The Wind-up Forest

by L. J. LaBarthe

  “Damn,” Gabriel muttered. He leaned back against the wall again. “So we’re back where we started.”

  “Yeah, pretty much,” Tzadkiel said. “I have no idea where to look for the Grail now. I don’t know who this woman and her son were, either. I have nothing to show for several days in Egypt, except sand burn.”

  “It is all right, Tzadkiel,” Michael said. “You have told us of the theft and of the fact that the Grail was a copy. This is important information. It tells us that whoever stole it knew that it was fake and stole it to keep attention on the copy, rather than on the original.”

  “Like a diversion?” Tzadkiel nodded slowly. “Yes, that would make sense,” he answered his own question.

  “Pilgrims come from all over the world to visit the monastery,” Brieus said. “It’d be difficult to work out who might be involved in this, considering how many people visit the place.”

  Michael nodded. “You have done well,” he said. “If it is not too much trouble, perhaps you could join Raziel and Uriel in Yerevan? Gabriel and I will be along shortly.”

  Tzadkiel nodded and got to his feet, brushing bits of grass from his pants. “We can do that. What are the others doing?”

  “Samael is still looking for Joseph of Arimathea in Heaven,” Gabriel said. “Metatron’s with him. Haniel’s with Ishtahar and Agrat, giving Agrat moral support before she goes to have tea and scones with Lilith.”

  Tzadkiel sneered. “Lilith,” he growled, “has no place involving herself in this.”

  “Do you think she intends to do that?” Michael asked.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me.” Tzadkiel shook his head. “Where are our Archdemons?”

  “No idea,” Gabriel said. “They’ll probably find you sooner or later, though.”

  “So we should keep an eye out for them in Armenia, too?” Brieus asked.

  “Yeah.” Gabriel nodded. “If you hear from them before Mike and me show up, give us a yell, yeah?”

  Tzadkiel nodded. “Right. Well, we’ll see you in Yerevan in a bit, then.”

  Gabriel grinned. “That you will.”

  “Thank you, Tzadkiel,” Michael said. “And to you also, Brieus and Sophiel.”

  Tzadkiel gave them a wave and then planted his hands on Brieus’s and Sophiel’s shoulders. A moment later, they disappeared with the sound of rustling wings.

  Gabriel regarded Michael. “Belle Coeur now?”

  “Yes,” Michael said. He nodded eagerly. “I would like that very much.”

  Gabriel hugged Michael close and moved them.

  Chapter Nine

  IT WAS cooler on Belle Coeur. Winter was slowly moving in, and the sea, usually bright blue, was leaden and gray. Gabriel decided that even though the weather was against them, he could still give Michael a few days and evenings of romance and sex—just indoors, not outdoors.

  So he told Michael to go and lie down and relax and went into the kitchen, humming to himself. The first part of his hastily made plan involved food. Gabriel was no chef, and he was aware that he would most likely burn water if he tried, so he cheated. He blipped over to a neighboring island with an expensive restaurant and bought a meal fit for a king. Using his power to carry everything without dropping it, he returned to Belle Coeur and began to set up the food in the dining room.

  There was lobster in garlic butter, oysters Kilpatrick, a Thai salad with mandarin slices and shrimp, fresh bread with butter, and for dessert, a mango sorbet with fresh cream and strawberries.

  Making sure that nothing was going to spoil, Gabriel pulled in a bottle of wine and turned the stereo on low, Frank Sinatra crooning softly from the speakers. He lit all the candles in the room and then went into the living room, where he lit the fire in the fireplace and more candles. Then he pulled cushions off the sofas and chairs and scattered them in what he hoped was an aesthetically pleasing way on the plush rug.

  Gabriel stepped back to observe his handiwork. The living room was warm and inviting, and on a whim, he decided to scatter rose petals on the rug and cushions as well. It took him a while to find somewhere with wild roses, and when he did, Gabriel used his power to disguise his theft from the rose gardens at Regent’s Park in London, and stole as many blooms as he dared. Then he plucked the petals from half of them, scattered them over the living room floor, carpet, and cushions, and placed the others, intact, in the middle of the floor.

  “Not bad,” he said to himself.

