by Renee Pace
Nathanael laughed. “I don’t think so.”
“And that’s your problem.” Disdain dripped from her prayer-perfect mouth.
In the glow from the streetlight, he made out a flirt of a smile as it sailed ever so briefly across her lips. Then she let loose her weapon. The six-pointed, polished-gold throwing star spun and sunk into the man who approached her with ease.
“Just stay out of my way. You are only going to get hurt more, Sere.”
Swifter than he anticipated, she doused the fallen man’s body. The man screamed; his human form dissolved into an oozy green gob of mess on the asphalt, making the alley stink of sulfur, telling Nathanael the woman had used holy water. The human had been demon-turned. How?
She somersaulted past him, the click of her heels the only warning as she used her momentum to go after the other man. Nathanael barely scooted out of her way. Another throwing star impacted the man’s large chest. Landing on both feet, she doused him with another vial of holy water while he sputtered in surprise. Nathanael knew how he felt. Women where he came from did not kill. The demon burst apart, air vaporizing into green puffs of sulfuric mist before falling to the ground. Nathanael watched in awe as she stuck her hand in the green muck to retrieve her weapon. Then she wiped it down and put it back somewhere on the back of her belt.
She then bowed her head to recite an ancient Hebrew prayer of forgiveness, forcing the green muck to further dissolve.
Nathanael carefully eased his way up to her. “Wow, and I thought I did fast prayer.”
She ignored him.
Wiping her hands on her pants, she moved to the other puddle of green slime.
“So, Cherub, to whom do I owe the pleasure of thanking?”
She turned and looked at him. For a second, something potent filled the space, which considering the reek of garbage milling around them, was miraculous.
“I am no one, Sere. But if I were you, I’d get some pants on before I leave this alley.” A real smile filled her young face. It had to be the loveliest sight Nathanael had ever witnessed.
Nathanael vehemently disagreed. There was no way she was just a nobody.
“And if I were you, Sere, I’d fly home.” Mockery and contempt met him square on.
He moved a tad closer, noting how her eyes cased him with suppressed laughter, but also reading her body language. She was like a lamb, getting ready to bolt. He cursed when she did.
One second, there.
Another, gone.
Nathanael blinked. He had hoped to talk to the Cherub but luck wasn’t on his side. At the moment the only thing clinging to him was rotten fruit.
A swirl of thick emotion surged through him. He had been saved by a Cherub angel. A teenager, like himself. He thanked the heavens none of his brothers had witnessed his ass being saved by a female. Nathanael gathered his composure. He might now be fallen, but if he had his way, that wouldn’t last for long.
Forced back to the Dumpster, he dug around until he found a worn sweater. He tugged the filthy thing over his head to cover up his robe and prayed the Seraphim safe house still existed. After the fall of Lucifer, the Council had created angel safe houses that were ruled and governed by humans wishing to serve the greater good of the Almighty. A few houses over the years had become extinct, but Boston was said to still have one. Nathanael could not fail. He had made his choice when he’d begged for exile, and now had to complete his task.
* * *
Two nights later, Nathanael felt more in control of his body and surroundings. He was armed with two small knives braced under his long-sleeved shirt and a third one tucked into his sock. They weren’t perfect. But here, he worked with what he had. Adaptation: his new word of the day.
He sauntered down the worn, crumbling steps at the back of the recreational center and caught the stench of hashish from a group of teens lingering by the side. They were careful to keep to the shadows as they enjoyed their illegal drugs. He hated the sweet stench of the drugs, but was keenly aware of the allure they offered. Since long before the demon attacks, but more so since the gates first fell, more and more angels who’d lost loved ones had turned to their own methods of escaping. A drug might have many names and come in a thousand forms but the people using were looking for the same thing—escape. Ignoring them, Nathanael opened the door and stepped inside. The symmetry of the place was like any other recreational center but there, similarities ended. Since he’d already been to about four such places in the city in two days while searching for his mate, this place with its bar-like decor and freshly painted walls gave him a measure of hope.
