by Alexia Purdy
Thalia rolled down the window, poked out her head, and waved an arm. “Paul sent us to you, Theroniel. Please don’t shoot. I’m Thalia Brennan. He said you might have some answers to questions I have.”
Theroniel’s stern face glared, a piercing stare that made her want to shrink back into the car, roll the window up, and whip the vehicle around. He was evaluating whether or not she was a threat. From the state of the road, she doubted he got many visitors.
He lowered his shotgun and begrudgingly motioned for them to get out of the car. They immediately obeyed. Thalia left her sword in the car so as to not insult Theroniel. At least it’d be close enough to run to if need be.
She stood by the car, her hands up in the air. Matt mirrored her actions.
“Please. Paul said you could help me.”
“Thalia Brennan. I knew your parents. Kind, they were. I fear seeing you here means they have met their fate.”
Thalia was stunned. She cleared her throat. “You knew my parents?” She immediately felt ignorant. He was no ordinary Fallen. She sensed he’d been an archangel. He might have met her when she was a toddler, for all she knew, but she couldn’t remember that far back. She would remember an archangel, wouldn’t she? Especially a powerful Fallen one. He reeked of power, like sharp ozone after a summer storm or the freshly burnt air around a downed powerline snared across the road. It was not easy being in the presence of unearthly beings, especially those meant to serve at the right hand of God.
While angels were a dime a dozen, there were but a handful of archangels. They were the leaders of legions of winged creatures, but as tyrannical as could be expected. Someone had to be in control of the masses, or chaos would ensue. It was the same with humans, only mortals didn’t possess such an air of authority.
“Yes, I knew them,” Theroniel said softly, his eyes softening as he reminisced. “They were good friends of mine when you were but a small thing. When they left here, I was saddened. It gets quite lonely living here. Their company was quite welcome, but they were on the run and couldn’t stay forever.”
Theroniel smiled, his blue eyes twinkling under the midday sun. It sent a shiver down her spine, and she rubbed her arms furiously. Darn angel powers… they were hard to ignore.
“Sorry about the shotgun. Can never be too careful around these parts. I’ve had several cattle stolen the past few months. Damn raiders are getting out hand. Plus, your credentials precede you, la petit mort.”
Thalia halted in her steps, her fingers twitching for the absent sword. Was he being precocious or just welcoming? It was hard to tell. She didn’t like that. Not one bit.
“Don’t worry, I know about the sword you left in your car. You can grab it if you like. It can’t kill archangels. In times like these, you can’t trust even us. Go on, it won’t bother me any.”
Her eyes widened. He threw her a deep wink, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. His eyes were no longer twinkling though, and Thalia felt the air grow cold along the back of her neck. It shattered the illusion that he trusted her just because he’d been friends with her parents. How naïve would she have to be to think he’d be an instant ally? Him knowing her parents only gave her a bit more breathing room.
“Sorry to hear about your cattle,” she responded, clearing her throat. “And thank you. I’ll go grab it, if it’s all the same to you. It’s my job to be ready and armed. I can leave it at the door.” She worried that if he handled it, the metal would burn him. Good thing she had it in a sheath.
“No need. I know you’re a mercenary, and who am I to deny you your bag of tricks? I heard you’re a damned good one too.”
“Being a killer is nothing to be proud of,” Thalia said, feeling her face flush at his compliment. Nonetheless, she was proud of her skills. Many mercenaries gave her a wide berth because of her ruthless reputation. That’s how she liked it.
“We are all killers here. Trust me. Heaven and Hell are their own kingdoms, but here on Earth, it’s a whole different kind of damnation. We have no choice but to kill or be killed.”
“Kind of harsh coming from an angel,” Matt muttered, his face darkening as he followed them into the house.
“Be careful, young man. Those who judge too quickly are usually the first to go. I’m just honest. Plus, I’m not just an angel.”
