Trouble with Angels

by S E Holmes

The pyrotechnics of Zeus’s displeasure did not eventuate. Instead, the Cherubs were treated to a long and incredibly dull meeting during which various Elders rambled, blaming, accusing and attempting to distance themselves from culpability. Aside from occasional heated denials, the mood was sombre. Nimbus had snuck in unseen as arrangements were underway and returned the Book of Lore to the Pedestal.

  The Ethereal Realm had been put right in an iota and the gathering proceeded in the newly rectified Chamber of Greats. Long tables were arrayed in a square horseshoe, facing the topmost bench where the Most High from both realms assembled, elevated above the rest. The Chair of Forgetfulness was positioned in front; a clear souvenir of foul play. Not formally inducted into the Council, Nimbus, Celestial, Jam and Ram were perched on a pew against the wall behind the Most High. Ram fidgeted angrily, regularly shooting mutinous glares at Jam.

  Hades currently held the floor, indignantly blustering he had no direct responsibility for Bloodar members. He stiffly paced the middle. “I fail to grasp how I could possibly be held accountable for the actions of one not under my command!”

  Zeus, whose head rested on his hand, propped up by an elbow on the table, stirred. “It is clear you have failed to grasp a lot of things my crafty colleague,” he responded mildly

  “OH!” Hades retorted hotly. “That is the pear calling the pomegranate fruit! Where were you when the Chosen were in mortal peril? Basking willingly in the quality of my hospitality, that’s where!”

  Bacchus leapt up and slammed his fist down onto the marble, theatrically throwing Celestial and Nimbus a sympathetic look. “Damned luxuriating-leopard officials! Any opportunity for a free junket at the expense of a cherished underling!”

  The gist was clear: Bacchus alone had heroically defended the Cherubs while everyone else swanned about sipping ambrosia and supping on venison. The impact of his dramatic outburst was somewhat lessened by the fact for most of proceedings, he’d snoozed next to Zeus in a pool of his own spit. The head of the Gods raised an eyebrow in Bacchus’s direction, demonstrating his good-humoured objection to the insult. Mercury glowered sourly in the background, having not yet forgiven his erstwhile friend’s Wand theft and the demolition of his humble abode.

  Gabriel, who rarely spoke and was given undivided attention when he did, rolled his eyes to the heavens. “Gentlemen, please sit. Discord is the servant of adversity. Bacchus, had you not been carousing to the zenith and thus indisposed, you too would readily have deserted your charges.”

  Bacchus conceded with a disappointed nod and slouched sullenly onto his stool. Where was the praise he so rightly deserved? The perks of this job were becoming less alluring by the drop of sand in the hourglass.

  Gabriel continued. “Recriminations are pointless. We must be like Janus the two-faced and look backward in order to see forward. Recent events have clouded the future and warrant scrutiny. Raphael, Michael and Uriel are at present one with the Essential Tapestry and ponder this new meaning. They will make full report soon, but first we must hear Bloodar Aimrod’s account. I feel it will be most germane.” Gabriel stared pointedly at the Dark Angel.

  Nimbus shifted uncomfortably. He suspected that with the imminent arrival of more of his Divine Superiors he would unwittingly become the focus of the conversation.

  Heads swivelled in Aimrod’s direction. As punishment for the assault on Bacchus, he was seated with minor representatives at the back of the hall, his usual place at the forefront left vacant. His war spikes and fangs were long since retracted and he was again hidden by the shrouds of his volumous cassock.

  Beside him drooped an unkempt Rhadamanthys, barely recovered from his humiliating ordeal at the talons of Hades’ pet dragons. Aimrod slowly raised himself and made his way with belaboured dignity to the centre of the vast room. He removed his hood and addressed Gabriel, occasionally gazing in Nimbus and Jam’s direction.

  He spoke with barely repressed contempt. “Azazel acted on his own --”

  “That’s a lie!” Bacchus erupted, again jumping to his feet. A murmur of assent rippled through those from the Ethereal Realm.

  “Please, Bacchus,” Zeus’s wife Hera interjected gently. “We know well the role you played and you will be justly rewarded, but due process must be observed. Each party deserves the right to speak uninterrupted in their own defence.”

