by Amy Sumida
“Ain't that the truth,” I muttered.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“It's done,” Odin came down the tower stairs, strode into the bedroom, and laid a shiny silver plate down in my lap.
“This is the Sam tracker?” I asked as I turned off the latest episode of iZombie. “A plate?”
“That's it,” Odin nodded and plopped down into an armchair with an exhausted air.
“How do you turn it on?” Trevor, who had an arm around my shoulders, leaned in and tapped the center experimentally.
The plate rippled like the surface of a pond and our hazy faces washed away, replaced by a smooth walnut-colored butt moving rapidly between a pair of pale thighs.
“Oh my damn!” I pushed the plate off my lap like it was a snake before I could get a glimpse of Sam's anaconda.
“Hold on now,” Trevor chuckled and picked the plate up. “I don't think I got a close enough look at that.”
“Trevor!” I snatched the plate from him. “We didn't do this to become peepers.”
“You didn't,” he laughed and made a grab for the plate.
“Vhat's going on?” Kirill asked as he came into the room from the bathroom, rubbing at his long, dark hair with a towel.
“Trevor is spying on Sam and Brigitte while they have sex,” I tattled. “Come here, honey. I'll help you with your hair.”
Kirill smiled and sat down on the carpet in front of me. The towel around his lap gaped as he crossed his legs Indian style.
“Whoa, watch it,” Odin held up a hand to block the view. “I am not interested in peeping of any kind.”
“Sorry,” Kirill drew the towel closed as he handed me the one for his hair. “But you didn't have to look.”
“I do,” Trevor once more tried for the plate and successfully grabbed it from my hands. “It's an immoral imperative. Wow,” he leaned away from me and cocked his head at the plate. “I didn't know you could... oh okay... um,” he cleared his throat and laid the plate down over his crotch. “Minn Elska, how would you like to take a bath with me?”
“Trevor, I'm not having sex with you because you got yourself worked up from watching Sam and Brigitte,” I huffed.
“Why not? What does it matter where I work up my appetite, as long as I eat at home?”
“Valid,” Kirill held up his fist for a bump from Trevor.
“You shouldn't have even been watching them, it's so rude,” I growled.
“The purpose of the plate is to watch them,” Trevor rolled his eyes.
“You said zey had sex in front of everyone,” Kirill looked up at me. “I don't zink zey vould care if Trevor vatched. Zey'd probably like it.”
“Thanks, man,” Trevor gave Kirill one of those chin-lift nods that men do.
“But watching them have sex when you're spying on them, takes it from prudence to perversion,” Odin shook his head at Trevor.
“Hey,” Trevor stood and the plate fell, revealing an impressive bulge. “I'm a man and we're visually stimulated. It's perfectly natural for me to be turned on by watching people have sex. Pan makes a living off that very thing.”
“Pan makes a living from you watching people have sex?” Odin asked dryly and we all chuckled.
“Oh come on,” Trevor huffed. “We do it all the time with each other.”
“We are in a polyamorous marriage,” Odin shrugged. “What we do together is beautiful and I'll even grant you that there's nothing wrong with watching some pornography but those are gods we're spying on,” Odin pointed to the plate. “And whether they have sex in public or not is not the issue. They don't know we're watching, so it's a bit dishonorable.”
“And there's the Allfather,” Trevor huffed. “Whatever. That was hot and if my wife isn't going to fulfill her wifely duties, I'll go fulfill them for myself.” He stalked off to the bathroom.
“You had to call him dishonorable?” I chided Odin.
“I called it like I saw it.”
“I agree with you but you know Trevor's honorable,” I shook my head. “He was caught up in the moment and you could have been more tactful when you pointed all that out to him. As it is, you've probably hurt his feelings.”
“I didn't mean to hurt his feelings,” Odin huffed. “I'll apologize.”
“Later,” I laughed.
“Well I sure as hell wasn't going to do it now,” he smirked at me.
“You going after him?” Kirill asked me casually.
