“Yeah?”
“Don’t get too close to him. Stick with the assignment. Do what you can to convince him to come home, but be careful. All right?”
She nodded. “You got it.”
“Good. See you back here soon … with Julael. Got faith in you, kid. I know you can do it.”
Aliyael gave her a wry grin. Kid, eh? Loriel had been an angel a few millennia longer and had a few ranks on her in the seraphim as a result. She sometimes wondered if her friend saw her as more of a younger sister.
“Thanks, Lore. Be seeing ya.”
A whirling of air, the blowing of papers and leaves, and Aliyael materialized behind a few trees within Boston Common. She stepped out and towards the path, breathing in the cool, dry wind. Glad I chose to wear a jacket. The colourful array of trees told her it was autumn. She was’t sure of the calendar year, but figured she had been sent to whenever Julael was hiding out.
From the looks of things, early twenty-first century for sure. She guessed 2010, which had been where her last cases had taken place. That made sense; angels rarely travelled through time during their assignments and tended to live alongside the humans as their centuries progressed. Each case was received in chronological order according to the human timeline.
However, with a fallen angel, that predictability could’ve gone right out the window.
Aliyael brushed her hands along her worn, light-blue jeans. Clothing, but her usual attire. It almost was her human uniform at this point: long, black trench coat, blue jeans and a purple blouse. She gazed down at the front of her shirt. Yup, still there. Hanging from her neck was a set of black Buddhist beads that one of her assignments had given to her as a gift before he passed on. She continued to wear them in memory of him.
What a wonderful guy Tom was. And still is, no doubt. She didn’t know what became of his soul, but was certain it was something fantastic, glorious. He deserved no less.
She reached into her back pocket and took out her Charlie card. Her senses tingled. Time to investigate the subway. Maybe he was riding the T somewhere around here. But which line? Orange? Green?
I’ll try Green first. Maybe I’ll get lucky.
Shoving her hands into her pockets, Aliyael walked towards the main public area ahead. She eyed the vendors in their carts along the sidewalk. Jewellery, hot dogs, pretzels, sausages. A whiff of grilled onions mingled with the odour of dirt and exhaust from the traffic on Tremont Street. She glanced at a sign above the nearby entrance to the T stop: PARK STREET, repeated twice, once with a red background and next to it in green. Beneath was the legend: ALL TRAINS.
There we go. Clutching her Charlie card, Aliyael ducked into the entrance and down the stairs. She swiped her card at the gate and, once she passed through, made her way through the crowds of people. In the middle of the platform she came to a halt, glancing back and forth at the different signs for the B, C, D and E trains.
Great, which train do I take?
Behind her on the left the sound of a horn blew, startling her out of her thoughts. On the front car the brightly lit “B” answered her dilemma.
Heh, are they making this easy for me or what? Or at least she hoped as she ran towards the swarm of people boarding the train.
Clunk, squeak. With a false start, the train lurched forwards. Grasping for a nearby rail, Aliyael managed not to fall into the person standing beside her.
Oh, hi there, gravity. We don’t have you where I come from.
At the next stop more people piled into the train car. A fluttering sensation emerged in her stomach, and her hair stood on end.
It’s him. He’s one of them. But who? The mere sight of Julael should trigger the proper intuitive response from her. All angels possessed the ability to sense when another was near, and the power to detect became more potent upon viewing. Depending on the strength and rank of the angel relative to the other, the psychic impact could be immense. Running into Gabriel in Los Angeles demonstrated that for her. Aliyael still remembered almost learning what the experience for a human to throw up was like.
A small smile sprang to her lips. The quickening ain’t got nothing on what we’ve got.
Her smile faded when she spotted the back of a man’s head. Shoulder-length, glossy black hair. Brown suit jacket over a slim but muscular build. Her gaze travelstop wnwards to get a better look at his appearance. She stared at the lower half of his body, which his dark navy jeans showed off quite well. Nice ass, definitely a looker. The Powers That Be did well with that form. But that impudent thought dissolved once she comprehended what her reaction to his presence meant. Then she picked it up: that distinct signature embedded in his energy of one of the fallen. She could distinguish it out from the stream, an off-key note in the music.