  Bacchus gave Aimrod a murderous glance and sat. Aimrod benignly inspected his fingernails. “I am unconcerned by others’ disbelief of my account, as it is the truth. I was unaware of Azazel’s plot and can only speculate that his inferiors were bewitched into doing his bidding and deceiving me.”

  “Do you have any explanation as to how one of Azazel’s low rank, broached the Pedestal and read the forbidden passage from the Book of Lore? He would have required great magic indeed to promote himself to the Essential Echelon. A level it must be said, you have achieved Supreme Bloodar Aimrod,” declared Ra.

  It was the duty of the Most High to select members accomplished enough to be welcomed into the Circle of Full Knowledge. They determined who was permitted to study or read from the Book’s complete writings. Elders could only transfer this power with extreme discretion.

  “I resent the insinuation, Ra. If you are making an accusation have out with it and it will be addressed. Of course, you would need to present hard evidence before sullying my name with idle speculation. We have only to visit the Seventh Circle to discern what happens to those who indulge in slanderous gossip!”

  “Are you threatening me?” Ra stood, appalled.

  “Merely elaborating the requirements for due process,” Aimrod responded snidely.

  “Clearly, a thorough investigation will be undertaken. Please be seated, Aimrod. Ra, you will have your apology when the moment is less heated, but not now. I believe, the Sacred arrive. Thank you for your tolerance,” Gabriel appeased.

  Ra nodded crossly and sat. Nimbus desperately wished that he could leave. His anxiety did back-flips in his stomach. The tension in the room ratcheted up, all expectantly turned towards the Chamber entrance. Even Bacchus was fully awake and alert.

  Eventually, the Chamber doors swept open and three austere Angels paraded in, single file. Uriel took the lead. The only female in the group, she spent most of her time communing with the sun and stars and was rarely to be seen in Corporeal Form. She had a diaphanous air about her, as though permanently bathed in the brilliance of a super-nova, her glowing aura briefly lighting the visages of all she passed.

  Michael and Raphael followed, sheathed in long simple gowns, their feet barely touching the floor, grave expressions on their striking faces. Gabriel came down to meet them, pressing his forehead to Uriel’s in a wordless transfer of knowledge. The new arrivals took positions behind the Most High with the Cherubs. Uriel’s golden eyes found Nimbus and she gave him a beatific smile, soothing his unease. He return a forlorn smile. Jam’s mouth dropped in awe at the sight of her.

  “We must adjourn the Council and confer in private,” Gabriel announced with a perplexed frown. “You will be summoned on the outcome. May good fortune be your guardian.”

  This abrupt end was met with general outrage and shouts of dissent, but the Angels had already shed their physical manifestations and began departing for their haven, Sanctuarae Tranquilatum.

  “Is that it? Is it over?” Celestial uttered in Nimbus’s ear.

  Nimbus shrugged, determining immediately it was not over for him. Gabriel, who was the last to disappear, beckoned he follow.

  “Nimbus! Where are you going?” Celestial’s question hung unanswered in the empty space where he had been.

  Some time later, Nimbus was spread-eagled on his back on the rooftop of the very same apartment block of four days previous. He stared up at the evening sky with its smattering of feeble stars. They lost the battle against the saturation of the city’s artificial light. He’d spent a listless afternoon observing the clumsy courtship of a couple of amorous teenagers. Nimbus gave-up his surveillan
ce when they’d advanced to fondling beneath the romantic corona of the streetlamp. They did not need his help, it unfolded without the unleashing of a single arrow.

  Nimbus was not exactly enjoying his segregation, but it was preferable to being on the Ethereal Realm, where Celestial hounded him with questions and Bacchus had promoted the Cherubs to the role of Events Coordinators. In reality, it meant their Guardian was free to cruise in his golden chariot like some super-celebrity, prominently displaying the Horn of the Host and stopping often to impart the thrilling tale of his heroics. He basked in lavish praise and graciously received numerous gifts, while the Cherubs dashed about planning the homecoming reception of the century. Nimbus did not even feel guilty he’d deserted Celestial to the task. Together she and Jam made an insufferably efficient pair.