“Let me finish your hair first,” I smiled. “It will be much more fun to walk in on him mid-fulfilling.”
“You're the Devil,” Odin declared.
“She's absolutely not,” Azrael huffed as he came down into the room. He yawned as he finished pulling his shirt on. “What did I miss, that has you calling Vervain by my father's title?”
“Trevor vatched Sam and Brigitte having sex,” Kirill explained. “Zen he got hard, vaved it all around, and valked avay in huff vhen Vervain refused to help him.”
“I'm sorry... what?” Azrael gaped at us. “Did I misunderstand that because of Kirill's heavy accent or did he just say that Trevor waved his hard dick around?”
“He didn't wave it around,” I chided Kirill.
“I embellish for effect,” Kirill shrugged.
“Well your embellishment gave me horrible visuals,” Az shuddered as he took a seat.
“I don't know,” I smirked. “I kinda liked them,” I gave Kirill's hair a final pat and stood. “I think I'll go take care of my husband now.”
“Well this husband is expecting his date afterwards,” Azrael announced.
“Oh, right,” I chewed my lip. “Well Trevor's probably moe than halfway there already. I should only be a few minutes.”
I walked into the bathroom to the sound of laughter.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I put some Intare on rotation, watching the plate Odin had enchanted to keep track of Baron Samedi. After the brief flash I'd had, I didn't want to risk another look at the plate. Plus, I had a date with an angel.
I had a schedule for dates with my men. There were too many of them to do weekly dates or I'd be going out with them every other day. So I went on dates with each of them individually every two weeks. Except for Re, he got weekly dates because he didn't live with us and so saw me less. Not like he didn't come over to see me between dates but our dates were the only time when we had privacy and could be together intimately. Re didn't like to share and I could completely understand that.
Azrael's dates were the only ones that were flexible and sometimes the others would even trade days with him to accommodate his schedule. It was his job. He was kind of like a baby doctor, always on call. Except where an OBGYN brought souls into the world, Azrael would help them journey out. Neither birth or death stick to a schedule.
Azrael could have found a way out of his responsibilities if he wanted to but he truly cared for people and he liked being there to help them cross over. Because of this deep respect for humanity, he'd become fascinated with the numerous cultures of the world. He loved art; be it paintings, literature, film, or music. Any kind of creative expression interested him. And since I happened to be an artist, I shared his love of creativity. Our dates often reflected our shared love of artistic expression. We'd attend art exhibits, book fairs, film festivals, that kind of thing.
So you can imagine my surprise when he took me to Heaven... and it was a heaven I hadn't been to before. In fact, the only reason I knew it was one of the Seven Heavens of the Jerry-religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam), was because of what Azrael said when we arrived.
“Welcome to Makhon, the Fifth Heaven,” he waved expansively as we stepped out of a simple stone tracing chamber.
“Nice hallway,” I observed dryly.
“Wait for it,” he chided as he led me through an airy mansion and then flung open a pair of massive silver doors.
“You probably should have waited to announce it,” I smirked at him. “It would have been much better timing to
have said all that when you threw these big... shiny... doors open.” My words trailed off as I got a look at what lay before me.
The sound registered with me first; a low murmuring of voices. It was like being in a church the size of a football field, with the whole congregation talking but trying to be respectful about it. Then the light hit me. I blinked as I stepped out into a sparkling night. Thousands of candles set within thousands of mirrored lanterns gave off an almost electric glow. The lanterns were everywhere; hanging from trees, set atop boulders, and even hovering mid-air, Harry Potter style. They illuminated a wild forest with soaring trees, draping vines, and jewel-toned petals. The scent of ripe fruit competed with the heavy perfume of night blooming flowers. And through the trees, in swirling but steady lines, angels strode.
There were so many of them, coming from every direction, it was hard to focus on any one group for long. All of their wings were displayed proudly, candlelight glinting off feathers in an assortment of colors; hawk gold, raven black, even parrot red. And there were both sexes represented; male and female angels with their eyes set serenely forward as they flowed through the forest, glowing softly with magic.