Aliyael’s stomach churned. It’s him. Julael.
With great speed, the man’s head spun around. In moments her gaze met and locked with a rather intense pair of light-blue eyes. The shock sent a bolt of white-hot lightning into her core.
She gulped. Whoa.
When she recovered from the jolt, the man had vanished from view. Yet the faint spiritual essence lingering within told her Julael was still near. Did he hide somewhere in the crowd? How did she miss him moving from the spot where he had stood?
Leeya, you idiot. She felt like a new angel on her first assignment all over again. Had she learned nothing at all? Where had all of her training gone? How careless!
The memory of those powerful eyes branded into her mind, and she could just remember the details of his face. Strong chin and high cheekbones framed by ebony hair, and the hue of his eyes had melted against the glow of his skin. Who was this guy? Whoever he may be, he had an awful lot going on upstairs, even for a fallen. Oh, Light, what is wrong with me?
Her arm ached, and she realized she had been clutching the rail. Aliyael relaxed her tight grip and forced herself to breathe. Remember, you have lungs now. And they work. Eyes burning with frustration and shame, she knew she had to find Julael again, and soon. Only this time, however, the uncertainty of how much she wanted to find him remained.
But beyond any doubt in her angelic mind whatsoever, she knew that in spite of her trepidation, she wanted to see him again.
* * *
Think, Leeya, think. Where did he go? Desperate, Aliyah rummaged through her mind to remember all of her lessons on tracking energy. She could still sense Julael onboard the train, but where had he gone? She would need to follow him to his destination if she wanted the chance to speak with him.
If. She clenched and unclenched her free hand, willing herself to calm down. A trickle of sweat made its way down her back.
This would not be an easy assignment.
Nervous, she fingered the prayer beads around her neck. Think I could use a bit of help here …
“And what stop are you getting off at?” The smooth baritone voice broke through her concentration. She whirled around to see that it came from Julael, who now stood behind her. Holy hell, how did he do that? Light, he’s good. Too good, she figured, given he was capable of sneaking up behind her. She swallowed, her insides turning into fire and ice. Breathe, Leeya, breathe. Not your first time in a body.
Aliyael tried to keep her tone light. “Just wandering around, enjoying the day. And you?”
“Same. You like tea?” His voice reminded her of melted caramel. When was the last time she had a caramel candy, anyhow? A number of assignments ago, perhaps. Maybe in that small town outside of Seattle? Or was it in that shop in London? She couldn’t remember. Then she realized he was still waiting for an answer.
What was he asking her again? Something about his eyes distracted her. I … what? Do I what? She fought to comprehend the question. Right, tea. Tea’s good. “Um, yeah. Why?”
“There’s a good tea café place at the next stop. You should try it.”
She blinked. Here stood one of the fallen beside her on the subway, and he was chatting with her about tea? Claire’s dream seemed more rea
l to her than this.
“C’mon, I’ll take you there if you don’t believe me.”
Fighting to keep from stammering, Aliyael blurted out, “Are you asking me out for tea? You for real?”
Julael laughed. “What else are you going to do while you’re here on Earth? Get drunk? Go to a Red Sox game?”
He’s got a strange sense of humour, this one. She chuckled. “OK, you’ve got a point. But there’s decent beer at Fenway.” Aliyael dared a glance at his face and into those amazing eyes. Sure enough, she saw amusement twinkling in the icy-blue depths.
“And here was I thinking angels didn’t know how to have fun any more.”
She didn’t know how to reply to that. The train crunched to a halt, and the doors swung open.
Julael gestured towards the open door. “After you.” Loriel’s warning echoed in her mind. Don’t get too close.
She settled for a smile. “Thanks.”
