| |
Sam is still in the room where I left him. He’s comfortably reclined in the armchair near the lit fire in that enormous fireplace. The logs are crackling like miniature fireworks going off celebrating the 5th of November, relaxing me somehow.
Sam’s wings are folded behind his back, spilling over the back of the chair. His long legs are stretched in front of him, crossed at the ankles; his hands are folded over his taut stomach. A half-empty mug of coffee sits on the small table in front of him.
His hair is dry now and the waves on top of his head are more defined, falling over his forehead.
Somewhere along our way back, Tabby vanished, so now it’s just me and Sam in the room.
I expect to hear some mocking from him of my pathetic, failed attempt to escape, but he says nothing, just looking at me, waiting, so I speak first, breaking the silence.
“I can’t get out of this place, can I?” I ask him.
“No, you can’t. And I’m not going to help you. I need to keep you safe. That’s what I’m here for”, he says quietly.
I walk further into the room, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. My bed is made now, leaving no signs of anyone sleeping in it last night. The heavy, gold-stitched throw is spread on top of it, with an array of cushions of different shades of red arranged at the head of the bed.
“Why me? How did I get in the middle of this mess?” I mumble, shaking my head in disbelief.
I’m at a loss at how someone like me, who made so sure to keep their head down for the last few years, ended up here.
“How about I’ll answer your questions if you eat your breakfast”, he gestures to the tray full of food on the small table and an armchair across from him.
“Okay, but I need all the information”, I warn him.
I decided to keep an open mind. Whichever way you slice it, I’m stuck here and I need to find a way out of this situation. And for that, I need the information. All of it.
“If I know the answer, I’ll give it to you”, he simply says.
I walk over and take a seat in the armchair across from Sam.
The food on the tray looks inviting and smells delicious. Cafetiere, filled with freshly brewed coffee, spreads its steamy aroma around the room. Croissants, jam in a crystal vase with a tiny silver spoon, slices of ham on a plate, all of it looks fresh and smells divine. I’m hungrier than I thought.
“Is there poison in the food?” I ask, eyeing the tray, before touching any of it.
I want Sam to know that I don’t trust him. My show of mistrust has very little to do with the food. I’m not naïve to think that even if it’s spiked, he’ll fall to his knees under my suspicious stare, cry and beg for my forgiveness. But I doubt he would stoop that low, there’s no reason for that, as I’m already trapped.
“I’d never do anything that might hurt you”, he says, sounding sincere. His wistful eyes gaze openly into mine.
“Whatever”, I mumble, pouring the coffee into a clean mug. I scoop out some jam from a crystal vase, spreading it carefully over a croissant and taking the first bite of it. The croissant is freshly baked and melts in my mouth. As I close my eyes and chew, the little hum of appreciation escapes me.
“Nice?” Sam’s low, hoarse voice interrupts the enjoyment of my breakfast and I open my eyes, suddenly aware of his presence. Sam’s gaze is on me, hot and intense. I gulp uncomfortably, pinned to my seat under his gaze. His soft gaze from under his hooded eyes is stroking my face, caressing me.
“Do you know that I like you?” he asks, as his warm gaze lingers on me. A little smile lifts the corners of his mouth, producing that irresistible dimple.
“No. I don’t”, my squeaky voice betrays me. I sound all girly, scared and excited at the same time, and I want to kick myself for that.
“You are not very observant”, he chuckles. “But please eat. I’m not going to distract you anymore”.
He gets up, walks over to the burning fire and places a few more logs in it. His wings are folded behind his back with the lower ones only an inch from the ground.
My appetite is now gone, so I sip my coffee, following Sam’s movement with my eyes over the rim of my mug.
“What were you doing in my school?” I ask his back.
“So I guess we’re ready to start the quiz”, he chuckles, as he turns around. The side of his face and body are illuminated by the soft yellow glow of the fire, changing the colour of his wings to an orangey gold.