Matt’s eyes widened as he glanced toward Thalia, who mouthed the word “archangel” to him. His jaw went slack. Insulting an archangel was a death sentence most of the time. It was fortunate Matt didn’t know about that rule, or he’d have fainted from the information. At least, she didn’t think he knew about it. For someone who was aware of celestial beings, there seemed to be strange gaps in his knowledge. Celestials had a set of universal rules to be heeded by all those who could see them and their wings. Humans were mostly exempt unless they were awoken. Awakenings were rare. Most remained oblivious to the celestial beings among them. Sometimes ignorance truly was bliss.
They settled into the living room of Theroniel’s home, sitting in silence as the archangel studied them both. His eyes were as sharp as diamonds; Thalia felt like she was being dissected. Matt wiggled in his chair, his pained expression poorly hidden beneath the stoic mask he was attempting to wear. He probably felt worse beneath Theroniel’s stare than Thalia did, for he had no defenses against these intense scrutinizations. Ichiro’s probe had been worse, but Thalia’s immortality helped her withstand the uncomfortable effects.
The pressure of Theroniel’s analysis eased, and Matt leaned forward, his head in his hands as he breathed hard. Sweat stained the pits of his shirt and drenched the front and back of it too.
“What did you just do to us?” he asked, dazed.
“I saw into your thoughts to determine how sincere you are. It won’t tell me everything about you, but it lets me know if you can be trusted and if you’re worth the time I’m about to give you.”
“Did we pass?” Thalia asked, trying to ease the attention Matt was receiving. It was never a good thing to be the focus of an archangel. They were divine creatures never meant to be engaged by mortals. Maybe it was a protection mechanism or some residual effect of living in Heaven for so long, but their powers could mentally and emotionally devastate, even without much effort on the archangel’s part. It took time to adjust to their attentions.
Cursed and stuck on Earth, the archangels were trapped in a realm that couldn’t withstand their presence long without paying a steep price. It was why they were such solitary creatures, surrounded only by weak-minded fools. Those smart enough to understand the unearthly powers they possessed couldn’t be in their presence for long. It must be one of the loneliest existences ever, Thalia thought.
She looked away, conserving her strength. Loneliness was a torture she knew well, and she could sympathize. However, she had never felt sorry for them before. Why start now?
“I have questions,” she said, her voice stiff and direct.
Theroniel leaned back in his armchair, relaxing as he crossed a leg over a thigh, his hands clasped together. His eyes twinkled mischievously once more.
“And I will attempt to appease you with answers. Ask away.”
Chapter Eighteen
There was a cloud of tension in the room, the kind which sits delicately in the air awaiting a shattering moment when both parties turn on each other and the oxygen is sucked from the room. A kind of emotion, a decision which could devastate a life in a single second.
“Do you know what this is?” Thalia fished the locket out from her pocket, letting the light filtering through the open window hit it just right. It splintered the sun’s rays into a thousand tiny beams, spraying the room with pinpricks of rainbow-colored light. She supposed it wasn’t really a locket anymore. With the other artifacts fused to it in the shape of a star, it looked like nothing ever made by human hands.
Theroniel leaned forward and plucked it from Thalia’s fingers. He held it up, his sapphire-like eyes gliding over its surface, excitement glimmering in them
. He turned it around in his hand and took in each engraving, thoroughly running the pad of his finger over every groove and edge until he was satisfied.
“Yes. I know what it is,” he said, handing it back.
She waited, wondering if this was a trick. Did he want her to specifically ask him to continue, or was he waiting for a reaction from her? A moment later, she got her answer.
“It’s a key to the Skein Realm.” Theroniel relaxed back into his armchair. He pulled a clay pipe and a leather tobacco pouch from his pants pocket and, without looking up or explaining further, packed the bowl of the old pipe—a carved relic that looked centuries old—lit it, and puffed away at it. He shook the match out and tossed it into the ashtray on the side table next to him.
