by Eva Brandt
That knowledge anchored me and a surge of power stirred in my core. Threads of potent magic danced over my skin and zeroed in on my lovers. It crackled over my back and spine, but it didn’t hurt or make me uncomfortable. It was natural, right.
“Delilah,” Azazel groaned in front of me. “Fuck.”
“You feel so good, love,” Sariel gasped. His voice sounded choked and ruined, and I liked it almost as much as I liked his new pet name for me.
Yeqon didn’t bother saying anything at all. His magic responded to mine, sweeping through all of us, passionate and fierce. His loss of control triggered a chain reaction inside Sariel and Yeqon.
Until that moment, I’d hovered on the edge of climax, and if I hadn’t come, it must have been only because of my desire to prolong the moment. But even this celestial form had its limits, and I could no longer contain the wellspring of sensation pooling inside me.
With a muffled cry, I came, every inch of me vibrating with the intensity of my orgasm. Azazel followed, pumping my mouth full of seed as he found his peak. Behind me, Yeqon and Sariel climaxed together. Their combined power met Azazel’s, creating a vicious circle that threatened to utterly consume me—or would have, had I not accepted it so eagerly.
I lost myself in the moment, in the perfection of my bond with my lovers. It was overwhelming, and at the same time, smooth and soothing. A small part of me was afraid, because I still couldn’t understand so many things. I wasn’t even sure why I’d reached for them the way I had. But it had been the right choice. I believed in them and I believed in us.
The pleasure peaked, swelled, and then finally settled into a warm, sedate afterglow. We collapsed together on the nest of feathers, still shaking and breathing hard.
One of these days, I’d figure out how in the world sex affected divine creatures, but today was not that day.
The surface of the dome was glowing with our combined magic. When Sariel looked up, I knew he could see the archangels watching us, questioning our relationship.
He didn’t say anything about it, perhaps not wanting to make me uncomfortable. I decided to speak out in his stead. “It’s okay. I’m not worried about them. If they have a problem with it, that’s too damn bad.”
“You really are quite fearless, aren’t you?” Yeqon mused.
I wasn’t. In fact, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. But my fears were hidden deep in the recesses of my mind. The archangels of Watcher Academy didn’t scare me nearly as much as the darkness that lived inside me.
“I’m not that special. I’m just a girl who wants to be free.”
“I don’t know if we can offer you that, Delilah,” Azazel admitted. “Freedom is in short supply here.”
“I know and it’s fine. You’ve already given me more than enough.”
I had to earn my own freedom and fulfill my deal with the Grim Reaper. That was my responsibility, not anyone else’s. But having my lovers there for me, knowing they cared, meant the world to me.
Soon, we’d have to go back to our regular, day-to-day lives. Soon, we’d have to face Watcher Academy again. But for now, I could take refuge in their arms and pretend, if only for a little while, that everything was going to be all right.
Creature of Deception
You’d think that having a near-death experience that had almost damned my soul would massively change my perspective on what I was and wasn’t supposed to do. It didn’t. Staying with my lovers in the dome turned out to be beneficial for all of us, and when we returned to class, we were less restless than we’d been before. But even if I’d taken comfort in my relationship with my Watchers, I was realistic enough to realize we were still in a lot of trouble.
Most students weren’t even aware of what had happened to me and thought my lovers’ punishment had just been because they’d lost their temper as usual. The teachers didn’t mention the incident in the dome again, seemingly deciding to ignore the fact that I’d been able to overcome such a powerful curse using the magic of forgiveness.
Honestly, I didn’t blame them. The more I thought about it, the more absurd it seemed. It had made so much sense at the time, but now, I found myself wondering how it could have possibly worked.
I didn’t have an answer to that and neither did my lovers. “This sort of thing isn’t our area of expertise,” Yeqon explained, somewhat sheepishly. “It never was, and that didn’t change after we switched sides.”
