by Eva Brandt
Azazel plopped down on Metatron’s immaculate couch and idly crossed his legs. “I think it’ll always fascinate me how the angels who come from mankind seem to hate humans the most. Is that a sign? What do you think, Ms. St. John?”
Wait, what? Metatron had been a human? What the fuck? If so, why did he have such a problem with me?
Before I could figure out the answer to my new questions or provide Azazel with an answer, Metatron forced himself to calm down.
“Maybe you’re right, Azazel. It is a sign. Humans have always been self-destructive. But I’m not human anymore, and you’d do well to remember that. I’m in charge of Watcher Academy, not you.”
Azazel didn’t flinch, but he did tense, his lips tightening in a grimace of pain. I didn’t know what was going on, but it was obvious that Metatron was hurting Azazel in some way. Sariel and Yeqon remained rooted in their spots, but somehow, I suspected it wasn’t by choice.
Considering our background, I shouldn’t have cared. But I didn’t want to owe these bastards anything. Besides, I might want revenge, but now that I saw it happen in front of me, it felt wrong. Unsatisfying.
“Listen, Archangel Metatron,” I piped up. “If you know anything about me, you must be well aware I’m not exactly happy to be here either. But even so, I was given this chance and this gift and I’ve chosen to embrace it. It might be a special privilege, like you say, but I’ll do my best to show the people who put their faith in me that they weren’t wrong.
“I don’t belong at Watcher Academy, it’s true. But life, death or fate have brought me here anyway. Arguing about it is pointless, since none of us really have a say in the matter.”
My little speech worked, distracting Metatron from his current targets. When he turned his eyes toward me, though, I struggled to remember why I’d thought defying him was a good idea.
“How sweet. It looks like you’re already attached to these creatures. They’re Lucifer’s closest lieutenants, you know. They killed your parents.”
I’d already been aware of that. Although I hadn’t specifically seen Sariel, Yeqon and Azazel in the vision, the Grim Reaper had told me enough about the Watchers for me to realize it. This wasn’t anything new.
That didn’t mean it didn’t grate on me, or that it didn’t hurt to see Metatron use my parents’ death so dismissively. “I know that,” I said snappishly. “I also know you couldn’t care less about my feelings or about my parents. If you’re so fond of truth, don’t try to manipulate me.”
“The two things are completely unrelated, but so be it. We’ve gotten off topic anyway.” Metatron waved his wing and a side door opened, revealing another corridor hidden beyond.
A female archangel emerged from inside. She was dressed in a gown similar to mine, and her hair tumbled to her shoulders in waves of gold and green. Her presence held something warm and comforting, but it didn’t reassure me for too long. When she turned her gaze toward me, the soothing feeling became almost scorching.
“So, I take it this is the human.”
She didn’t sound as dismissive of me as Metatron. Mostly, she didn’t sound… like anything. Her voice was blank and neutral, as if she didn’t have any opinion at all.
It alarmed me more than Metatron’s overt hostility. At least with the truth-obsessed archangel, I knew where I stood. I was nowhere near as lucky with this woman.
Metatron shot her a quick, barely perceivable smile. “Yes, Ariel. This is Delilah St. John. Ms. St. John, this is Archangel Ariel. She will be in charge of accommodating you at Watcher Academy and she’ll also prepare you for the true tasks ahead.”
Well, shit. This was getting better and better.
“Thank you,” I said, falling onto my manners as a defense mechanism. “I appreciate that.”
And I did, assuming the ‘accommodating’ was actually real and not another way to fuck me over. Considering my experience here so far, I wasn’t too optimistic about it.
“I’m just doing my duty,” Ariel replied blandly. “Now come. We must begin preparations.”
Without another word, she turned on her heel and left the room through the same door she’d used to come inside. I said a quick goodbye to the other angels and followed.
Idly, I couldn’t help but think that I would have preferred to stay with the Watchers. I quickly suppressed the thought, furious with myself.