“Why would Ariuk have a key to the Skein?” she asked, ignoring the smoky haze drifting her way. Its sweet bite reminded her of leather and old fur, cherries and pure vanilla. She upturned her nose at the smell, afraid to cough from the tickle it was causing in the back of her throat.
Theroniel lifted an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side. “What does Ariuk have to do with the key?” he asked.
“He’s the one who gave it to me. Right before I killed him.”
Theroniel froze, his stare momentarily turning icy before he burst out laughing. “You killed Ariuk? About time. He was scum dressed up like royalty.”
“So, you knew Ariuk?”
“He was a friend, but I haven’t seen him much since the turn of the century. Technology helps close distances, though.” He reached over, tapped a tablet sitting next to the ashtray, and winked.
“Oh.” Thalia straightened her back, feeling more awkward than ever. What did it mean to be an archangel’s friend? Did being his murderer make her this guy’s enemy? God, she hoped not. At least he appeared calm about it so far. Apparently, the violence of the world did little to faze him.
“Don’t worry, we weren’t friends in a way that I would kill you for offing the guy. The man was a corpse-possessing demon, after all. He wore those bodies like they were his own. I never approved of his methods, but he could be a gentle soul at times. And he loved a good tobacco.” He held out his pipe, offering Thalia and Matt a puff. They both refused, which didn’t upset him at all. “He deserved what you gave him. Eternal damnation. Even so, I would’ve waited to question him on a great many things before doing him in. He might’ve answered most of your questions, saving you a trip all the way out here. Anything I know, he would’ve known too.”
Thalia swallowed, shame flooding her senses and blood rushing to her cheeks as she sucked in a breath. “Like how the locket fell into his possession?”
“He was a collector of artifacts. Sure, he collected humans too, swapped bodies when he pleased, and even trafficked women when he liked, but he also had a taste for antiquities… museum-quality relics. You could say he was an anthropologist of sorts. Too bad he liked the unsavory side of life too. I’m glad you brought an end to his many conquests.”
“Yeah, me too,” Matt mumbled. The irritation in his voice told Thalia he wasn’t faring well being so close to the archangel. She’d have to make this quick.
“And the locket? Where did he get it?”
“Who knows. Probably from some scavenger. What’s important is who it belongs to and where they are.”
“Okay.” She sighed, knowing she’d have to take the bait. “Who does the locket belong to?”
“It belonged to the archangel Sidriel, an old, old friend of mine. He was sent into the Skein through the gate between Heaven and that realm. He was sent to retrieve a person, a lost soul who belonged to no one and nowhere, but was lost inside the labyrinth. The blacksmiths of Heaven forged the locket as a key so he could return to Heaven from the Skein Realm.”
“What happened to this Sidriel?”
Theroniel rubbed his chin, his mostly white beard shining under the sun beaming across it.
“Well, that’s the mystery of it all, isn’t it? To this day, no one knows. Sidriel never returned to Heaven, and the key was lost. No trace of him was ever found. Any angels seeking him couldn’t enter the Skein without this key unless the veil was opened from the other side, which hasn’t happened for ages.”
“Why didn’t the blacksmiths of Heaven make another key?” Matt asked, his complexion looking gaunt as sweat soaked the nape of his shirt. He could pass out any minute, even though he was seated. Thalia bit her lip with concern but focused on Theroniel as he spoke.
“Because only one key could ever be made to any gate in Heaven, and only those of Skein blood can open the gate between the Skein Realm and Earth.”
“But,” Thalia interjected, “the Skein opened once when my parents came to Earth with me as a child.” His answers confused her; she still didn’t know why her parents had brought her here. Desperate, she continued. “Why would my parents do that? Why would they risk crossing the veil to Earth, and how did they do it if they were human and not of Skein blood?”
“Isn’t it obvious? The Skein is a mysterious place, and few who have crossed have ever returned. The Skein is not like Earth. The people there rarely reproduce. Your parents were mortals stolen from Earth centuries before. Your true parents must have been from the Skein, and the ones you called Mom and Dad were imposters who stole you from whoever they were running from. With your blood, they were able to cross back to Earth.”