“It might be something that’s unique to Guardian Angels,” Azazel suggested.
Sariel didn’t seem to care about the whole thing that much. “Maybe. But celestial magic stems from a lot of different sources. I think we have other, more important things to worry about. Namely, who is behind the attack on you.”
He had a point. The archangels weren’t going to do anything about it, since, for some reason, they believed my lovers had been the ones to attack me. Never mind that the idea didn’t make any sense, since none of them had a reason. The rest of the staff—including Professor Grim—had decided to not interfere. Apparently, the concept of ‘they’re Watchers, they must be completely crazy’ was enough.
But it was not enough for me. The person who’d tried to kill me could try again. And even if they didn’t, I wanted to prove them all wrong and permanently clear my lovers’ names.
Unfortunately, we didn’t have a lot of options that would help us investigate and before I knew it, we had to go back to classes and set it all aside. We had lessons with Ariel and the Grim Reaper, but I was unable to speak with either of them.
And then came the day when, for the first time, I was introduced to something I actually already knew.
“You’re going to get a kick out of this one,” Yeqon told me as we made our way through the academy. These days, whenever we had to go to class, they flanked me protectively and made sure I was never alone. “I’m sure it’ll be amusing.”
“Amusing? Why?”
“The teacher’s always been interesting. And he’s not like the archangels.”
As it turned out, the teacher was Lazarus, the former human who’d encouraged me the day I’d gone to the crematorium. I’d liked him during our first meeting and I could see why my lovers felt the same.
The class Lazarus taught was called Mortal Defense Mechanisms and was, in essence, a review of whatever humans had cooked up this century that could jeopardize the existence of other realms. “Sometimes, we discuss weaponry,” Sariel explained as we took our seats in the class. “Lazarus believes nuclear weapons could damage angels, if not completely kill them.”
“That’s… impressive,” I admitted. “How does that even work? Angels don’t have bodies at an atomic level, do they?”
“It’s the level of energy,” Azazel told me. “An atomic bomb scatters the energy currents that allow us to be life forms instead of undefined clouds of power. We can be reformed. It’s just irritating and painful.”
I frowned, wondering it my lovers had ever been through that kind of experience. The idea terrified me, even if they were right there in front of me. But by now, I was beginning to grow accustomed to this feeling of utter dread that so often haunted me. This time, I even had the benefit of a distraction, since Lazarus decided to start the class, and it wasn’t about weaponry.
“Today, we’ll be talking about human surveillance systems. As you all know, in past decades, humans have progressed greatly in the fields of communication and security. Their technology has reached such levels that, in some ways, it’s beginning to rival the abilities of The Celestial Realm.”
Several of the Watchers shared skeptical looks. Obviously, they didn’t think that was possible.
“I know, I know, it seems unlikely,” Lazarus said with a weak, raspy laugh. “Perhaps it’s not the most inspired comparison. But let me put it this way. The satellites they launch into space are similar to your Watcher skills. Through them, they can zero in on any part of the world to see what is going on.
“Granted, they’re still
limited by their own mortal existences, and as such, they can only touch and see The Mortal Realm. But it is remarkable progress, nonetheless, and something we should take very seriously.”
“Are you saying the mortals are a threat to us, Sir?” Penemue asked from the front of the class.
“We’ve already established that is a possibility in past lessons,” Lazarus reminded us. “This is even more important. As long as the mortals do not perceive us, or perceive us only on a subconscious level, they will remain mostly uninvolved in other conflicts. Contrary to popular belief, demons do not make it their business to regularly harm humans, as humans cannot sin if they are possessed. Demonic contracts are the exception, but most demons can only enslave one human at a time. That means that, in the big picture, the mortal world will remain untouched by our battles.”
I didn’t know how I felt about that statement. It sort of made sense, but at the same time, it reminded me of what had happened to me and my family. Bitterness rose up inside me and I clenched my fists, forcing myself to suppress it.