  Pausing only long enough to select one long-stemmed red rose from the bouquet in the middle of the floor, Gabriel then sauntered down to the other end of the house and the bedroom.

  Michael was curled up on the large bed, his arms wrapped around Gabriel’s pillow. He wasn’t asleep—not exactly. He was in a state that Gabriel could only describe as being a light doze. Gabriel moved to sit on the bed and brushed Michael’s cheek with the petals of the rose.

  Michael stirred and opened his eyes. He smiled at Gabriel and took the rose as Gabriel held it out to him. “Thank you, da bao, it is beautiful. What is this for?”

  “’Cause I love you.” Gabriel smiled affectionately. “Do I need a reason?”

  “No, I do not suppose that you do.” Michael lifted the rose and inhaled its fragrance. “It is lovely.”

  “So do you want something to eat?” Gabriel asked.

  Michael nodded. “Perhaps something small.”

  “Then you should get up and come with me to the dining room.” Gabriel stood up and held out his hand.

  Michael sat up. “What are you up to?” he asked, his voice full of amusement. He took Gabriel’s hand without waiting for an answer and stood up, carefully placing the rose on the bedside table.

  “It’s a surprise,” Gabriel said. “I’m romancing you tonight.”

  “Indeed?” Michael smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Good, I’m glad.” Gabriel gave Michael’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Come on.”

  Michael followed willingly as Gabriel led the way out of the bedroom and back down the house to the dining room. It was dark now, and there was the sound of rain on the roof mingling with the sounds of Frank Sinatra coming from the stereo. The candles flickered a little as the wind from outside blew through the narrow spaces between the doors, windows, and their frames.

  Gabriel gestured grandly at the dining table laid with all the food he had bought from the neighboring resort island. Michael’s eyes grew round as saucers.

  “This is a lot of food, da bao,” Michael said.

  “Aye, and I want some food too, so you won’t have to eat it all by yourself, you know.” Gabriel laughed as Michael’s expression became one of relief. “Did you really think you would?”

  “One was uncertain,” Michael said. “I am never entirely certain what you intend, Gabriel.”

  “I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.” Gabriel moved into the room and held a chair for his lover. “Sit, solnyshko.”

  “Thank you, you are very kind.” Michael sat, after first giving Gabriel a brief kiss on the cheek.

  “I try.” Gabriel moved to his own chair and sat down. “Dig in,” he said, reaching for a serving spoon and the plate of lobster.

  Michael reached for the Thai salad and made an approving noise as he scented the fragrances of the dressing. “You cooked all this yourself?”

  Gabriel laughed at that, finished serving himself lobster, and reached for the plate of oysters. “Not hardly. I went to the next-door island and talked to the resort’s chef. He gave me all of this. So, I paid a five-star chef to make my five-star bonded a five-star meal.”

  Michael blushed. “You flatter me. And—” He ate a mouthful of salad. “—you spoil me.”

  “Not even a little,” Gabriel said. “I give you what you deserve, because I love you.”

  Michael smiled. “You are very sweet, Gabriel.” He reached over to take Gabriel’s hand in his own and gave it a little squeeze. “Do not fret.” He winked. “I will not tell anyone.”

&nb
sp; “Good, because I need to maintain my badass reputation, and being sweet from time to time would totally ruin that,” Gabriel teased.

  “Language. And it would not, but it seems to amuse you, so I shall not deny you.” Michael released Gabriel’s hand and returned to his meal.

  They ate in companionable silence, punctuated only by phrases complimenting each dish that they ate. After they had eaten nearly everything on the table, Gabriel used his power to send the leftovers to the fridge, then took Michael’s hand in his own once more.

  “Shall we go to the living room, solnyshko?”

  Michael smiled shyly. “If you would like.”

  Gabriel stood up and smiled fondly. “Aye, I’d like.”

  “Then I would like, too.” Michael stood as well. “Should we do the dishes first, however?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “Took care of that.” He waved the fingers of his free hand at Michael as his lover seemed confused. “Magic, baby.”

  “Oh.” Michael’s expression cleared. “I see. All right then.”

