"Welcome home," Jezebel said with a beaming smile. "How did your mission go?"
As a rule, angels didn't lie. They were often forced to when dealing with humans, but in interactions with other angels, it was impossible to hide the truth. Yet another thing Dury hated now. How could he explain his feelings for two humans, and two males at that?
"It didn't go well," he replied.
The thought of lying reminded Dury of his time with Luc and everything he'd said and done to make the other man believe in him. How could Luc love him? Dury had gone so far in his deception, even taking on the role of a so-called "plot-bunny". He comforted himself with the thought that in a way, he had been one. He'd kick-started the writer's talent, after all. But could that justify everything he'd done? Dury didn't know.
Dury tried to push the thoughts aside, knowing his mother could read him like an open book. Predictably, Jezebel's smile faded. "Come inside," she offered. "You need to get some rest. You're not used to being away from home."
Dury nodded miserably. She was right. Death Angels didn't spend that much time on the mortal plane. Their tasks were pretty much straightforward and easy to complete: collect the souls of the dying. The only missions that lasted longer were during wars, when they were often forced to collect more than one soul at the same time. A grueling, awful charge, Dury remembered, but one he'd accepted and been successful in.
What would his father tell him? How would his mother react? Worse yet, what fate would He decide for Dury? The Almighty had trusted Dury with an important task. The realization of the disappointment he'd caused made Dury feel even worse. Then again, why had he been chosen in the first place? God could see into the souls of everyone, including His angels. Had He known about Dury's future? If so, what did that mean?
He followed after Jezebel, lost in his glum musings. As they entered their home, Dury realized in awe that his father stood in the middle of the foyer, waiting for them.
"What? How? When did you get here?" he blurted out without thinking.
"Just a few minutes ago," his father replied, sighing. "Did you tell your mother what happened?"
Dury shook his head, frozen. He'd been hoping to delay things as much as possible, but obviously, he wouldn't be given that opportunity. "Go on," his father said softly. "Tell us."
"I… I fell in love with the humans." His mother's eyes widened and she gasped. Dury looked down, knowing how much he'd disappointed her. "I had carnal urges and lost myself to them."
He swallowed around the sudden knot in his throat, remembering Luc's kisses, Simon's taste in his mouth. He regretted it, oh how he regretted it, but not because of what would happen to him. He was afraid that in giving his humans a touch of his affection, he'd rendered them unable to find happiness on the mortal plane. Sometimes, it happened. Humans were literally touched by angels and could no longer live their normal lives to the fullest. Some lost their minds altogether. Dury shuddered at the thought of something like that happening to Luc and Simon.
Taking a deep breath, he looked back at his father, "Please. Isn't there anything you can do?"
His father knew what he meant, of course. Dury would never beg for himself. Such a thing was unheard of among angels. They accepted all punishments and decrees with stoicism, even if it took a lot out of them to do so. In the end, though, it always worked out. God protected them. Dury clung to that faith, hoping the Almighty would be able to solve this unsolvable situation.
To Dury's surprise, Michael wrapped him in a strong hug. "It's all right, Duriel. Everything is going to be all right."
Dury allowed himself to lean against his father, finding refuge in Michael's kind strength. In moments like these, he realized he was still such a child, so unprepared to deal with what went on in the real world, with the responsibilities his position required. And now, Dury yet again failed in being an angel, by caring about his humans, the humans he loved.
"Go on," Michael whispered. "Go to your room and rest."
As his father broke the embrace, Dury nodded wordlessly. He obeyed and flew through the house up to his bedroom. Their homes weren't built out of solid material. Here, everything was ethereal, including the walls, the gates, the people themselves. But the power of the heavens held it all together, creating a magical place, a refuge where only angels could live.
How could he have been so stupid? He knew angels could not stay long among mortals. Their bodies on their world were mere manifestations of their spirit, a shell they used, but that could not withstand the pressure of real life for too long. Archangels like his father were used to it, but not so with Dury. His power had itched to get away, to be unleashed from its prison of flesh. Perhaps that was why he'd rushed through the whole thing like that.