Sariel took my hand and squeezed it under the table. He didn’t tell me anything as pathetic as an ‘it’s all right’. In fact, he didn’t say anything. He was just there, as were the others. It meant far more than simple words ever could.
It was also what gave me the strength to shelf my irritation and focus on what mattered most. Lazarus’s mentioning of cameras had given me an idea. I put up my hand, signaling that I had a question. “Yes, Delilah?”
“Sir, if I may… I’m a little more familiar with mortal technology, and you mentioned satellites are somewhat similar to a Watcher’s skills. Does The Celestial Realm have anything like cameras to enforce security?”
From what Ariel and Raphael had told me before, I assumed the answer was ‘no’. But they hadn’t gone into detail on how divine surveillance systems worked, and they had never told me precisely why the black part of the Core was difficult to supervise. If I could figure it out, then maybe I’d be able to come up with an idea on who had attacked me.
Lazarus shot me a knowing look, but answered my question. “Everything we use here is based on spiritual energy, Delilah. That is to say, we don’t have specific devices, but energy currents run through the school, and qualified archangels monitor this activity at all times.
“But no method is perfect, and as is the case with human technology, our surveillance also has its blind spots. There are some areas, even here, where energy currents stagger and have trouble traveling.”
Energy currents. I didn’t know why, but as he spoke, an image popped through my head—that of Uriel during his class.
If there was anyone at the academy who disliked me enough to want to tear off my wings and damn my soul, it was Uriel. I’d been disrespectful to him and questioned his teachings. I’d pointed out the faults in his behavior. It stood to reason that he’d consider me a disgrace.
As a teacher, he specialized in Energy Projection, which would have made it very easy for him to detect the right moment when I was unguarded, in an area I should have avoided. Yes, it made so much sense. But was it true?
For the rest of the lesson, I couldn’t pay any more attention to whatever Lazarus was saying. It would have undoubtedly been interesting to take in a divine perspective on satellites and the dangers they posed, but I was too busy thinking about how to approach the topic of Uriel.
I couldn’t just go around making unfounded accusations. Uriel might have had the means, but so had a lot of other archangels. Energy projection wasn’t something unique to just him. And for all I knew, other members of the staff might hate me too. They just hadn’t been as vocal. Then, there were the students. One of the Watchers could have attacked me. Psychologically, that made more sense, because they’d have been far more inclined to break the rules than an archangel, no matter how much I’d slighted the divine being in question.
My lovers obviously noticed my agitation because as soon as class ended, they pulled me aside. “What’s wrong, Delilah?” Azazel asked without preamble. “You’ve been distracted.”
“It’s nothing.” When he and the others gave me identical looks of disbelief, I amended my words. “I was just thinking about what we discussed earlier, the person who could have attacked me.”
Yeqon’s eyes flashed crimson. “Oh? And did you reach any conclusions?”
“It just occurred to me that Uriel might have been involved. What do you think?”
My lovers didn’t look particularly surprised by my guess. “It’s something we considered too,” Sariel offered. “That whole business with Shamsiel was unpleasant. Uriel has never liked it when someone got between him and Shamsiel. It’s part of the reason why he carries such a grudge against Lucifer.”
Oh. Oh. “So the two of them…”
“Before our fall, yes, they were in a relationship,” Azazel said. “It’s complicated. I don’t know much about it, since at the time, we worked in separate areas. Uriel and Shamsiel were among those entrusted with guarding the Garden of Eden. I think Shamsiel looked the other way when Lucifer sneaked in to find the Forbidden Fruit, but that’s not the point.
“Even now, Uriel is still not over it. So we mostly try to stay out of the way and not get involved in that mess. Everyone does, even Metatron.”
I grimaced. “I’m not sure if I’m glad I intervened or sorry I made an already bad situation worse. I might not know a lot about relationships, but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to use torture for couples therapy.”
