Angel Exalted

by C. L. Coffey

  I turned, but my attention was caught by the beautiful buildings standing tall and unbroken behind the archangel. For a few minutes, my dismay was hidden by my awe as I stared up at the construction. I had never been to Rome – or Italy – so I had never had the opportunity to visit the ruins. The closest I had come were to pictures in textbooks when we had studied Ancient Rome in history. I’d never really given much thought to it. Now it was towering before me, I couldn’t help but be impressed at the idea that this was built by people with no diggers or cranes. I slowly turned, trying to find the landmarks I was familiar with. “Where’s the Colosseum? And St. Peter’s Basilica? And the one with all the columns?”

  “Right now, we would be in 78 BC. The Colosseum and St Peter’s Basilica will not be built for a number of years, centuries in the case of the latter. If the ‘one with all the columns’ you are referring to is the Roman Forum, that is what you are looking at behind me.”

  I watched the bustle of people moving between the buildings. I hadn’t realized the columns had belonged to the front of buildings. I had just assumed the Forum was like a giant marketplace. I was also surprised by the clothing. They weren’t togas so much as tunics, and there were very few white options.

  I was standing more than two thousand years in the past, but it was as clear and as vivid as though I were standing there now. It reminded myself of why I was there, and where there really was. This was Cupid’s dream. This was a memory of his, and given how complete it was, it was obvious he hadn’t forgotten a single detail. That upset me. More than two thousand years and he was unable to let go of this memory.

  “I’m not sure we should be here,” I told Michael, as I rubbed at my bare arms. “This feels invasive.”

  “Cupid knew what he was agreeing to when he granted us access to his dreams. I lived through this with him too.”

  “But I didn’t,” I pointed out. “When I’ve asked him about this period of his history before, he wasn’t able to talk about it. I don’t want to make him relive it.”

  “I’ve had the same dream every time I’ve fallen asleep.” Cupid appeared beside me, his golden eyes watching the crowds morosely. “I would relive it whether you were here or not.”

  I still wasn’t completely comfortable. I didn’t like to see my friend with such regret in his eyes, but if he was saying it was okay, and he was showing me this, then I was going to go with it. Selfish as it felt, I was in there for a specific reason: Joshua. “Then what do we do now?” I asked Michael.

  “Walk around. Familiarize yourself with this place. Then, let us find you.”

  I let out a deep sigh. “Can I have those instructions again, without the ambiguity?” I requested. Michael was excellent at making deliberately vague statements I struggled to interpret.

  “We shall remain here. You are to explore Rome, and then, I wish for you to allow us to find you?”

  I pressed my lips into a thin line as a stared at him. He’d pretty much said the same thing. “Fine,” I muttered. I walked away, leaving them by the riverbank. If he wanted to play games, then let him.

  Rome was hillier than I expected. I followed the stone path as it wound upwards to the Roman Forum, weaving around the locals. It was a weird sensation to be ignored by so many people, especially when my appearance was so jarringly different. I waved in the face of one man, yet I remained unseen. Then he turned around and walked into me. It wasn’t like previous dreams where the other ‘occupants’ were more ghost like than human. This one shoved me out of the way but didn’t even realize he had done it.

  My curiosity got the better of me and I found myself peering into every window, and walking through every open doorway I came across. I stared in wonder at the stalls, wrinkled my nose up at some of their eating habits, yet tried some of the food; or rather I attempted to try it. It was like trying to eat fake food from a movie set. If this had been how history classes were taught in school, I would have soaked everything up.

  Eventually, however, I grew restless. As much as I enjoyed seeing history in the present, I was struggling to see how any of this would be relevant. It was a bunch of ordinary people going about their lives, two thousand years ago. Maybe if he had set me in the middle of the Colosseum to battle a gladiator or eight, I might have found some form of benefit to this exercise.