Sariel, Yeqon, and Azazel were my enemies. One day, I’d make them pay for what they’d done. One day, I’d make them suffer. Until then, until I had enough power to show them the error of their ways, I’d just have to keep my distance—even if that meant sticking with the archangels who obviously didn’t like me.
Memories of Darkness
“This is going to be your room until further notice. We’ve crafted it with human biology in mind, so you shouldn’t experience any problems. However, keep in mind that these amenities are temporary, so you should try to get used to your new life as an angel.”
I looked around the provided living quarters, feeling conflicted about it. The small apartment was almost an identical copy of my bedroom at home, with my family’s living room attached. Intellectually, I realized that angels would have no trouble finding out how my house looked like, but it still felt weird.
To make matters worse, the angels had made one significant change—the color scheme. I’d always liked intense colors and had been extra fond of deep shades of red. I’d had enough sense to not use that kind of paint on my bedroom walls, but there had been plenty of decorative objects with a darker tint. Right now, there was no trace of that. Everything was as white as Metatron’s office.
It was like a reminder of what I’d lost, of how much things had changed. This room was, in a twisted way, a symbol of me, of the life and color that had washed away in the yachting accident, under the brutal power of the ocean.
I swallowed around the sudden knot in my throat and forced myself not to cry. “This place is like a prison,” the Watchers had said. I was beginning to think it was more like a sanatorium. But that was fine. I wasn’t here because I wanted to be comfortable.
This room would have to do. Maybe in the future, once I earned my wings, I’d be able to make something better for myself, but in the meantime, I’d get by.
“Thank you,” I offered again. “I appreciate all your help.”
“Like I said, you don’t need to thank me. This is my duty. As an archangel, I’m bound to complete any task I’m assigned.”
“Any task?” I repeated curiously. “Don’t you have an opinion of your own?”
“My opinions aren’t relevant. The only thing that matters is the wisdom of The Supreme Being.”
That wasn’t a ‘no’. Then again, if angels had been chronically unable to experience emotion or have opinions, Lucifer wouldn’t have fallen from Heaven in the first place. And since he’d taken enough people with him that a whole academy was necessary, he wasn’t an anomaly.
In any case, I had no intention of bringing that up with Ariel. She had her code which she followed, and everything else was her business. I had my own problems to handle.
“I understand. If I may ask, what do you mean about getting used to life as an angel?”
“Celestial beings don’t have the same needs mortals do. We’ve provided you with a bathroom, but you don’t technically need it. Your body, as it exists now, has no mortal biological functions. You don’t need to urinate, defecate, or bathe. You don’t even need to sleep, although that is recommended for mental fortitude.”
I struggled to process what she was telling me. It made sense, of course, but at the same time, I couldn’t quite understand an existence like the one she was suggesting.
“So if I don’t need those things, why do I have the bathroom?”
“It’s for your adjustment period. Your body might no longer be human, but your mind is, and it is attached to these things. We’ll slowly wean you off them.”
She was talking about going to the toilet as if it was a
vice—like smoking or doing drugs. But maybe that was true, for them. Biological functions were a sign of human weakness, which I assumed weren’t a good thing for an angel to have.
“Right. I look forward to your guidance. When will my classes start?”
“As soon as you’re ready for them. For the moment, I’ve been entrusted with the task of giving you a brief flight tutorial.”
Wait, what? A flight tutorial? Fuck. Somehow, I had the feeling this wouldn’t go as well as the ones in my video games.
“Err… I don’t actually have wings. How am I supposed to fly?”
My question cracked Ariel’s impassive facade and she shot me an exasperated look. “You don’t have them now, but I will help you extract them.”
That sounded painful, but dying had hurt too. I braced myself and nodded. Since she’d repeatedly told me not to thank her, I settled on a neutral response. “I’ll do my best.”
She ignored my comment, showing no interest in empty pleasantries. “This way, then.”