  Gabriel led Michael into the living room, and the soft glow of the candles filled the room with a warm, golden light. The rose petals gave off a gentle fragrance, and the fire on the grate crackled and popped as the flames devoured the wood. Michael gasped as he took in Gabriel’s modifications to the room, taking in the roses and the petals strewn about the floor and over the thick, plush rugs; the cushions tastefully piled together; the candles; the music; and the open curtains that showed the windows splashed with rain.

  “Oh, Gabriel,” Michael said softly. He looked at Gabriel. “It is lovely.”

  Gabriel tugged him into the room and sank down onto the rug. Michael joined him a moment later, and Gabriel wrapped his arms around his lover and kissed him, gently pressing him back to lie on the rug, his head pillowed by the cushions. Michael kissed him back, eagerly, hungrily, with a wholehearted devotion that never failed to make Gabriel’s heart do little flip-flops in his chest.

  “I love you very much, da bao.” Michael’s mental voice was warm and tender.

  “I love you very much, too, solnyshko.” Gabriel kissed Michael harder, running one hand down his side. “How did I do with the romance?”

  “Very well. One confesses that one has little experience in these matters, save for what one has seen on television or DVDs, but you have surpassed them all.”

  “You watched romance movies and TV shows?”

  “Yes. I confess that many of them made me feel uncomfortable. What is a ‘rom-com’?”

  Gabriel had to break the kiss to laugh. “A rom-com is a romantic comedy. You know, often a comedy of errors, with a romantic tale woven in, and then there’s a happy ending, when the boy gets the girl or similar.”

  “I see.” Michael frowned. “I do not like them. They are unrealistic and give humans a very unnatural view of how relationships work.”

  “That’s why they’re entertainment, not self-help guides,” Gabriel said. He was trying not to laugh again, but it was very difficult. Michael’s earnest concern about popular culture was, to Gabriel’s very biased mind, extremely adorable. And funny.

  “But so many humans seem to think they are wonderful.” Michael’s brow was furrowed as if he were trying to decipher a particularly difficult puzzle. “Angelique and Lily made me watch two movies and ate popcorn and shared a box of tissues between them. I confess, it was discomforting. I saw nothing in the movies to require such an emotional, tearful response.”

  This time, Gabriel did laugh. He couldn’t stop the guffaw that bubbled out of him.

  “What is it?” Michael frowned. “What have I said?”

  “Oh, baby.” Gabriel, still chuckling, ruffled Michael’s hair. “You are such an innocent sometimes. Never change.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Okay, well, I’ve always found rom-coms a bit naff,” Gabriel said. “Like you say, they ain’t particularly realistic. Some of ’em are real good, though. Mind you,” he rolled his eyes at himself in amusement, “all those action movies I like ain’t realistic at all.”

  “Then why do you watch them?”

  Gabriel grinned. “Because it’s escapism. Entertainment ain’t always about providing a life lesson. Most of the time, entertainment’s about providing an escape from the worries and concerns of everyday life. If movies or TV shows were all like real life, they’d be awfully depressing, don’t you think?”

  Michael puzzled that over. “I suppose,” he said finally, “but I do not understand why some human movies are so very realistic and, in truth, depictions of real events through history, and some are very far removed from realism.”

  “Entertainment appeals to everyone in different forms,” Gabriel said. “I bet if we took a poll of the rest of our Brotherhood, they’d all like different sorts of movies that you and me couldn’t see the appeal in.”

  Michael considered that. “I suppose you are right. What films do you think they would enjoy?”

  “Well, I bet Tzadkiel loves spy movies, thrillers, crime films—especially from Hong Kong—that sort of thing. Sammy probably really likes those life stories about overcoming trials and tribulations. Metatron… hm. I’d bet he’d like human stories, biopics. Haniel, well, he’d love the rom-coms, I’d bet on that. Remiel probably likes those films that are made from books. Uriel probably really loves the horror genre, the more of a gore fest, the better. He’d probably find splatter films really hilarious.” Gabriel wrinkled his nose at that. “I bet Raz’d find that really gross. He probably likes all those existentialist art-house movies that are totally incomprehensible to most of us. I bet Ish loves Bollywood films. Agrat probably would too, now I think about it. And good erotica, I bet she likes those. Iss would be all over musicals or films about musicians. Raphael probably likes comedies, ’cause God Himself knows how much pain and suffering Raph sees as a healer.”