Dury sighed as he entered his room. He collapsed on the wisp of cloud that served as his bed. What did Simon and Luc think of him now?
* * * *
Dury soon found he could not forget his time with Simon and Luc. If anything, the memories seemed to grow stronger with his every breath. He tried to rest like his father advised, but sleep simply didn't come.
The horrid thing was that he had no idea how much time passed on the mortal plane. Such a thing usually held no meaning for angels, and sometimes, the years flashed them by in what seemed like a second for Dury. The opposite could also happen, and Dury's centuries could turn into a day or less for humans. It had never been important, not until now. Now, Dury was tormented by the thought of not knowing what had come of his two lovers.
The ever present pain had an effect Dury did not expect. As beings of the spirit, they could not get sick or die. They could only get hurt when in the mortal realm, and even if their bodies were destroyed there, they'd just reform once again. But there was one thing that could harm them.
Dury felt the emotional pain as physical, and as much as he tried to fight it, he could not push it back. Soon, he couldn't even move anymore, and his wings could no longer hold him aloft, weak and powerless. In his parents' eyes, for the first time in all his life, he saw terror.
And then came the first time his parents argued. Through the wispy walls, Dury heard almost everything.
"I did not agree to this," his mother was saying.
"The Lord's Will is beyond our comprehension. We just have to trust Him and it will be all right."
"I know that, Michael, but Dury is my child. He is suffering. Please… won't you speak to Him? He listens to you."
"Jezebel… believe me, I've tried. At this point, it's out of my hands. We can only hope the humans love Dury enough."
What in the world was that supposed to mean? Sometimes, Dury really hated the Lord's mysterious ways. But at least if his father was referring to the humans, it meant Simon and Luc were still alive.
He didn't know how long he waited for them to continue the conversation, to give him any clue as to what was happening. Finally, his mother flew inside, her eyes gentle and sad.
"Hello, Duriel. How are you feeling today?"
Dury struggled to offer her a smile, but didn't reply. He'd have said 'fine', but that would have been a lie. So he stuck with asking, "What does Father intend to do?"
Jezebel gave him a quizzical look, then sighed. From her long, white coat, she retrieved a crystal bowl. Dury's eyes widened as she placed it on the bed cloud and waved her hand. A film of water appeared inside, forming a mirror-like image. "You can see for yourself."
Dury stared into the bowl and realized he was seeing the church, the same church where he'd basically died as a human. Luc and Simon knelt on the floor, praying in deep concentration. Dury took a deep breath and focused on the image. What were Simon and Luc praying for? "Please, God, give Dury back to us," he heard. "We'd do anything. Please."
At that, Dury lost focus, and Simon and Luc's voices faded. "How much time passed?" he asked his mother.
"Six months," Jezebel replied.
Six months and they were still pining for him? Their attachment wouldn't fade easily. Not good
. "Mother… please, won't you do something?"
"Pay attention, Duriel," Jezebel said.
Dury turned his eyes on the crystal bowl once more. He saw a flash of bright light illuminate the church and then his father appeared in front and Luc and Simon in all of his archangel glory. The two humans shielded their eyes, obviously taken aback.
"So you want Duriel back?" he boomed. It wasn't even a way to intimidate, Dury knew. Archangels were by nature so much greater and more powerful than humans that lowering themselves to that level took a bit of time.
Luc blinked owlishly, but Simon seemed to realize who stood before them. "Father Michael?" he asked. "Oh wait… I forgot. Archangel Michael."
"Quite so, Simon," Michael replied. "I am here to listen to you. This is your chance."
Dury held his breath as he watched his father talk to his two lovers. What did Michael mean by that? Would he make Simon and Luc forget about Dury? If so, why hadn't he done it until now?
"You know we love him," Luc said. "What do we have to do to get him back?"