They exited the train and made their way through the station to the street above.
“Name’s Julian. You can call me Jule.”
“Aliyael. Leeya for short.” She added, “If you like.”
“Sure thing, Leeya.” He smirked, and the strange tang to his energy sharpened. At once Aliyael recalled what her purpose in being here entailed, and her stomach fell into her shoes.
Oh wow, this assignment is nuts. What were the Powers That Be thinking? For that matter, what was she thinking? This line of thought would wrap itself around her head over and over again once they sat across from each other with a mug of tea in each hand, the seraph and the fallen angel. The sole conclusion that bubbled up from the tangle of ideas assured her that while the Powers That Be may know what they were doing, they also possessed a very bizarre, twisted notion of what passed as comedy.
Aliyael glanced at his mug, then at back at hers. Julael ordered Earl Grey; she chose chai. Two bags of sugar went into his tea, which he stirred with a thoughtful air while she put soy milk and brown sugar into hers. From the outside, the entire exchange looked … normal. Two people ordering tea and sitting down for a chat together. Perhaps people watching them thought they were here on business or were friends.
Maybe they think we’re out on a date. She smothered a fit of the giggles and took a sip of her chai.
“So! Don’t keep me in suspense.” He put his mug down on the table, and his long slender fingers drew her attention while he folded his hands in front of him. “I’d love to hear why you think I should rejoin the seraphim.”
Choking on her tea, she almost dropped her cup on the table. While she continued to cough, Julael continued to speak. “Oh, I know that’s why you’re here. I figured that much out. They don’t send a seraph into a major metropolitan area just for giggles, after all.”
Light, now what? “Well, um.” Aliyael coughed again. “I was more hoping you could tell me first how you, um … well …”
“How I fell?”
Not trusting her voice, she nodded.
Julael grinned. “Not liking that term, are you?”
Averting her eyes from his forceful gaze, Aliyael chose that moment to take a slow sip of her chai before replying. “I can’t say it’s a pleasant one.”
“Nor are my reasons for it. But I’ll tell you what.” He leaned in towards her, and she could smell some sort of spice mixed in with an earthy fragrance. Sandalwood? A hint of clove? Maybe some cnamon. Or was that her chai? Dizziness overwhelmed her.
“You strike me as being a bit different from the others, Leeya. So I’m going to tell you the more important part of my journey.”
After a few moments she found her voice, and was surprised to hear how clear it sounded to her ears. “Oh?”
“Yes. I’m not just going to tell you how I fell. I’m going to tell you why.”
Oh, this ought to be interesting … “All right then, Jule,” she answered, surprised at how easily his name fell off her lips. “Go ahead. Shoot.”
Julael fell back into his chair with a grin, and once again the table served as a comfortable distance between them. Somehow this proved to be disappointing to Aliyael, which confused her even further.
“What’s the difference between us,” he pointed at himself and Aliyael, “and them?” He gestured wildly towards the rest of the café patrons seated around them.
The corners of her mouth began to turn downwards. She had a bad feeling as to where this conversation was leading them, had heard similar arguments before.
With a small shrug of her shoulders, Aliyael opted for what she hoped proved to be a sane response. “We’re angels, and they’re humans.”
“Mm-hm. And how do angels differ from humans?”
Oh dear. She knew this was coming. Her reply was given in a careful, measured tone. “They have free will. We do not.”
“And why is that?”
“Because our priority is to serve the Powers That Be. Our whole beings, everything that we are, what we do … it all goes into it.” She chugged the rest of her mug, wishing the liquid inside were a bit stronger. Perhaps of another variety altogether. Maybe I should’ve gone for the beer at Fenway after all …
“Say we were to choose something they didn’t want us to do. What would happen?”
Her brow furrowed. “Um, doesn’t that question suggest we have free will to begin with?”