My apartment was located in the same building as Metatron’s office, although in an entirely different wing. I had a small terrace, accessible from the living room. From there, we had to go up another flight of stairs that winded around the side of the building like ivy.
Finally, we reached the topmost floor, which was more or less like a tower and very similar to the floating spires I’d seen earlier. “This will be our temporary training space,” Ariel explained. “Don’t worry. It’s perfectly safe.”
“I’m not worried,” I replied. “It’s not like I can die, right?”
My lame joke fell flat. “There are worse things than death, Delilah St. John,” Ariel said. “You’d do well to remember that.”
Secretly, I agreed. Dying hadn’t been as bad as being forced to face my family’s pain. But I doubted Ariel was referring to that, so I didn’t answer.
“We’ll begin with a simple lesson. I want you to close your eyes and reach out to The Celestial Realm. Get a feel for it. Allow yourself to become one with the energy of the divine.”
That sounded like a bunch of mumbo jumbo to me, but I wasn’t the archangel here. Close my eyes and get a feel for the divine. Okay. I could do this. No sweat.
I followed Ariel’s instructions and let myself drift. At first, I had no luck. I was acutely aware of Ariel’s presence by my side, of the weight of her expectations and disapproving eyes. I couldn’t find anything all that divine inside me. The only thing I felt was my own failure and the depth of my resentment.
Memories of darkness and death returned to the forefront of my mind. All of a sudden, I was back on Earth, struggling to breathe, and then abandoning all hope as my body was utterly ruined. I was facing the Grim Reaper again and taking his cold skeletal hand. I was seeing my shadowy future in the depths of Morrigan too knowing eyes.
“Lila, breathe,” my father whispered in my head. “Don’t worry. Your mother and I are here for you.”
But they weren’t. No one was. I was all alone, tasting copper and ash in my mouth. I was so lost, so cold, and so very afraid. The darkness was replaced by endless fields of white, and the absence of everything burned me—my retinas, my skin, my whole body.
A strong hand landed on my shoulder, snapping me out of my trance. I blinked, trying to dispel the blurriness in my vision. It worked and I realized that, at one point, I’d fallen to my knees and maybe even unconscious. Ariel knelt in front of me, her wings expanded, emanating a beautiful, warm light.
“It would seem you’re not yet ready for the technique I was planning to teach you. You’re still too bound to The Mortal Realm.”
I’d been given a bathroom precisely because of that, so I didn’t know why this result was a surprise. Archangels were exhausting.
“My death was recent. I still remember it vividly. I’m confident I’ll be able to master the technique, given time.”
“Yes, you will. We’ll keep trying until you succeed.”
Horror exploded through me, but the words of protest bubbling in my throat didn’t come out. “You can become a guardian angel,” the Grim Reaper had told me.
I had to believe that was true, because I had nothing else left but that hope.
* * *
Later that day, I returned to my room, feeling like I’d been run over by a truck. Since I no longer had a physical body, I shouldn’t have experienced such extreme discomfort, but apparently, those rules didn’t apply to me. My mind thought discomfort was warranted, so I felt it anyway. Joy.
Just because I could, I made a beeline for the bathroom. On automatic pilot, I ran the water in the white tub, took off my white dress and dumped it on the—also white—marble tiles. Once the tub was full with pleasantly warm water, I climbed inside.
Leaning against the edge of the tub, I soaped up my body, all the while trying to relax. I’d always taken great comfort in baths and showers, and it had nothing to do with handsome pool boys. This kind of simple ritual cleared my head.
I hoped to accomplish the same thing today. I really should have known better than to think it would be so easy.
There was no dirt on my body I could scrub off, but that wasn’t the problem. At first, the feel of the water on my skin was enjoyable, anchoring me in a world where nothing made sense. But as the seconds ticked past, the tub became something else—a trap—and the bath water started to swirl in front of my very eyes.