"Returning to the way you were cannot be," Michael answered. "Duriel is above all else, an angel. He cannot exist on the mortal plane like you do."
"Then how?" Simon asked, voice desperate. "Tell us. Is there another way?"
Michael scrutinized them both with piercing dark eyes. "There is. But you must think hard before you take this decision."
"Anything," Luc said, bowing his head. "Please."
"Don't say 'anything' so easily," Michael replied. "Now listen closely. You each were given a special talent, a beautiful skill you have used to make others happy."
The two nodded, obviously not sure where Michael was going with this. "That talent," Michael continued, "is a gift from the heavens, a small spark of divinity in a way."
Dury started to tremble as understanding started to dawn. "And we truly appreciate it," Luc replied. "Do we have to give it back?" he asked hesitantly. "Is that the price?"
"Would you do it?" Michael shot back. "Would you give up your talents for Dury?"
For a few moments, Simon and Luc stared at each other. Then Simon spoke up, "Dury taught us something. He taught us that without love, without emotion, talent is meaningless. We'd do it for him."
Dury burst into tears. He knew how much Simon and Luc loved their art. To think they would give it all up just to be with Dury… He held his chest, too overwhelmed with emotion to think.
"You would squander the talent given to you by God on an illusion?" Michael boomed.
Even up in the heavens, Dury felt the crackle of power from his father. But Simon and Luc did not falter. "Explain to me how this would be squandering," Luc said calmly. "It is merely an exchange. One gift, for another. Both are priceless, but one has more value to us than the other. It's as easy as that."
Michael shook his head. "You humans have a skewed logic." Frowning at the two men, he said, "At any rate, that's not what I intended to ask you. Even if you did give up your talents, it would mean nothing. Duriel could still not come here. The only way is for you to go to him."
At that, Simon and Luc gaped. "But h-how?" Luc stammered. "It's not like we can just fly to your world, or wherever it is that you come from."
"Like I said, you have a little piece of heaven inside you," Michael replied. "That will grant you entrance to my realm. As to how… You would have to give up your life as a human. From there, I will lead you to the skies."
Dury cried out at his father's reply. No, no, no, no. Don't do it. Don't do it. It will never work. Please, live your lives. He reached out into the bowl, trying to touch Simon and Luc, but his hand just passed through the image, blurring it and disturbing the water with no effect.
"Duriel!" his mother said, alarmed. "Calm down or I'll take the crystal from you."
Tears flowed down Dury's cheeks, evaporating before they could hit his white clothing. "But, Mother… they will kill themselves for me. It's wrong."
"What will be, will be," Jezebel said.
Simon looked strangely composed when he said, "You mean we'd have to die."
"For all accounts of the word, yes," Michael answered, "although it would be more like passing to a different sort of existence."
In that moment, Dury understood. He hadn't been chosen to unite Simon and Luc's lives in spite of being a Death Angel, but because of it. He'd inadvertently brought death upon his two humans.
"No," he cried. "No! Please, no!"
But they didn't hear him. "If we did that, we'd be with Dury?" Luc asked.
"That, I don't know," Michael replied. The two humans gaped at him, and Michael continued, "Your gifts can take you there. You'll be able to see Duriel, but I have no way of knowing if you'll be allowed to stay or not." His voice lowered, and the light in the church started to dwindle. "That depends on your souls, and on the Lord's decision."
Dury watched as his two lovers got up. "And if He decides we're not good enough?" Luc asked.
"Fire and brimstone," Michael said simply.
"That sucks," Luc muttered.
Dury knew better than to believe it would be so easy. Humans didn't just turn into angels. It was impossible. He didn't understand why his father was doing this, why Dury had been used like this. He'd never experienced such a feeling in his life. Could this be his punishment for not being a good angel?