  Honestly, with Cupid nowhere near me, what Cupid was able to conjure up was much more impressive. I was curious as to how aware he was in this dream. I supposed that would be revealed when we woke up. I started walking back to where I had started. This time, I was watching the route in reverse. The same people having the same conversations, eating the same meals. “Maybe he’s not all that aware,” I muttered to myself.

  When I returned to the riverbank, Michael and Cupid were not there. “Michael?” I called, looking around. “Cupid?”

  Had they gone to find me already?

  This was one of those things that made no sense. Why did they even need to find me? If they had just stayed in one place, I would have made it back to them.

  Okay, if they wanted me to play Waldo, I would. I switched my outfit out for blue jeans, a red and white striped polo shirt and a striped bobble hat. I conjured up a pair of big, round spectacles... Heck, I even turned my hair brown.

  Then I conjured up a flare gun. I held it in my hands, aiming up at the bright blue, sunny skies… and then changed my mind. Here in ancient Rome, a flare in the sky would be out of the ordinary, but it wasn’t that obvious on a day like this. I contemplated turning the day to night, and having a Disney sized display of fireworks explode above my head, but I didn’t really care for fireworks. It also wasn’t very specific at pointing out where I was.

  Not unlike a giant sign.

  I titled my head, staring at the open grassy area in front of me, just up the banking to the side of the Roman Forum. They wanted to find me, did they? Okay, I could do that.

  I ran up the banking, stopping at the edge of the grassland. I linked my fingers and pushed my hands out, making them crack in a way which would drive Sarah mad. Then I did turn the day into night. By the light of the moon – probably three times as big as it should have been – behind me, illuminating the area, I closed my eyes, screwing my face up in concentration as I tried to remember the structure I had in mind.

  Only when I was sure my image was as accurate as it was going to get did I open my eyes. Slowly, wrought iron started protruding from the ground, growing like a vine. It twisted upwards, creaking as it bent and started to interlink with each other.

  Halfway through, my progress stopped. I sank to the ground, panting, exhausted. My head bowed forwards as I tried to catch my breath, only for drops of sweat to run off my forehead and drip into my lap. I could feel the sweat running down my neck and under my top.

  Now I understood why Michael had insisted on eating well and resting. I used the back of my hand to wipe what sweat away from my face as best I could. I wasn’t done yet.

  With some effort, I got to me feet, sucked in a deep breath, and forced the iron structure to continue growing. Slowly, four branches came together into a single point. Two supporting braces stretched out part way down.

  It wasn’t an exact replica – I had a feeling my attempt wasn’t quite the right height – but in front of me, in the middle of ancient Rome, there was now...

  “The Eiffel Tower?” Michael asked, appearing beside me. In the darkness, I was struggling to see if he was smiling or scowling, but his tone was questioning.

  “It’s not all that noticeable,” mocked Cupid, draping his arm around my shoulder.

  I glanced up at him and cocked my eyebrow. With my attention still on him, I flicked an imaginary switch. Across the two horizontal supports, the words “I’M” and “HERE” exploded into light. “Oh, wait…” Down one of the legs, a giant arrow suddenly appeared.

  “Subtle,” Cupid commented, dryly. “You are aware this is Italy, right?”

  “You never said how I was to let you find me was to
be geographically or historically correct,” I pointed out. A wave of exhaustion hit me. The lights flickered as I slumped against Cupid. “Oh.”

  “We should leave here now,” Michael said, watching me. “Enough has been done here today.”

  Before I could comment, everything went gray.

  Then I awoke, groggy, feeling like I hadn’t slept for a month. “I need a Red Bull IV, stat,” I mumbled, rubbing at my eyes like that would hold the answer to rousing me. I sat up, bringing my knees up to rest my head against them, yawning. “Anyone?”

  “Did you conjure the Eiffel Tower, or did I just dream that?” Cupid asked. I glanced over, bleary eyed. He looked annoyingly well-rested.

  I yawned again, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. “No, you got the Eiffel Tower. Don’t you remember?”

  “It’s vague,” he muttered, shaking his head.

  “You did well,” Michael said, appearing beside me. He placed a hand on my shoulder, and then we were in the bedroom I had claimed off Veronica. “You should rest.”