Two older teens with bodies all bulk and muscle moved forward.
“These are the rules. No drugs or alcohol on the premises or we’ll kick your ass out. And no fighting. Understand?”
Okay, he hadn’t expected that. And it was on the tip of his tongue to point out a group of druggies were practically camping on the doorstep, but instead, he nodded. “Got it.”
They let him pass. He made his way through the throng of teens at the center. The symphony of male colognes and female perfumes was overwhelming. How do humans handle it? Maneuvering his way through a crowd of thrashing dancers who were oblivious to the techno beat and more in tune with the light show, he made his way to what looked like a bar. At one time the mahogany wood that made up the counter had been nice, but now it was etched deeply with pits of graffiti. A dozen bottles with varying liquids the shades of copper, red, yellow, lime green, and red were neatly lined up on the backboard.
A large pink neon sign neatly placed between the middle of the bottles stated Virgin Drinks Rule!
It also looked like someone had at one time scrawled “sucks” underneath the blinking sign. Nathanael chuckled to himself. It was a prank he and his brethren would have probably pulled, and knowing that made him a bit more at ease.
So far this recreational center, located one block up from the Boston Harbor next to a stack of old, rundown warehouses, showed promise. He’d learned at the safe house that rumor had it a group of fallen angels were literally singing for their supper. At first he’d dismissed it, thinking his mate would never dare such a thing, but with little else to guide him, he’d been forced to pursue the wild tale, all the while praying with his divine heart he’d be wrong.
The stabbing colors from the light show hurt his sensitive eyes. So much color. So much of everything. Again, the thought that he was out of his element overwhelmed him. He chose his path. He’d fight for his Cherub angel and make her come back with him. After spending only forty-eight hours on Earth, Nathanael couldn’t wait to get back to the pristine, orderly world of angels where everything was preordained from birth. Status meant everything. You were born by the grace of the Almighty to be a certain type of angel, and Nathanael knew he’d been born to be a warrior, all the way.
No Cherub will stand in my path. I will ascend…or die trying.
“Can I help you?” The man behind the bar wearing a dark navy suit nailed him with a stony look. He was all business, and for a second Nathanael felt like one of his older Seraphim brothers was assessing him. The urge to shuffle his feet hit him, but he resisted, barely. Wearing casual teenage clothing had been a necessity, but the tight jeans made him conscious he was overly tall compared to most youths and much more muscular. The black dress jacket over his long-sleeved shirt he’d purchased on a whim after going to the Seraphim safe house. What he had discovered there didn’t sit well with him.
None of the Earth-bound angels wanted anything to do with the heavenly exiled Cherubs. They knew of their existence but didn’t interact with them, and that confused Nathanael.
Why would they treat them with scorn? They were females, and if Nathanael had his way, they would be protected by the Earth-born Seraphim. When he had mentioned that, the patriarch of the house had silenced him. Nathanael had wanted to argue his point but the patriarch had made it clear they had approached the fallen angels and been told to leave them alone. Why the man list
ened to them mystified Nathanael. The fallen angels needed protecting, and while he had pleaded his case late into the night, the patriarch would not budge. If the female angels needed him, they had to come to the Seraphim safe house and not the other way around. Frustrated, Nathanael had left. He felt more disgusted with his brethren than anything else. A Seraphim was a warrior, but it would appear on Earth the Earth-born angels were made up mostly of lawyers, bankers, and businessmen.
In the heavens life was simple. Seraphim angels safeguarded Cherubs. Cherubs were female and their role was to please the Seraphim. Of the same caste system, heaven was divided by the sexes and each had their preordained role. A Royal Seraphim, like his father, who held importance on the Council, were a caste above regular Seraphim. And if Nathanael had his way, that would become his life. Only one little thing stood in his way—his fallen mate. But, just like his Father, he was one determined Seraphim. He’d secure his Cherub, get her to repent for her sins, and then all would be right in his world.