Desperate, he lunged out of his wispy bed, knowing he needed to get to Luc and Simon before something irremediable happened. But his wings wouldn't obey him and he fell. His mother caught him and gently placed him back on his bed cloud. Strangely, there was blood dripping out of his nose. Blood of all things. Why?
"Duriel, love," Jezebel said. "You can't leave. You're starting to fade."
"I… I don't understand," Dury said. Why was this happening to him?
"Your emotions are too intense for the spirit of an angel to take in. You'll burn out."
Dury had never heard of anything like that.
"Have faith," she said. "It'll be fine. You'll see. God is with us."
Dury took a deep breath and nodded. His hands trembled as he picked up the crystal bowl and looked inside once more. Much to his despair, he saw Simon nod. "I understand. We will say our goodbyes, then call on you once again."
"It is entirely your choice," Michael stressed. "If you decide not to do it in the end, no one will blame you."
Luc and Simon gave Michael twin dark looks, and Dury knew his lovers would go through with this. The only possible way to change their mind was for him to go to them. Taking into account his mother's words, though, he might not even withstand the trip to the mortal realm.
"Perhaps it would be better if I died," he muttered to himself. "That way, no one would have to suffer."
A powerful slap collided with his cheek. Dury looked up at his mother in shock. In all his years, Jezebel had never slapped him once, or spoken to him in anger. Her reprimands were always stern, but gentle. "How dare you?" she said, eyes flashing. "How dare you say such things? Your life and your spirit are the greatest gift of all, and you want to throw them away?"
"But Mother," Dury protested, "Simon and Luc will die. I have to do something."
"You should trust them more, Duriel," a male voice said. Dury looked toward the door and realized that at some point, his father had entered the room. When had he left the mortal realm? Dury felt so confused, so hurt and ashamed that he didn't understand anything anymore. "They really do love you," Michael said. "Just have faith."
Dury nodded, struggling to cling to his father's words and the light in his heart. It was so hard. He needed to believe the Almighty wouldn't abandon him. Everything had a purpose. There must be some sort of reason why Luc and Simon had been chosen to die.
A tremor passed through Dury at the thought, and he fell back on the bed-cloud.
"Do you think God is testing me?" he asked slowly.
Jezebel held him close, gently caressing his hair. "Maybe," she whispered. "Maybe He is testing all of us. It'll be all ri
ght."
Dury had lost count of how many times he'd heard those words since coming back from the mortal realm. He reached for the crystal once again, frowning when he realized it was dark.
"Can't I see them again?" he asked his father.
Michael shook his head. "Later. Now you need to get some rest."
Dury very much doubted he could even think about resting. He'd never hurt so much, not even in those terrible moments when he'd been sent to collect the souls of young children. Was he evil because of it? No, that couldn't be it. He refused to believe that. Above all else, God meant love. His parents were right. He needed to have faith.
That didn't make things any easier, though. It was weird. His mother's and father's presence suddenly felt oppressive and he wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Even if he did trust, even if he did understand, he still hurt inside. The knowledge of what Luc and Simon would have to give up simply tore him apart.
He knew how much Simon loved his sister and her children, and how much Luc wanted his parents to accept him. They'd just recently gotten together once again. How could they risk all that, just for him?
"Come, Jezebel," Michael urged gently. "We should leave Duriel to his thoughts."
His mother reluctantly obeyed and they exited Dury's room together. Dury knew, though, that this was only an illusion of privacy. His father would be ever watchful. Given the state of Dury's health, neither of them could take any chances.
And so, Dury was left alone, just laying there on his once comfortable bed, in a home that had become little more than a gilded cage. He hated thinking these things, hated it with a passion, but he couldn't help himself. He felt feverish and cold and he wrapped his wings around himself, trying to find some sort of protection against what ailed him. If he died, Luc and Simon's sacrifice would be in vain. He clung onto that thought, remembering his lovers, remembering the way they'd kiss him or hold him.
* *
The Past
"How did it go today?" Dury asked as he entered the room.
The Plot Bunny Page 9