  “Eat first,” Cupid declared, appearing beside Michael. He handed over a shrimp po’boy – my favorite – then took a seat in the small armchair in the room. “You really created the Eiffel Tower?”

  “Should I be concerned you barely remember that?” I asked, then took a large bite of the sandwich. Oh, I needed that!

  “Cupid is one of those individuals who need more than one visit for a Dream Walk to be considered successful,” Michael explained. He walked over to the door, then stood in front of it, watching me eat. “However, what you were able to create is truly impressive.”

  I hurried to swallow. “But it has completely zapped me of my energy,” I said, glumly. “Even in the dream, I was tired.”

  “Angel, I have never seen any angel with ability to take control of a dream’s landscape and manipulate it, never mind be able to recreate a structure as big and iconic as the Eiffel Tower. Your fighting skills may be lacking, but your mental ability is truly impressive.”

  “You have no idea,” Cupid muttered, slyly.

  I sent him a withering glare at his insult and was rewarded with him poking his tongue out at me. “Okay, fine, but unless Lucifer is a fairy, he’s not going to be defeated by a giant pile of iron. If that’s what I’m conjuring, that’s not going to be much help.”

  “I think it’s unfair to call the Eiffel Tower a ‘giant pile of iron’, Angel,” Cupid laughed.

  “The purpose of creating the Eiffel Tower was to be able to see what you are really capable of,” Michael jumped in. “Although I am still unsure as to whether Lucifer really can be defeated mentally, I feel more assured following that demonstration. You have a skill: a gift.” He nodded his head and folded his arms. “But that is enough for tonight. Sleep. We shall continue tomorrow.” He looked at Cupid and the two of them disappeared, leaving me yawning into my po’boy.

  I quickly demolished it, set the plate on the floor beside the bed, and then lay down on my side. I was asleep before I could finish licking my lips.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The Ides of Cupid

  By the time January hit, I finally felt like I had made progress. I spent the days in Cupid’s head, trying to protect him, while trying to attack Michael. If I relied solely on fighting him, I usually failed. Even in a dream, Michael was far superior in skill to me.

  Then I realized I could manipulate the dream.

  Suddenly, I was creating lions, robots, and even an army to help me out. The problem was, the more I manipulated the dream, the more exhausted it made me. I would be able to gain the upper-hand, but if Michael simply resorted to distracting me – playing with me – I would grow tired and the illusions would disappear.

  The nights were spent asleep. I could barely stay awake long enough to eat a meal before crashing out on my bed. I wouldn’t wake up until the following morning. Michael was repeatedly telling me I was doing well, that I was making progress, but I was struggling to see it. Every time I left Cupid’s dream, it felt like all I had done was waste time when I could have been out on the streets, helping Veronica try to locate Joshua.

  Perhaps sensing my frustration, Michael had turned to a new tactic. Today he was hiding in Cupid’s dream, and I had to find him. At first I had thought this was just another way to distract me, then, as I was wandering the streets of ancient Rome, I realized that actually, when it came to it, this was what I would have to do in Joshua’s head.

  I wandered around, keeping my eye out for the archangel. I was walking down by the river, not far from where I had been the first night in Cupid’s dream. I wasn’t sure why I went down that way. I was certain that Michael would be hiding in the city where there were more people and buildings to get lost in. Here was quiet. There were very few people around.

  I walked under one of the bridges and spotted two men lay out on the bank, watching a family of ducks swimming on the river. One of the men was resting his head in the other’s lap, and it took me a moment to realize it was Cupid. The second man had dark hair, tanned skin, and a strong nose. He was maybe late thirties at most – not much older than the appearance of Cupid’s vessel. I stared at his manly features, trying to work out why he looked so familiar.

  My mouth dropped open.

  When Cupid had said he had set a Caesar up on a date, I hadn’t realized he had been talking about Julius Caesar! I thought it had been his brother, or someone related to him. I was certain that Julius Caesar had had an affair with Cleopatra, or she had at least been the mother of one of his children.