Scanning the crowd, Nathanael vowed tonight to discover where his Cherub was and return with her to the heavenly realm for good. Then in a decade’s time they’d undergo the x’simcha ceremony, binding two souls together to breed future Seraphim if they were boys and future Cherubs if they were girls. Simple. They way of heaven-born angels.
“Take it you understand the rules here,” stated the man, who still eyed him suspiciously.
Nathanael nodded.
“And this is your first time in the area?”
Nathanael knew the man was fishing for information, but the last thing he wanted was conversation with another useless human. “What do you recommend for a drink?” he asked, changing the subject.
The man gave a crafty smile. “Scorched Earth.”
“What?”
“The drink Scorched Earth is what I’d recommend for you.”
Nathanael nodded, and the guy handed him a blood-colored drink, a mix of the copper liquid, some from the red, and some from a bottle the bartender had under the counter. The drink cost Nathanael six dollars. He paid for his beverage, smiled, and leaned back against the counter, taking a sip of the syrupy drink. Bitterness singed his throat and he coughed up a storm.
The man chuckled as he went on to serve another customer. Nathanael fought not to curse. Only his strict upbringing kept him from saying what he really thought of the human. Whatever was in the drink tickled his throat, but once he calmed down the warmth from the bitter liquid enveloping his belly wasn’t all that unpleasant.
The bartender rematerialized by Nathanael. “So, what brings you to these parts?”
Nosy human. “I’m looking for someone.”
“There’s lots of someone’s here. Anyone in particular? I know most of the regular kids…and some of the ones no longer allowed in here.”
“Do you run this place?” asked Nathanael, trying to get a sense if the human really could be helpful.
The human chuckled. “I guess. Most days, I feel like this place runs me. I’m either the janitor, guidance counselor, or damn accountant. This building is mine. This rec center is also mine, so if you’re looking for trouble, take it elsewhere. I’ve spent a lot of money on this place trying to make it inviting for the kids.”
“Certainly looks better than the last one I was in. All they had were rows of tables, and the kids were bored to tears playing some stupid game called Bingo,” said Nathanael. He took a cautious sip of the brew this time, not wanting to let on he hated the cursed drink.
“That would be Caldwell’s Recreational Center. The city owns that hellhole and it’s totally useless. Listen, I’ve got to chat with someone back stage but if you need another drink or want to talk later, I’ll be back.”
Nathanael just grinned. Maybe the human wasn’t all that bad.
Quiet descended over the bar the minute the shimmering lights and techno beat ceased. A hush of anticipation soared through the motley teenagers.
Nathanael felt his body gravitate toward the stage and realized he too was caught up in the crowd’s anticipation. A mass of excited people, four levels deep, stood between him and the dark backdrop. Muffled conversations and hushed whispers thickened the air. The mood in the place moved from partying delight to sweet ecstasy. The curtains swung up like a billowing cloud and there before him stood four Cherubs, their heavenly bodies on display in clothing that would make the Mistress weep. Each wore a pleated black-and-white skirt barely covering their bottoms, high-top red sneakers with black laces that traveled all the way up to the knees, and white blouses tied into halter tops that showcased more of their honey-colored, heavenly flesh.
You’re kidding me. Nathanael blinked. What were the odds the Cherub he’d been thinking about for days, the one who had saved him in the alley, would be the star of the show? Guess one hundred percent. He hoped his surprised expression didn’t make him look like an idiot, but he had to get closer. Elbowing his way forward he stood to the side of the stage.
Two members of the band had blonde hair that fell in tight ringlets to their waist, one had straight pixie-cropped white hair with red-dyed ends framing her small face, but the one center stage bore the traditional thick, straight blonde locks of a Cherub, and she was the female who had saved him in the alley. The tiny gold star embedded in her belly button winked at him. Her skin glowed like a warm candle and she, like the rest of the Cherubs, looked about seventeen. With the thick outline of black makeup around their eyes, they were a spellbinding sight.