“I was sent to your school to find and protect you from Mia and Rafe.” He moves to stand behind his armchair. He leans in, resting his folded arms on the top of the back rest.
“Rafe? Is he an angel too?” I pull the mug away from my face. I’m surprised by how calm and matter-of-fact I’m discussing the possibility of one of the students in my school being an angel.
“Yes, he is.”
Sam doesn’t expand on it, doesn’t give any more information. But this dry minimum feels cautiously measured, managed. I feel like I’m being managed, like all the information that currently is being given to me, is given strictly on a ‘need to know basis’ and there’s more, much more, hidden in the shadows.
I tuck this suspicion away for now, deciding not to confront him just yet, and try to gather more information by myself. Knowledge is power and information its ultimate currency.
I decide to start from the beginning.
“Okay”, I sigh. “What do they both want with me?”
Sam steps around his armchair and walks over to me. He kneels in front of me and takes my hands in his. His smell envelops me and I’m fighting with myself not to close my eyes again and melt like a finishing school debutante, as I’m inhaling his glorious scent.
His hands are big and warm and exciting tingles spread from my hands up through my body.
I can see how every girl would want a caring and loyal boyfriend, a boy who only has eyes for her, who looks after her, protects her. I would have loved one too, but I know better than to rely on someone else to save me. That will never happen.
I remember seeing an old-fashioned poster in a local museum once. It was from the thirties and it was made to promote the safety on water in coastal communities and to encourage children to learn how to swim. A basic, bold drawing of the sea, the sky, a bright and perky sun and a little boy who’s submerged deeply in the water with only his head poking above the waves, gasping for air. Lazy seagulls hover above him and a colourful Ferris wheel twinkles in the distance on the pier. The boy is clearly drowning in the sea and the big red round letters at the bottom of the poster are formed into a sharp and powerful slogan: ‘It's your job to stay afloat’.
Bold and to the point. Maybe it’s a bit morbid and somewhat unsupportive, but I certainly appreciate the no-nonsense importance of that message: “Don’t expect to be saved, make sure that you can save yourself”. And that was the best advice anyone has given me, better than my mother’s usual: ‘Pray for forgiveness, you little sinner!’
I took that message to heart. Later, life taught me that it was the soundest advice ever, that relying on someone else makes you weak, makes you an easy prey, makes you a victim. I’m done being a victim.
“Can we please agree that you need to be open-minded with all the information I give you?” He asks, gazing into my eyes.
I nod, ready to play the game.
“You need to be extra open-minded about this one”, he pauses, gazing at me.
But as I say nothing he speaks again.
“You are an angel”, he utters, cautiously studying me.
Flabbergasted, I stare at him for a minute. That was not what I expected, at all.
The universe must have shifted somewhere between the fire and me waking up in his house or I’ve crossed into an alternate one where an average girl from a boring sleepy coastal town is an angel and a hunk, like Sam, likes her.
Giggles escape me. I can’t help it.
At first it’s only a few but soon they’re pushing up to the top, like a million of bubbles in a shaken can of fizz. I’m laughing, head back, a loud rumble rising from my throat, shaking my body, tears gathering in my eyes.
He lets go of my hands and pulls back, sitting on his heels. Confusion is showing on his face.
My laugh rises, picking up volume and pace. It’s getting hysterical, even I can hear it. Tears overflow and start rolling down my face. I slap at my thighs and wipe at my face, as I throw my head back and laugh some more, freely, to the full, like I haven’t laughed in a while.
It’s very liberating to laugh to the full and not care who is watching.
I laugh out loud, until I’m all spent, until my throat is dry and sore, and my jaw hurts.
It takes me a while but eventually I sober up and, with a final giggle, I wipe at my eyes, looking back at Sam, searching his face for a suppressed laughter or smile, but he sits there, in front of me, stiff and uncomfortable, unsure of himself and maybe, even afraid of me.