In my reflection in the water, I could see my own dead body. My blond hair hung limply against my pallid cheeks, and my chest wasn’t moving. And then, blood filled the tub, and I was slowly coming apart, my flesh vanishing as an unseen predator devoured me.
I screamed and shot to my feet, terrified out of my mind. Escape. I had to escape. There were monsters in the water. Death was after me.
In my haste to get away, I tripped over the edge of the tub and fell to the floor, hitting my head painfully against the marble tiles. I barely felt it. I couldn’t feel anything else except terror.
The next thing I knew, I was in the corner of the bedroom, still shivering and naked. I didn’t remember leaving the bathroom, but I must have done it at one point. There was no one else with me, and no monsters hunting me. From my angle, I could still catch a glimpse of the tub, harmlessly glistening in the bright light. There were no dead bodies and no blood.
But how could there be? The blood and bodies had been lost already, in the ocean.
The irony was that I didn’t recall being eaten. If it had happened, it must have been after I’d been crushed or drowned. I wasn’t exactly sure what had brought about my death, per se, but it hadn’t been a sea creature. Or at least, I didn’t think so.
A headache was pulsing at the back of my skull. I got up, regardless. I couldn’t allow myself to get crippled like this, damn it. So, taking baths was out as a source of comfort. Ariel would undoubtedly rejoice. I’d tell her I’d decided to advance to the next step in the How to Be an Angel 101 class faster. If Metatron called me out on my lie, fuck him.
But I couldn’t talk to them yet, not when I’d just arrived, which left me at a loss. I was still exhausted and didn’t want to stay in the room anymore. Maybe I could go exploring through the terrace.
The idea appealed to me. I hadn’t gotten the chance to enjoy the view of The Celestial Realm earlier, too distracted by my overwhelming hosts. If I was alone, I could enjoy it a little more.
But there was a problem with that plan. My dress was still on the floor in the bathroom. I had no desire to go back after it, but I also had no other clothes.
How did one even get clothes here? The Watchers had just willed my gown into existence. Could I do that too?
I tried, but all I got for my effort was an even more powerful migraine. Fuck it. I grabbed a sheet, wrapped it around myself for a minimal amount of decency and stalked through the terrace doors.
As soon as I stepped outside, I congratulated myself for my decision. Suddenly, I felt like I could breathe again. Heaven might not be loc
ated in the sky, but the sun still seemed closer. It wasn’t a physical sensation. It was something that went deep, into my core, warming me and chasing away the shadows of my terror.
I leaned against the banister of the balcony and stared out into the distance, trying to catch glimpses of the rest of The Celestial Realm. The landscape seemed to shuffle and shift. It was very strange. One moment, I could have sworn I saw forest, and the next, a mountain range was in the same place. In some areas, there was nothing I could understand, just a blank space, filled with glowing energy currents. If I tried very hard, I could distinguish several angels flying somewhere above me. Beyond it all, I could see the gates I’d passed through, so tall they were visible even from the distance.
It was a gilded cage—for me and the Watchers—but it could have been much worse.
I didn’t know how much time passed while I just stood there, watching the angels flying and enjoying the view. The sound of familiar voices startled me from my trance.
“Hey there, Delilah. I hope you don’t mind us dropping by for a visit.”
I looked down, only to see that at one point when I hadn’t been paying attention, the banes of my existence had reappeared. The three Watchers were now standing below me, eyeing me with interest.
Azazel was beaming widely, and his teeth looked very sharp. “You know, princess, you might have told us you’re not here to tempt us, but considering your current attire—or lack thereof—I’m not inclined to believe you.”
I looked down at myself and realized that my sheet had slipped past my breasts and was barely covering me at all. Yelping, I pulled the material back up, desperately trying to regain some of my lost dignity.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that on our account, sweetheart,” Yeqon drawled. “We were really enjoying the view.”
“W-What are you doing here?” I stammered, torn between slapping them and kicking myself for my reckless behavior.