Nathanael wasn’t sure what to think. He sort of thought the females banished would be boot ugly, and secondly crazy. That was how the rumors made them appear. Instead they were all Cherub beauty and their eyes were filled with keen intelligence.
The hush in the center grew. Nathanael became acutely aware of his own ragged breathing. He eyed the lead Cherub hoping she’d catch his look. Once again she wore skintight black pants but this time she had on black boots that went to her calves, and they looked military issue except for the silver buckles along the seams. Nathanael didn’t like how she made his heart race. He was used to being in control of his emotions, but she made him uneasy.
A bell rang, a second and third. A soft, haunting melody of a hum started, growing louder with each Cherub until the girl at center stage threw her head back and sang. The wail of the sorrow-filled song filled him with both sadness and beauty.
Nathanael felt the power of her song realizing it stroked each person’s soul. She was allowing the purity of her voice to work its magic, easing all of their anxiety, allowing them in this moment to let their heart truly love.
Every cell in Nathanael’s Seraphim body recognized the song. He’d heard it sung by other Cherubs growing up but never had it sounded so good. He enjoyed the foreign words she sung. Ancient Hebrew, the cadence rolled off her tongue like the taste of heavenly red wine. Her words caused the fine hairs on his skin to rise with pleasure. If he’d had his wings, they’d be arched back, proudly displayed. Shaking his head, Nathanael forced his body to cool, taking another dreaded sip of his drink, wanting the bitter tang, anything to force his mind to heel from the fantasy he was envisioning. He wasn’t a youngling but he wasn’t entirely in control of his body either and he didn’t like that. When the remaining Cherubs threw their voices into the melody of the song, a flood of such intense love slammed into him, he felt like he’d had one too many urdal—the blessed seeds from the heavenly plant many Seraphim chewed to experience a more divine holy prayer.
Nathanael worked his way through the crowd. He shouldered some stupid humans out of the way, glaring at them if they dared look at him. At the stage door, where the lighting dimmed, keeping him more in the shadow, he enjoyed the music more. A total of four more songs followed.
By the end of their first set, his breathing was labored, his heart pounded loudly in his chest, and his palms were sweaty.
He moved from the wall to flex his muscles. A part of him was angry. However, he wasn’t sure if that emotion was direc
ted at himself or the girls on stage.
What he’d witnessed felt sacrilegious, and it burned through him. He prayed that tonight he’d be back in heaven’s realm, mission accomplished with his future heavenly wife in tow. The minute he found her, he’d call to the Mistress and as promised, she’d let them back into the heavenly realm once his Cherub agreed to the wedding. Then he’d repent for the impurity of his thoughts. Again he shifted, wishing his jeans weren’t so tight as he tried to calm his emotions.
He prayed one of these Cherubs wasn’t Isabella. He didn’t want her to be openly displaying her body or voice for mankind. Cherub angels were purity. They exemplified all the heavenly descriptions of what that word entailed.
Marching toward the back of the stage, he wondered why no one stopped him. Cherub angels were never unescorted in the heavens, yet here on Earth, they walked about alone, vulnerable.
A sharp steel blade cut into his throat, catching him off guard.
“Well, what do we have here? Why, I do believe it’s a Seraphim and just my luck, the one I saved from the alley the other night. To whom do we have the pleasure of addressing?”
Blood slid down his throat as the metal scraped across his neck, causing Nathanael to attempt to move back. The blade cut more into his flesh—the Cherub with the sharp knife wouldn’t think twice about ending his existence. Casting aside his anger and stupidity, he realized he was intrigued by these Cherub girls with their macho-Sera attitudes.
“I am Nathanael, First Born of the House of Raphael.”
A gasp stole through the other three angels…but not the one controlling the knife.
“Why, Sere, are you here on Earth?”
Contempt and hatred spilled from the voice, which only moments before had had him almost on his knees with a longing he didn’t want to examine too closely.
“I am here to find Isabella and bring her home,” he said.
“Why?” the leader asked.