Sariel shrugged. “Archangels can have unusual tastes. Anyway, we’re going off topic. The idea is that he might have gotten angry enough to take it out on you. But it’s not in Uriel’s character to sneakily attack you. We’ve known him for millennia and I can’t help but think it’s unlikely.”
“Yeah, that’s the real problem here,” Yeqon said. “As a rule, angels tend to follow and value truth. It’s not even out of moral considerations. They’re proud of their actions, of who they serve, so they have no reason to lie.”
“Someone went to a lot of trouble to hide the truth this time around, Delilah,” Sariel added. “You know, we’re the ones who found you first when you were injured. Your attacker had already left, so I presume we must have interrupted him. Normally, we would have been able to sense him, get at least some feel of who was there before we arrived. Even the slightest vibration or taste of magic could have helped us figure it out. But there wasn’t anything. So even if the culprit was Uriel, we have no proof.”
We were going around in circles. I knew they were right, but at the same time, I couldn’t just stand here and do nothing. “I think I’m going to talk to Uriel. Even if he lies to us, I might be able to draw some kind of reaction. And if all else fails, I’ll try Sandalphon. He’s in charge of security, right? He should be able to help us.”
There was only one hole in that plan and it was what had been holding us back all along. Sandalphon didn’t hate me or anything, but he wasn’t my biggest fan either. If I tried to find him and ask him about this, he’d probably call me a presumptuous mortal and refuse to help.
But without information, there was no way to move forward, and I refused to continue my supposed new life in constant terror. I refused to take any chances with my soul. There had to be a way to force the archangels to cooperate with us, and I’d find it.
* * *
Surprisingly, Uriel was easy enough to find. He wasn’t in his class, but my lovers and I were able to track him down in a massive interior garden in the Core. He was with Sandalphon and another archangel I’d never met before. I was reluctant to approach them while they were with another person who would surely not be on my side. But we were here now, and the archangels had already seen us, so it was too late to turn back.
Sandalphon greeted us with a polite nod. “Delilah, Sariel, Yeqon, Azazel. Is anything wrong?”
If I’d been in the mood for games, I’d have pointed out something didn’t need to be wrong for me to want to come see t
he teachers I respected. But no one—including me—would have appreciated cheekiness right now, so I opted for an honest approach. “I was wondering if we could have a word with you and Uriel.”
“I presume this is about the unfortunate incident that happened after your recent Forgiveness class,” Uriel guessed. “We’re investigating it now. If you’d like to participate, you’re more than welcome to stay.”
“Don’t be obtuse, Uriel,” the other archangel said. “You know very well that’s not why they’re here.”
“I’m well aware. I’m just choosing to ignore it, since it’s far less absurd than agreeing to have a conversation on it.” He arched a brow at me in silent challenge. “But naturally, if Delilah insists on discussing it, I won’t refuse her. I’ll just start out by making one thing clear. I didn’t try to tear your wings off, Delilah. That’s just repulsive and the implication that I would offends me.”
I didn’t let his comment get to me. “Somebody did and you all didn’t find it that offensive when you rushed to accuse Sariel, Yeqon, and Azazel. I can’t imagine you genuinely believed they were the ones to do it, but you agreed to go through with that travesty of an imprisonment anyway. That doesn’t encourage me to have faith in you in the slightest.”
To my surprise, Uriel smiled. “That’s fair enough, Delilah. If you want us to tell you our reasoning, we will. The truth of the matter is that you don’t love them.”
After our confrontation in his class, I’d expected him to say something shocking, but I’d never anticipated that. “What?”
“It’s very simple,” Uriel replied. “Mortals are flighty. They take refuge in emotions they force themselves to believe in. It’s so much easier to dwell on the warmth and comfort a willing angel offers than it is to focus on loneliness and hate alone. Isn’t that true?”
Yeqon took a step forward and growled. He actually growled, like an animal. “Uriel… I’d watch my tongue if I were you.”