  Not to mention it was difficult to look at Celestial without being overcome by mirth, even in Nimbus’s current depressed state. She insisted on constantly wearing the ridiculous hat Jam had shyly presented her. She blinked copiously to remove the frost from her eyelashes (her eyelids iced shut at one point, and she’d almost tripped into Jupiter’s spittoon). If she stood in one spot too long, snow drifts developed.

  Less amusing, the silver pixies had taken an instant dislike to Nimbus and hurled spells at him whenever he got within range. In a particularly humiliating episode, the little wretches had stripped him of his robe in the main avenue, as one of Bacchus’s adoring audiences gathered, which unfortunately included the River Nymphs. Nimbus fronted the crowd wearing only Skylar’s pendant.

  “Oooh, nice dangler!” called a nymph coquettishly.

  “Magic happens if you rub it!” grinned another.

  “Never fear lad, I’m often caught with my toga down!” Bacchus chuckled unhelpfully. “No lasting harm done.”

  In a bid to rescue Nimbus from the taunts and more pressingly, save a blushing and mortified Celestial, Jam provided a tiny pair of black leather shorts. In hindsight, staying nude would have been smarter. The new attire provoked exuberant laughter and shouts of “Hail Spartan!” Since, the Nymphs made sly remarks about his dagger at every opportunity.

  Nimbus sighed. Maybe if he showed them his real sword. The one Gabriel had nobly bestowed upon him as his Instrument of Influence that afternoon. But no, Nimbus did not even want to touch it and had hidden it in the deepest recesses of his meditation space.

  The Seraphim were obviously disturbed he had progressed to such heights so suddenly. Nevertheless, it was an event that demanded certain protocol and they were bound by the traditions. So, he had received his Instrument of Influence with no fanfare and even less pride. He was terrified to discover it was the same ornate emerald-and-pearl-encrusted sword he held aloft in his most awful vision. It was finely wrought from Orichalcum, the supernatural Atlantean metal.

  “There you are! Celestial sent me to see if you are alright.” Jam appeared next to him, interrupting his thoughts.

  “I was until you arrived,” Nimbus said, regretting the words as soon as they’d escaped his mouth. Jam was eternally grateful Nimbus fought Azazel for him and tried unsuccessfully, on many occasions, to ease Nimbus’s apparent unhappiness. Jam was extremely perceptive and could detect the pain of those around him. “Sorry! I didn’t mean that.”

  Jam said nothing for the longest while. He simply lay himself down next to Nimbus and stared up into the night. Eventually, he spoke.

  “Bacchus collapsed a moment ago and had to be sent to the healers. It seems Buttercup bit him on the thigh with her tail to counteract the witches’ poison. Gabriel cured him of the Lamia, not the viper-venom, which started to work on his flesh. He will be okay,” Jam added hastily. “Zeus temporarily banned him from receiving guests, proclaiming that too much attention is detrimental to anyone. Even Bacchus.” Jam continued without prompting from Nimbus, who was so listless, he could have been a corpse.

  “Buttercup, is unmanageable. Hades made petition for a replacement, claiming his foremost fortification has been enduringly spoiled and is now a useless booze-hound. The Underworld remains unguarded and has been inundated by pesky adventurers, determined to follow in the foolish footsteps of past pilgrims. Seems there is a new magical pear tree at the entrance that allows immunity on Perdition Road.

  “Kharon is on strike. His ferry was overloaded by tourists to the point where it sank in the middle of the lake. The carnivorous fish had a feast before Hades could send his water-dragons to retrieve what was left of the survivors. His Warrior Warthogs are out on unanimous stress-leave, alleging combating Ghostly Polar Bears is not in their job description and Aiakos the Keeper of the Keys is missing.

  “Several of the more entrepreneurial Imps are sporting thick gold chains and loud Hawaiian shirts in exchange for their work as guides for the Americans! Hades is complaining that Bacchus has ruined the Dolorous Realm and must be extradited to face punishment. He’s demanding compensation or he reckons he will move his entire flock upstairs until things are put right.”

  “Hmph!” Nimbus grunted noncommittally. “That’d put a dent in Bacchus’s big fat head!” They lapsed into silence.

  “Nimbus, do you know how Fledgling Dark Angels come to be?” Jam inquired, after an extended pause.