“It's like watching the elves leave Middle-Earth,” I whispered. “Elves with wings. Here there be angels.”
“They are the Song-Uttering Choirs,” Azrael spoke in a hushed voice. “Twelve orders of angels who gather to sing the Trisagion.”
“They sing a contagion?” I turned to him in horror.
“The Tri-sagion,” he enunciated clearer. “It's a holy chant. However, these angels live alongside the Ishim and the Ishim are even closer to humans than I am.”
“Uh-huh,” I noted absently as I went back to watching the migration of heavenly birds. “Are they headed South for this song singing?”
“Ha ha,” Azrael rolled his eyes. “They're gathering in the amphitheater. We can fly over in a few minutes, it'll be faster.”
“You can fly,” I grimaced. “I can't, remember?”
“I'll carry you,” he took my hand and squeezed gently. “They only sing once every three years, Carus. I wanted you to hear it. This is very important to me, a piece of my culture, in a way.”
“Thank you for bringing me,” I stopped staring and turned to give Azrael a kiss. “I didn't mean to belittle the gesture. You know I can't resist a good joke.”
“You can't resist a bad joke either, but you're welcome,” his smile went back to its former glory. “So, as I was saying; they are close to- you know what? I think I'll just let you experience it for yourself. It is... unique.” His wings whooshed into existence, spreading up and out from his shoulders in glimmering blue-black magnificence. They added another four feet onto his already impressive height and I felt like a munchkin standing next to him. “Come here, Carus,” his graceful hand slipped around my waist and I felt our new bond shimmer between us.
His emotions passed over me like a gentle breeze; a fresh breath filled with shivering sensations. The hope he had that I'd enjoy this experience with him, the desire to give me a day free from the stress we'd both been under, the excitement he had to see my reaction, and finally the love that was always there between us, a foundation that was even more stable after all we'd been through together.
I don't know what he felt from me but it must have been equally satisfying for him because the soft line of his lips angled up, making them seem fuller than they were. He pressed them to mine briefly, just a quick gesture to acknowledge the moment, then his arms pulled me in tight to his solid chest.
I felt him crouch like a cat about to pounce and then with a giant leap and a strong flap of wings, he lifted us up into the air. More steady strokes brought us higher, our feet dangling over the tree tops, and soon Makhon spread out below us. I could see that the angels were streaming in from twelve points, evenly spaced around the territory like the markings on a clock, and the twelve lines ended in the center of Makhon, at a gigantic stone amphitheater. It was similar in design to the Colosseum except much larger and the stone appeared to be either jet or onyx, perhaps a vein-less marble. Whatever the stone was, it was polished to a glassy sheen and the candlelight made it appear to be glittering but when we got closer, it became clear that it was simply shiny black stone.
The black was a good choice. With the lights reflecting off its surface and the angels streaming into it, it looked like the night sky. The twelve lines weren't the only angels there either. The arriving angels flowed into the open space in the center of the structure but surrounding them, going up the sides in tiered levels, were seats full of the angelic host. It made me a little nervous honestly. The last time I'd seen so many angels in one place was when I'd been taken to the Seventh Heaven and Azrael brought the demons of Hell to rescue me. Yeah that line about being in seventh heaven? It's complete BS; the Seventh Heaven sucks. But that may just be the torture talking.
Azrael set us down on a balcony jutting out from the curving wall, high above the angelic audience. It was the only balcony in the theater and there was only one other person on the platform with us. He was an angel, of course. His wings were deep walnut, like a sparrow's, and his eyes gleamed pale yellow. He bowed as Azrael escorted me over to him.
“Lord Azrael, we're honored that you could join us.”
“Thank you, Tagas,” Azrael nodded respectfully. “I'd like you to meet my wife, the Lady Vervain. Vervain, this is Tagas, the Angel of Music.”
“The Angel of Music?” I lifted my brows in surprise. “There really is an Angel of Music?”