Julael laughed. “Oh, I think I like you, Leeya!” He picked up his mug to take a sip. Peering at her over the top, he asked in a sly tone, “So, would that mean that every choice we make is technically something either the Powers That Be want us to do, or leads us towards doing something which is in line with serving them?”
A glint in his eyes made her hesitate in responding. “I … I guess.”
“All right then. So tell me, Leeya … why did I fall?”
She froze, her mind reeling. “You’re telling me you think that the Powers That Be wanted you to—”
Driving his pointed finger in the air, he exclaimed, “Precisely! Which is why I think I’m going to enjoy the rest of this wonderful tea, apologize to you for failing your assignment, and offer you the chance to come back to my place afterwards.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious.”
“At which?”
“All of it. I mean, what?” She folded her arms in front of her chest. “Jule, you are some kinda crazy. Are you listening to yourself? If they wanted you this way, then why did they send me here?”
“No idea, Leeya, no idea.” He winked at her. “Wanna find out?”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “And how do you propose I do that?”
“You done with your tea?” She nodded. “So am I. Come, follow me.”
Perplexed but curious, Aliyael did.
Julael lived in a rather small one-bedroom apartment in the Back Bay, but knowing the rents in the area Aliyael knew he must be spending a small fortune. Where is he getting the money? If he’s abusing his powers, that’s not cool.
Not even bothering to hide her reaction, she folded her arms and glared at him. “Very nice. So, aside from the high cost of living, what did you wanna to show me?”
He made a small noise. It sounded like a cross between a snort and a tsk. Shooting a disapproving look in her direction, he replied, “It’s not what you think.”
“It better not be.”
“It’s in my bedroom.”
Oh, Light. “You’re not going to hit on me, are you?”
His sole response was to laugh and open the bedroom door. In a slow, cautious fashion, she peered her head in.
The small room contained within it a bed, a nightstand … and a million pieces of artwork surrounding the bed. The paintings on each canvas depicted scenes of Boston, the Sanctuary – but all of it from an angel’s perspective. The brilliant hues of people’s energy shone in the paint, giving each detail an almost surrealistic look. Each piece of art was unlike anything Aliyael had seen before.
She gasped aloud. “When did you start doing these?”<
br />
“Not sure, really. But they sell pretty well. I’ve made enough to live here and save a bit extra.”
“You’re saving money? For what?” She couldn’t fathom what an angel would do with money. What would they buy with it? A yacht? DVDs? Angels had no need for such things, no desire.
Julael threw his hands up in the air and beamed at her. “I have no idea. Absolutely no idea. But think! That’s the beauty of it! What would I do with the money? How would I spend it? Anything!”
Staring at him in silence, it hit Aliyael what these paintings meant to him: they were his freedom. She couldn’t deny the fact that they were splendid. The exquisiteness contained within each detail stunned her and filled her with awe. How can one of the fallen have such a beautiful mind? She didn’t understand. It went against everything she understood about angels after they fell.
“These must really … inspire people. Tell me,” she asked, turning towards him, “what have others said about them?”
“They love them and they’re buying them, so I hope they’re inspirational. But you know, I think the whole thing about being ‘fallen’ is funny, you know that?”
Aliyael did her best not to grimace. “How so?”
“Well, let’s take the previous conversation we had about that, for instance. So let’s say we as angels have no free will. I fall. Ergo, it was Divine Will which made me fall, correct?”
She gave him a slow nod.
“All right then. So if any one of us could fall at any given time due to Divine Will, how are we best serving the Powers That Be? What does it mean to fall?” He sat on the bed, and waited for her response.
“It means you were … exiled. Banished from the Sanctuary.” Seating herself next to him, Aliyael began to wonder what she was now in for.
“And thus cast out of the presence of the Powers That Be.”
“Correct.”
“All due to Divine Will.”
“Right.”
“So … is it possible none of us are actually serving the Powers That Be at all? Why would we not be given free will, but still be able to exhibit traits which allow us to be banished?”
The Mammoth Book of Hot Romance Page 40