Matt and Thalia sat in silence, unable to believe what he was saying.
“She was born in the Skein?” Matt muttered, looking more agitated than ever.
“Matt, you might want to go sit on the porch,” Theroniel suggested unemotionally. “Sometimes mortals can’t withstand being in the presence of an archangel.”
“What?” His eyes were wild, his face flushed. He would collapse soon if Thalia didn’t remove him.
“You’re not feeling well because Theroniel’s powers overwhelm mortals,” she said. “Go outside. Trust me, you’ll feel better.” She hopped to her feet and helped Matt to his. Turning back toward Theroniel, she threw him a curt nod. “I’ll be right back.”
“I have an eternity to wait,” the archangel stated, looking as relaxed as he’d been from the moment they’d entered. It was disturbing seeing how little he cared about his effect on Matt.
“Come on, sit here.” Thalia let Matt slide down into the chair sitting on the porch. She ran back inside and grabbed a glass of water for him. Theroniel watched her as she returned to the porch. She coaxed Matt to take a drink then watched him closely as he took a few deep breaths.
“Why do I feel so funny?”
“I told you, archangels are powerful, and they affect humans in bad ways. Sorry. I should’ve remembered you might not be able to tolerate it.”
“Why doesn’t it affect you?”
“The longer and more frequently you’re exposed to them, your body adjusts and creates a type of tolerance to their power. It’s why archangels can have entourages of mortals and not affect them much. I’m used to Ereziel’s powers since he’s my sponsor. Once you adjust, you’re good to go.”
“So, I have to sit out here? What if you need me?” His eyes had refocused, and his skin color was beginning to normalize.
“Trust me, I’ll holler if I need you. Just wait here, okay?”
He nodded, not looking too happy about the situation. She squeezed his shoulder and turned back toward the door. Before entering, she grabbed the doorway with one hand, feeling a tiny wave of dizziness herself.
“Not many immortals can stand my company for long, as you have, dear Thalia,” Theroniel said as he watched her make her way back to the chair she’d been sitting in.
“I’ll be fine. Tell me, why would my parents bury bits of the key for me to find later?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Your parents stole the key from Sidriel.” Theroniel tilted his head, drilling his eyes into her. The room tilted, but she blinked the odd sensation away, fighting to focus on the archangel.
Thalia frowned. “Nothing i
s ever obvious.” Could her parents have done such a thing and stranded Sidriel in the Skein? “It still doesn’t explain how they acquired me.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t.” Theroniel peered at her curiously. Had it occurred to him that she was neither human nor angel? What was she then, if not mortal? What lived in the Skein?
“Do you ever want to return to Heaven?” Thalia asked, knowing he wouldn’t have an answer about her true heritage.
He continued to study her, drilling his piercing blue eyes into her as though they could pry out all her secrets and desires in one fell swoop. It was odd that he was so easygoing and unperturbed, though his power was overwhelming. At least he wasn’t stirring in her mind anymore. Still, being in his presence made it difficult to concentrate.
“It is unfortunate that my brethren were here when Heaven’s gate closed. They all tried to return, begged and prayed for it. They tried everything to get back, but there was no going back. We are not mortal, so entering via Purgatory is not an option. It’s the only path into Heaven now.”
“But you’re a Fallen, right? You chose to be here. Why would God do that to his followers? Aren’t archangels his most precious lieutenants?”
Theroniel looked away and out the window, toward the road. The corners of his mouth twitched. She had shaken him. How often would an archangel get upset after all these years? It couldn’t be easy getting over the fact they were locked out of paradise forever, never to return. His mortal love was probably long dead, and he remained here, trapped, immortal and without wings. Did the angels hold out hope that one day God would reopen the gates and welcome them back with open arms, regardless of how they lived their lives on Earth?
She guessed it didn’t really matter, but she could see the subject was still a sore one among the accursed. It seemed God was no longer so forgiving of his subjects.