A quizzical expression is marring his perfect face, setting two deep wrinkles between his eyebrows. He is looking at me, lost and silent, searching my face, not knowing what to do or say.
Sticky silence stretches between us.
The longer I look at his confused face, the faster I sober up.
“You aren’t serious, are you?” I stammer, pulling myself back away from him, deeper into the chair as he nods.
“Whoa. And I thought I was open-minded before”, I mumble.
“Are you completely sure that I’m an angel? Maybe there was some mix up somewhere?” I ramble on. “Maybe you got the wrong girl? I don’t even have wings”, I gesture over my shoulder. Petrified chatter rolls off me, desperate to show him that I’m not an angel and shouldn’t be here. How good that would be if I was allowed to leave? Just like that. Back to my ordinary life.
“And my parents are absolutely normal. Well, maybe not exactly normal, but human for sure. I’m not an expert in heavenly reproduction but I do understand genetics. Shouldn’t at least one of the parents be an angel for this kind of stuff to pass down?” I babble.
He puts his warm hands over mine, covering them with his completely.
I stop talking. He should stop doing this, I lose my train of thought when he touches me.
“There’s no mix up, Ariel. You have an angel’s Qal, or essence if you wish, hidden in you – I can sense it”, he says. “When your soul was forming, an angel was assassinated. That angel’s followers reached out to the Ophanims, the keepers of universal laws, and asked them to intervene in an effort to preserve the essence. The Ophanims decided to save the essence of the angel, mainly for the balance of forces, but they placed it in a mortal child for safekeeping until they investigated the matter and decided what to do with it. You were born with that angel’s essence in you”, he utters carefully, keeping his gaze fixed on me.
“I grant you, nobody thought that the essence would manifest itself so fast. The Ophanims probably thought that they easily had until you died of old age. It would’ve been almost a century for you, but it would’ve been only a day for them. Then, the essence would have naturally separated itself from your life source, without affecting you. So your essence waking up this early is a shock for them and pretty much for everyone in our realm, and now everybody is scrambling around, trying to figure out what’s going on”.
For the first time since I’ve known him, information is flowing out of him instead of the usual smirk as a standard means of reply.
“Hold on. But how can you make sure that I have that essence inside me? I can’t see it. Can you?” I ask, dubious.
“Not right this second. Your essence is currently only active when you’re asleep or unconscious. It was seeping from you earlier when you were asleep. I saw it then. The essence is still suppressed, small and weak, like a flicker of a candle in a wind, very faint to see, especially from the angel’s realm, and easy to blow out.
“But whoever wanted that essence extinguished was looking for you and so was I. Over time, they narrowed it down to your town and I followed them. I knew that Rafe was an angel, I could smell it on him, but Mia had covered her essence perfectly. Mind you, she is an assassin and I wouldn’t have expected anything less from her. I didn’t know who you were, but neither did they. However, two nights ago your essence erupted like a volcano, shooting like a beacon through yours and our realm and, in that instance, you were in play. From that moment, Mia knew who she was looking for, so she went in for a kill”.
He falls quiet. I sit, staring into space, digesting all that unbelievable information.
I wanted the information currency to grow my power, but I didn’t expect that currency to be fluffy pink unicorn droppings.
“Whatever happened that night was a very strong catalyst for the essence. It allowed for the essence to take over. What happened to you two nights ago?” he asks gently, stroking my hands in his. His thumb softly follows over my fingers and my knuckles, sending shivers down my spine.
“My sister got hurt”, I reply. That’s as much as I’m prepared to give him at this time.
I scramble in my brain, trying to arrange and prioritise this steaming pile of magic nonsense.
“But why do they want to kill me?” I can barely make my tongue to turn, to put words like ‘kill’ and ‘me’ in the same sentence.
“They are the ones who assassinated that essence in the first place, so they are coming for you to finish the job”, he says gently. I imagine it is how a doctor might deliver a terminal prognosis to his patient.