  Right now, it looked like Julius Caesar didn’t have a preference for either for men or women. He was currently running his hand through Cupid’s tousled hair.

  I should have walked away and left them to their private moment to continue looking for Michael, but I was curious. Cupid had never shared any details on his relationship with ‘the Caesar’, but this was the man who Cupid, two thousand years later, had never gotten over.

  Julius Caesar had also been a ruthless leader who had had no qualms about killing people.

  So how had Cupid fallen in love with someone who wasn’t the angelic definition of good? I walked a little closer and settled down behind them.

  “Must you go?” Cupid asked.

  “If you really wish for me to stay here, I will stay here with you,” Caesar told him. He brushed the hair from Cupid’s forehead and then leaned over to kiss the archangel’s temple. The kiss was tender. From here, I could see the smile on Cupid’s face. With that one look, I could tell how much Cupid cared for the Roman.

  Caesar sat back. “But I want you to stay with me too.”

  “Julius,” Cupid sighed, the smile disappearing.

  “No, Cupid,” Caesar said, shaking his head as his expression darkened. “What I ask of you is not unreasonable. I love you. You love me.”

  “And we cannot be together,” Cupid told him, sitting up.

  “But your reasoning lacks logic. You say angels and humans cannot be together because of the nephilimic consequence. Unless something has changed, that is not a possibility for us. Or are you just using this as an excuse to toy with me?”

  I frowned. There was something about Caesar’s tone I didn’t like. Honestly, it felt like he was using emotional blackmail on Cupid.

  “Please don’t be like this,” Cupid pleaded.

  “I’m like this because I love you,” Caesar responded, coolly. “All I wish is for us to be together.”

  Cupid reached over for one of Caesar’s hands, grasping it. “You are destined for great things. Things greater than me. You have the strength and the charisma to rule the world, but you cannot do that with me by your side,” the archangel told him, imploringly. “No matter how much I love you, I cannot hold you back.”

  “Has it occurred to you that you are my world?” Caesar got up, walking a few paces to the edge of the river. He stood there, staring out across the gray waters with his arms folded. “You don’t want me to leave, but you will no
t be with me? And who are you to say where I should and should not go?” Caesar demanded, turning back to Cupid. “You won’t even leave him for me.”

  “He’s my charge,” Cupid sighed. He rubbed a hand over his face before also getting to his feet. “I cannot change who my charge is. And I ask you not to go, because I have a bad feeling about you travelling the seas.”

  “How am I going to rule the world if I don’t first see it?” Caesar asked.

  “You will,” Cupid assured him. “But not this time. Please wait for the next voyage.”

  Suddenly, Caesar stepped up to Cupid, placing his hands on the archangel’s cheeks as he pulled him close. My eyes widened at the passion in the kiss. Maybe I had Caesar wrong… but Caesar had been a ruthless ruler. When the kiss started to involve tongues, and the Roman began moving his body against Cupid, I turned away. This moment was far too intimate for me to be watching.

  I left the pair, heading back in the opposite direction. I still had to find Michael. I walked back to the Forum. Even though a person dreaming could have the wildest dreams, in reality, once in one, I had discovered that there were limits to dreams. Michael was unlikely to be hiding at the edges – there was nothing there to hide behind.

  Here in the Forum, it was busy. Too busy. I made my way up some steps to a higher vantage point, and then began removing people from the dream, one by one. It was much easier to remove things than to create things. I had managed to halve the crowd when the arm slipped around my neck, a sword pointed at my eye. “Really?” I sighed, holding my hands up.

  Michael released me, and I turned to face him. “You allowed yourself to become distracted.”

  “I was looking for you,” I whined in frustration. “I was trying to narrow your location down.”

  “And in the process, gave your own away,” Michael returned. “Those people were your cover too.”

  I frowned. “Then how would you suggest I look for you? Or Lucifer?” I glanced back at the forum, then back to Michael.