Epilogue
I’m lying on my stomach, my head resting in my hands, in the middle of a staring contest with Ramiel. He’s found himself a little perch on the posters of my bed, watching me from above.
“So what can you tell me about this place?” I finally ask.
He doesn’t respond.
“Ramiel, I adore you, but we could be a lot better friends if you actually talked to me. Is it that you don’t like to break character or something?
You do realize I know you’re not a bird, right?
” He seems to lower his head at that. Maybe that’s his version of bird sigh?
I could be getting somewhere. “Is existing as a bird that much better than being humanoid?”
Surprisingly, he looks at me and nods his little head.
I blink, processing, then release a slow breath. “I suppose I understand. If I could fly around and not worry about worldly troubles, I’d probably do that, too. But isn’t there some part of you that feels obligated to be involved? You still work with the angels for a reason, don’t you?”
He nods again.
“Okay, well, if you’re already hanging around, then why not talk to us, too? I know you’re more than just an animated celestial telephone, Ramiel.”
A brief pause, and then—
“Did. Once.” The words come out a bit robotic, and I can hardly understand him, but I don’t want to discourage him from trying. “Fire... Pain… Never again.”
My heart lurches, my eyes immediately softening. I forgot that he was punished, too. I can’t imagine the little bird did anything to deserve that kind of misery.
“I get that, too, but that doesn’t leave much of a life for you. You can’t protect yourself entirely from pain without blocking out all the good emotions. There is no sunlight without shadows, you know?”
“And it is… essential… to know the night,” Ramiel whispers, much more human-like than before. I feel like my eyes are going to bulge out of my head in wonder. He stares back at me for a moment, tilts his head, and adds, “Albert Camus.”
“Oh, is that who that’s by?” I laugh in some strange mixture of disbelief and amusement. “I didn’t even realize it was a quote. I thought it was just an old cliché. Got any other good ones?”
He looks away with that avian movement of his head for a moment before suddenly jerking his attention back to me. “Quotation is… a serviceable substitute… for wit... Oscar Wilde.”
“I love Oscar Wilde.” A full smile blooms across my lips. “How did you know that?”
He rustles his feathers in a way that looks something like a shrug. “I am many.”
“I didn’t realize birds read books—” I’ve barely got the sentence off my lips before he caws angrily at me. “Touchy subject. Fine, fine. I didn’t realize archangels read books.”
Ramiel caws at me again, and I throw my head back laughing.
I’d hate to admit it to Azael, but I don’t think that I’m going to be so miserable here.