“You said that the angel was already assassinated. What’s the point in all of it now? I’m not an angel. Why kill me?” I whisper. I try to wrap my mind around this news and the fact that somewhere out there walks a bloodthirsty ‘they’ who are plotting my demise.
Memories of Mia’s pitiless, homicidal cold stare, the blisters on my arm, and the surrounding fire pushing at me is a crude reminder that ‘they’ are no longer plotting. ‘They’ have moved into an active stage of their “kill Ariel” plan.
“Essence is...” he flickers his fingers in the air, “essence. It’s vital for any angel and keeps our core within. With the essence intact, an angel has been known to be resurrected. You extinguish the essence, you kill an angel forever. No turning back. Their assassination didn’t go to plan and now they’re here to clear up the mess and finish off the job”.
“So they’re trying to kill me for my essence? Can’t I just give it to them?” I’m struggling to be comfortable with the idea of someone trying to kill me for something that I didn’t know I had and don’t really want.
“No. The essence is now to stay with you. It’s now connected to you and intertwined with your life source. You now feed off each other, it’s replenishing your substance and you are nourishing the essence. No one can separate the essence and you. Now, it can be only extinguished with you. You’re tied up to each other. If the essence dies, you will die”.
He stops for a moment and I know that there’s more to come.
“And as it has awakened and some of it has come to the forefront, it will start changing you”, Sam says softly, as he strokes the top of my hands with his thumbs. “An essence transforms the host, irrelevant of the species, into an angel with the previous owner’s powers, memories, abilities, the lot. It’s carrying the powers and abilities, almost like your human DNA. It will change you, slowly, over time. It will evolve as it takes on more of its host abilities. It’s expanding. The essence slowly takes control”.
He sees something in my face as he adds in a rush, “But ultimately, the essence can protect you as well. It will give you powers to fight them as equals, to have even chances against any of them, including Mia. The essence will give you enormous powers. Powers you would have never thought existed in this world. Your world will change but it will open up to you in different colours and experiences that you never knew. One day, you’ll even learn how to fly, and I promise you that, one day, you’ll be happy that the essence landed on you”.
Bewildered, I can’t hear much of what he is saying. His words “if the essence dies, you will die” are playing in my head over and over on repeat, like a needle, stuck on the same terrifying song on vinyl.
His face sobers as he speaks again.
“They lost the element of surprise for now but that doesn’t mean they gave up on the job. It would’ve made their work easier if they’d killed you before the essence had woken up, but the final goal is annihilation and nothing has changed that”, he remarks.
“So, no matter what I do, they’ll try to kill me?” My small scared voice sounds pathetic, even to my ears.
“I’m afraid so”, his sympathetic eyes are on me. He looks at me like I’m damned, and I want to cry.
My hands are shaking in his. He feels sorry for me and I can’t stand his pity.
I pull my hands free and get out of the chair.
He lets me go, effortlessly rising to his feet, but I still feel his eyes on me as I stand confused, scanning the pompous room.
My throat feels dry and full of choking sand. I would love to have a glass of water, but all I can see on the table is coffee. The cafetiere clanks against the rim of the mug as I pour coffee with my shaking hand. I gulp it down, wishing it could be something stronger.
I turn to him. “Where can I get some water?”
He rings a small silver bell next to the mantel, which I hadn’t noticed earlier.
A few seconds later, a gorgeous tall girl with the face of a model and the fluid movement of a dancer saunters in, carrying a tray with a crystal jug full of water and a beaker, angel wings flutter behind her back.
Now I’m paying close attention to her wings. She only has two, like Tabby, and unlike Sam’s hers are slimmer, more elegant and not white, but ash-grey.
She places the tray on the table, turns and leaves without a word, keeping her eyes professionally fixed in space.
Once the door closes behind her, I narrow my eyes at Sam. “Is this room bugged?”