“Please,” he held up his hand as his face went serious. “No Phantom of the Opera jokes.” He held his serious expression while I gaped at him for three seconds and then he burst into giggles. “Forgive me, I couldn't help it. I don't get to tease goddesses outside my pantheon very often. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Vervain,” he bowed to me.
“Nice to meet you too,” I gave him a big grin, liking him immediately. “Are you in charge of this little sing-a-long?”
“Yes, in a way,” he gave another giggle. “I direct the choirs. But please, I've had some refreshments prepared for you and your seats are waiting. The choirs are almost gathered and the song will soon begin. I think you'll really enjoy this year's rendition.”
He waved us forward on the balcony, where two thrones had been set with a table of food and drinks laid between them. I lifted a brow at Azrael. I hadn't been expecting the royal treatment in another angel's territory. Each heaven was ruled by a separate angel. Azrael ruled the Third Heaven and I knew Michael ruled the Fourth but I had no idea who ruled the Fifth. I doubted it was Tagas, he didn't seem like a dominant archangel. So where was the ruler of Makhon?
I would have asked Azrael but he looked so pleased with everything, I didn't want to ruin it. I'd ask him later, when he wasn't pouring me a glass of Heaven's wine. He handed me the glass and then put away his wings so he could sit comfortably in the high-backed chair. I sipped my drink thoughtfully as I looked out into the amphitheater.
The center was full of angels and once they settled into place, they looked up to our balcony expectantly. In the seats around the sides of the amphitheater, the other angels eagerly turned our way as well. They weren't looking at Azrael and I but at Tagas, who stepped to the edge of the open balcony and pulled out a maestro's baton.
“Did he say rendition?” I asked Azrael just as Tagas held up his baton and everyone went silent.
Azrael nodded with glee.
There was no introduction, no greeting to either the choir or the guests. Tagas simply did what every orchestra's maestro does; he waved his baton about with surgical precision and the angels began to sing. I gasped as the hair stood up on my arms. Their voices were perfect, beyond perfect; a lilting harmony of cascading bells and deep drums. It was the kind of music that moved you to tears and left you speechless. Music that resonated into your bones and collected in your chest, swirling over your heart until you knew it had become a part of you.
I was in
awe.
Then the resonance changed. I felt the shift more than heard it; a slow slide into a lower range. I leaned forward in my chair, sensing that something amazing was about to happen but nothing prepared me for what the choirs did next.
I'm not a musically inclined person. I couldn't tell you the difference between a treble cleft and a cleft chin, and the only sopranos I was familiar with were members of a fictional mob family. So I can't describe the song in the proper terms, I can only tell you what happened and the way I experienced it.
Three of the twelve orders separated themselves from the others and tore their pristine robes away as they strode forward. Beneath them, they wore denim, cotton, and leather, all in shades of black. They boasted boots with jeans or mini skirts, and studded jackets. I gaped as they sang out with a thunderous beat, transitioning the ethereal music into something more tribal while the other orders continued to draw out the original sound.
Then three more orders leaped into the air, shedding their robes as they went. They wore pale silks and sparkling jewels, shimmering through the air as their voices tinkled brightly to a faster tune. Their voices rose as they did, higher and higher, giving the tribal beat a modern twist until the lower tones became background to the free-spirited melody.
Three more orders separated themselves from those still holding onto the original tune, and leaped up to hover about forty feet above the ground. They shed their white robes, revealing body hugging spandex costumes in deep jewel tones. Their voices added movement to the music, enhancing it until it took shape. The dramatic dips and lifts of alternative rock became clear and I swung my head over to gape at Azrael. Angels singing rock music?
He gently pushed my chin back forward as the last group of three orders rose up, positioning themselves perfectly between the previous group and the one flying highest, so that there were four distinct levels of angels now, each an equal distance apart. This last group had vibrantly colored clothes on beneath their robes, tones between jewel and pastel, so that the length of angels before us had an ombré appearance, going from darkest at the bottom to lightest at top. This final group added lyrics to the music and it was only then that I realized the other three groups had been using their voices as instruments in the most literal sense.
