own distinctive features. In the absence of good conversation, I take to observing the little microcosms of cultures.
At some point in time, a trio of small, short locusts burst past us, chattering amongst themselves. They seem completely oblivious to the presence of their King, almost chasing each other. And their skin is not nearly as wrinkled, either...
My eyes light up.
“Abaddon,” I whisper loudly, grabbing his attention. I make sure to wait until he turns around—staring at me like he hasn’t been this miserably bored since the Dark Ages—before I continue. “Were those little locusts children?”
“Yes.”
“Do they hatch from eggs, or are they born like humans?”
“Eggs, of course. They’re not mammals.”
“Well, how the fuck was I supposed to know that? You pulled me out of locust school for PT and meditation.”
“You never received such education here, and you wanted to…” His eyes narrow slightly as a light bulb comes on in his head, shockingly slow. “You jest.”
“We say ‘joke’ nowadays, but yes.”
He turns back around and continues walking without another word.
Moody bastard.
“Did your sense of humor die here, or did you never have one?” I call after him, hurrying my pace to catch up to his side.
“Not all of us refuse to take our responsibilities seriously.”
“Malak takes his job plenty seriously.”
“I never mentioned the Messenger.”
“You didn’t have to. Who else would you be talking about?”
He doesn’t respond, only further proving me right.
I let it slide, though, because we’re quickly coming upon the flashy tents at the center of the Abyss.
The Central Bazaar. So many times, I’ve looked over the cliffside and wondered about this place.
With the locusts constantly watching me, insisting I stay near the castle for safety reasons, I’d almost abandoned all hope of ever visiting it.
It’s every bit as lively and peculiar as I imagined.
My senses are assaulted the moment we step past the main gates, up onto a wooden platform, where we’re swallowed by a labyrinth of market stalls.
Some are large enough to warrant their own tents, while others crowd the would-be walkways.
All of them overflow with goods for sale, with many of the locusts waving around their offerings in a very human-like way of advertising.
A chatter of locusts comes from every direction, swollen with bartering in countless languages.
I can’t fathom why. I’d expect their locust clicks, or just plain English, but certainly not Russian, Latin, and Hebrew.
And there’s a vast assortment of aromas, too.
In one direction, I catch a hint of something distinctly spicy and savory.
In another, the sweetness of sugar and vanilla.
Metal, dirt, umami, charcoal, cinnamon.. . It’s all so overwhelming.
“What do you think?” Abaddon asks.
Staring at the nearest big stall, I confess, “I don’t have much money to shop with.”
“Do not worry. I have plenty to spare. Would you like to browse?”
“Yes, please.” After how much of a pain in my ass he’s been for the past month, I don’t have a problem taking his money for a few odd trinkets.
However, I am completely caught off guard when Abaddon takes my arm in his and politely escorts me through the crowd.
I’m too dumbfounded to say a word, letting him guide me to one of the largest shops—a rickety wooden building with a colorful curtain as a doorway.
As we approach, it blows out of the way in a very supernatural fashion.
Once inside, Abaddon releases my arm, allowing me to peruse in relative peace.
Such strange, beautiful objects surround me. I’ve never seen an array quite like it before. Not even at the arts and crafts shows that Jackie and I would frequent together.
Shimmering fabrics lay piled in one corner, each reflecting the light of unnatural gemstones. Jars full of something akin to bioluminescent bacteria line the walls above. Black stones adorn the spaces between them, some like little voids, reminiscent of outer spaces.
A large papier-maché sculpture, the bust of a white-robed man wearing an equally white mask, separates the first section from another. It’s almost reverently displayed, perched on a marble pedestal with its own spotlight.
I stop before it, puzzled.
The man isn’t wearing a mask at all, I realize. His face only looks like one, complete with hollow black holes for eyes, but it’s naturally blended into his neck. Very meticulously so.
I might have expected an homage to Abaddon here, but this… “What is this thing?”
“That is Kesbeel,” Abaddon replies, standing behind me and looking over my shoulder. “The Power of Oaths. The merchants attract a fair number of shoppers from Elohim, and they cater to their buyers. Angels are notorious for coming to buy raw materials, but leaving with artisan goods.”