He looks at me confused, probably thinking that I’ve finally lost my mind. His forehead creases as he silently studies me and I almost can hear cogs in his brain turning.
“Bugs? Cameras? listening devices?” I prompt him.
“No”, he stumbles, slowly shaking his head. He clearly doesn’t understand what I’m on about.
“How did she know what to bring?” I demand.
His face relaxes a bit.
“I spoke to her in my mind and told her to bring you some water”, he gazes openly into my eyes, with the sincerity of a child telling the truth. Just like my sister when she used to tell me about her imaginary friend and couldn’t comprehend why I couldn’t see him. With everything I’ve learnt so far, maybe her friend wasn’t that imaginary after all.
Of course, he can communicate telepathically!
I think that the part of my brain, responsible for reactions to surprises, has died off. I pour myself some water, pleased that my hands are less shaky, and gulp it down.
He moves back next to the fireplace and now he watches me, waiting for another outburst. His body radiates the pressure of a tight guitar string. I think about giving him another tantrum, but I’m so shell shocked and tired that I don’t know if I have the energy for one.
I drain the beaker and place it on the table.
“Okay. So let me sum it all up, please do correct me if I miss anything out. Angels are real. You are one and so is Tabby, and Mia and Rafe, and even that one”, I gesture to the closed door, “And apparently I’m becoming one, according to you, as I have the angelic essence in me, which is changing me, which I can’t take out or stop. And a few assassins are now after me, wanting to kill me because of that essence and because they couldn’t finish that essence off when they had their bloody chance. And you can communicate telepathically. All correct? I haven’t missed anything?” My voice rises with every word spoken and I practically yell the last question, glaring at him, leaning over the small table.
I’m angry. Livid. I’m in deep shit, up to my neck and none of it is of my making. An unexpected thought hits me.
“And why are you here? What’s in it for you?” I narrow my eyes at him.
He is more comfortable with my attitude and clearly, that’s the question he was expecting from me, as his body relaxes a bit, with his face taking on his usual smirk.
“Well, let’s say I’m playing for the opposing team”, he says, as he folds his arms, leaning his shoulder on the fireplace’s mantle.
“And how is that?” I demand. “Are you the angelic police or something?”
“Not exactly”, he chuckles. “I just don’t believe that annihilating the essence is the answer to a disagreement and neither do the angels who I’m working with. We think that there’s a need for every essence out there and we feel that your essence should be protected”.
“And have I mentioned that I like you?” His quiet, velvety voice brushes over me. His smirk is coy and playful as his eyes stroke me.
Heat pinches my cheeks as I drop my gaze. He said it again. Never have I had a boy say it to me, so I’m really unsure on the etiquette on this. Do I say ‘thank you’ or is ‘I like you too’ compulsory in these situations?
I clear my throat and shift in my chair while keeping my eyes down. But I don’t know what to say, so I decide to change the subject.
“So what am I supposed to do now?” I ask, looking down at my clasped hands and my fingers intertwined on my lap.
Intertwined together, now inseparable like that stupid essence and me, I think bitterly.
“For now, you need to sit tight. Here. And I need to find Mia and Rafe and get that threat eliminated. Then you can go back to your old life, if you still decide to do so”, he instructs.
I hesitate.
“I want to ask you a question.”
“Anything.”
He takes a seat in the armchair.
“Your wings. Can you fly?” I lift my head, gazing at him.
“Of course”, he answers with a patient smile and I feel like I’m three again when I was told about the magic of a rainbow.
“Can you show me?” I slide closer in my seat, eager for a demonstration.
“Later, if you still want it. I’d need more space”, he sweeps his arm around to say how small this room is for him.
“Oh, of course. And telepathy. How does that work?” I’m fascinated. “Can you read my mind?”
That possibility unsettles me.