  Nimbus blinked in surprise. He had not given the matter much thought before, but had to admit it was an intriguing question. He shook his head.

  “Whenever meanness, corruption and hate rule the human world, when selfishness, intolerance and greed reign, the Bloodar draw on that imbalance to bring us into being. It is a very complex and taxing ritual and cannot be performed more than limited times over a specified epoch, but things have been so bad on the Material Realm for so long, Ram and I unexpectedly achieved genesis together. He is my brother in time as we share the same moment of origin, just as you and Celestial do.” Nimbus concentrated on Jam’s words; they seemed of critical importance to him, but he could not guess why. “We are now four to your two.”

  Nimbus sat up. “There are two more of you?”

  Jam also sat and nodded. “Ram and I are the younger of the quartet. At first the Bloodar, although overjoyed at their unbelievable success in such a short period, were unsure of our purpose. They assigned each of us to one of the other Fledglings to nurture our powers and for tuition in the ways of our Order. Meanwhile, they consulted the soothsayers, poured over the ancient texts and brooded on this deepest of mysteries. For eons we were left to our own devices, under the vigilant control of the older Fledglings. Until the Chosen came into being.” Jam looked at Nimbus.

  “Us? Me and Celestial?”

  “Aimrod immediately understood the significance. My teacher and I were selected as your clandestine watchers. I have observed Celestial closely since her inception.”

  “It was not my hex that made you care for her, was it?”

  He shook his head. “It is the job of the Dark Angels to recognise those of pure heart, who may prove incorruptible, for their downfall is our highest prize. Celestial’s integrity is unmatched and she will never bend her will to the side of evil. I very much admire her unwavering strength. She will not diverge from the path of righteousness no matter the temptation or pain.”

  Nimbus was almost too afraid to ask. “What about me, Jam? What do you see when you look into my psyche?”

  Jam gazed at him and with great sadness. “Only my teacher can tell you. She is your Mirror. But know this Nimbus and be warned! Her name is Rhapsody and she is the most potent enchantress of our realm. Her language mesmerises and none are immune.

  “The Bloodar had her imprisoned as her powers outgrew even theirs. She is capricious and mischievous and very, very dangerous. You approach her at your peril! I perceive the burgeoning conflict in you, Nimbus. You are changed and I cannot foresee which direction you take. If it be towards her, failure and chaos will plague your wake.”

  “I am one of the Chosen! Our purpose is undeniable!” Nimbus shouted, to himself as much as to this impudent upstart. Who was J
am to tell him where he was headed? He wore leather pants for Adonis’ sake! Surely he did not mean to be taken seriously?

  Jam frowned. “Do you not remember? It is by your deeds that you are revealed, Nimbus. Not by your title!”

  Nimbus fell into moody sulk. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I have seen your sword. I came to find you when you first returned from your time with the Divine. I saw you hide it. Rhapsody spoke of the sword with the green stones often. She claims the one who will save her bears it.”

  “Does Celestial know?” Nimbus murmured, his mind conflicted.

  “It is not for me to tell of other’s secrets.”

  Nimbus slumped over, bereft of optimism. “Thank you. If you’ll be kind enough to leave me. Please, Jam.”

  “No. It serves nothing to stay here obsessing. Come with me to the celebrations. I believe Huitaca is still sober enough to perform excellent tricks with astral dust! Celestial has cooked your favourite vanilla and olive cakes and she is still wearing Skylar’s bonnet, which is most amusing,” he winked.

  “I’m not really up for a party.”

  Jam regarded him. “You live in a Realm where laughter does not occur to schedule. Do not take that for granted, Nimbus.”

  “How do you schedule laughter?”

  “A gong sounds on Sundays and Hades steps to the podium for a minute of joke-telling.”

  “Is he funny?”

  “Not in the least.”

  Nimbus laughed. “Fine. You win.”

  “Do not fret. I sprinkled the hat with midget sprites, the sworn enemies of pixies. They are too busy waging war against each other to bother with you. Of course,” Jam added sheepishly, “Celestial is rather disappointed I have seen fit to present her with such a violent hat, but she excused this lapse of judgement in light of my disadvantaged background and my improvements in personal hygiene.”

  ***

  Chapter Seventeen

  Perdition Road is Paved with Good Intentions