  “What films do you like, Gabriel?” Michael asked.

  “Me? I like comedies, the sillier, the better. Slapstick humor is awesome. And I like adventure movies, some historical dramas, and a good war or action movie.”

  “I see.” Michael frowned again. “I confess that I liked the films that Angelique showed me that she called martial arts movies.”

  Gabriel grinned. “I am totally not surprised by that. What else did you like?”

  Michael appeared thoughtful. “I liked the movies made for children and young adults. I liked those very much. They were entertaining and they were intelligently made.”

  Gabriel quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

  “Yes.” Michael nodded. “Is that strange?”

  “No, not now I think on it.” Gabriel lightly touched Michael’s cheek. “You spend a lot of time with Venatores orphans and war orphans in general; it kinda makes sense to me that you like films made for that age group.”

  “Oh. I see.” Michael turned his head to kiss Gabriel’s fingers. “I confess that the films you like are not a surprise to me, either. Although… what is Bollywood?”

  Gabriel burst out laughing again. “Oh, Mishka,” he said, hugging Michael tight. “Fuck, I love you.”

  “Language. I love you also. But what is Bollywood?” Michael asked as he hugged Gabriel back.

  “It’s the umbrella name for films made in India,” Gabriel explained. “They’re usually simple plots: boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy and girl have to overcome some kind of conflict, boy and girl reunite, happy ending ensues. There’s also a lot of singing and dancing.”

  “Really?” Michael quirked an eyebrow. “Perhaps I should ask Ishtahar about this. They sound more to my tastes than the rom-coms that Angelique insists I watch with her and Lily.”

  “I’m actually surprised she didn’t insist you watch some action movies,” Gabriel said.

  Michael shook his head. “She did. I do not like those kind of movies. All that needless violence and destruction. There is too much of that in the world already. I do not wish to see it blown out of proportion
in a movie.”

  “You’re such a good soul, Michael,” Gabriel said. He kissed Michael’s forehead, then his nose, then his mouth.

  “Not so good,” Michael disagreed. He pulled Gabriel down for another kiss, more passionate than the first one. “But if you like me, that is all that matters.”

  “More’n like,” Gabriel purred between kisses. “Love.”

  Michael pulled Gabriel closer. “That is the best thing to happen to me.”

  “You’re my world, Michael. How could I want anything or anyone else?”

  “I do not wish to think on that question.” Michael nipped Gabriel’s lip. “Is this part of the romance of the evening?”

  “The questioning? No. The kissing, though, yeah, definitely.”

  “I like the kissing.”

  “Then I’ll kiss you for as long as you want, as much as you want.”

  “How does forever sound?”

  “That sounds very doable, my Michael.”

  Michael’s lips tightened into a smile as they kissed. “I am glad.”

  Gabriel slid a hand beneath Michael’s shirt to caress his stomach. “How do you feel about the touching thing?”

  “I confess that I like it a lot.”

  “Should I do it some more?”

  “Please. Gabriel, please.” Michael’s mental voice had grown breathy, a light purr-growl in his tone, and Gabriel shivered pleasurably.

  He broke the kiss for a moment, only as long as it was required to strip off his T-shirt, and Michael tugged off his sweatshirt, tossing it aside. Gabriel bent down to kiss Michael again, making a small, happy noise as Michael’s hands went to his wing joints. The kiss deepened as Michael’s fingers deftly began to rub the sensitive spots in the soft down, and Gabriel growled, feeling heat slither through him, a primitive, animalistic heat.

  “Michael,” he growled as he broke the kiss, “you know what happens when you do that to my wing joints.”

  Michael gave them another rub. “My apologies.” He didn’t sound particularly apologetic. “I enjoy the consequences of doing this, however.”

  “Then don’t apologize.” Gabriel used his power to get rid of the rest of their clothes and kissed Michael hard, curling his wings inward so that he could trail the rough edges of his wing claws down the sides of Michael’s body. Michael hissed at the scratches, arching into Gabriel and whining as Gabriel pinned him down onto the rug with the weight of his body.