“No, I can’t read minds, but I can speak to minds. It’s like a radio frequency: you need to know the wave frequency of your recipient. And it’s good manners to ask for permission first, before establishing that kind of contact. We are using it mainly for communicating between ourselves, but sometimes it’s been known to be used to communicate with humans. But there you just open the sequence, send your message out there, not knowing if anyone will receive it, who is the recipient or what he might do with it.
“It was more common thousands of years ago to deliver the ‘Word of God’ to the humans”, he says and rolls his eyes, “but now humans are more cynical and with the help of pharmaceutical advancement, you’re now able to block those messages, so we rarely do it nowadays”.
“And your wings? How come you didn’t have them when you were in my school?” I ask.
“Who said I didn’t have them?” His lips lift into a playful half smile. Mischief dances behind his eyes. He wants to play.
I roll my eyes and take a patient breath, settling in to play a ‘guessing game’ with him.
“Okay then. So you had them at school”, I look at him and he inclines his head at me, confirming my words.
“But I still can’t see where you could’ve hidden them. You weren’t wearing bulky clothes, no big coat”, I muse to myself. “It must be some sort of angelic magic...”
A sudden thought hits me.
“Or maybe they’re detachable. You know, like the hood on a coat – a couple of poppers and, hey presto, you’ve got a coat with a hood”, I’m grinning at him, well chuffed with my detective skills and logical thinking.
A wide unguarded smile spreads on his face as he starts chuckling. “Poppers... Like a hood...” He shakes his head as he laughs. At me!
With a huff, I fold my arms over my chest and, settling deeper in my seat, give him one of my most threatening glares, annoyed that he is lifting his spirits at my expense.
“I don’t know. Can you just tell me and quit laughing at me?” I narrow my eyes at him.
“Please don’t be offended Mermaid, but it’s funny, “poppers on a hood”. Maybe we should look into engineering something like that”, he is beaming at me with his glorious smile and I realise that I’m smiling back at him.
“It’s a lot simpler than that. We always have our wings on us. They’re attached to us just like our heads. We are not hiding them because we can’t hide them. But you, humans, are choosing not to see them. You are born with the ability to see a lot more of this world, to see beyond your reality, to see us and our wings but, as you get older, you choose to block out anything that doesn’t fit into your simple little world.
“And you’re taught by the people around you, time and time again, that all that you see is just your imagination, that it’s not real, it’s not possible. They show you the fabricated proof, ramble on with the evidence and statistics and they’re so convincing while doing so, that slowly you start believing them. But we’re always there, all of us. Humans are like little scared children playing hide and seek. They cover their eyes with their hands and because they can’t see the world, they think that their trick has hidden them from the world as well”.
He gazes at me, relaying something important and willing for me to understand it.
“Just because you refuse to see us, doesn’t mean that we’re not there”, he says.
I’m sitting here, looking at him, digesting all that unbelievable new information.
“Well, I need to go”, he says, getting up from his chair. “Mia is still out there and she is not going to eliminate herself. You didn’t eat anything, so I’m going to send you some more breakfast. Please try to eat and try to get some rest. I thought you might want to change out of your school uniform, so you’ll find some clothes and shoes in the wardrobe. I believe they’re all your size. Take a walk around the gardens if you wish. Tabby can show you around, and later we have dinner to attend to in your honour. Everyone is excited to meet you.”
“And what if I don’t want to go?”
He takes a small step closer.
“I hope you decide to join me”, he says, his soft low voice caresses me. “I would like the opportunity to dance with you.”
And before I can think of an answer, he picks up and rings a silver bell and the earlier supermodel waltzes in with another tray. She places that one down, picks up the old one and leaves without a word or glance at either of us.
“Don’t miss me too much, Mermaid”, his arrogance is back and with it the Sam I know. “I’ll see you later”, and with a last wink, he walks out, leaving me alone in the vast imperial room.
I make a mental note to talk to him again tonight. He can’t possibly be serious about my indefinite stay here.