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I’m out of the room, but still reeling. Rage is pouting at me in disbelief. The boxer skipping rope lies limp on the ground. My Rage stomps off and turns off the Metallica. She is no longer pleased with me.
I’m livid and boiling inside. I take a few steps down the hall, but I can’t suppress that feeling any longer. I swing my leg and kick the wall. Once, twice. I feel a bit better, Rage winks at me.
I hate you Sam! Nothing good comes from knowing you. Nothing! I kick the wall once more.
I feel the adrenaline fleeing my body like a tide, leaving behind the cold and tired body. I lean my shoulder on the wall, waiting for Tabby.
She catches up with me. She’s not saying a word, not looking at me, taking the open lift’s doors on the right and I follow her.
I step into a mirror and steel cubicle, which looks like that boring office lift in the tall office building in the centre of London that I used to ride occasionally when I had to go to see my mum’s solicitor.
The panel on the left is covered in gold, shiny buttons, embossed with some ancient looking symbols, maybe hieroglyphs. Every single one is unique and I cannot spot any repetition in them.
Tabby takes a step around me and to my surprise, reaches on her tippy toes and presses the top right button on the dial. Maybe there’s a garden on the roof or pool or whatever else rich people or angels might have there.
I catch myself on the thought that I no longer gawk at Tabby’s or Sam’s wings. I see and notice them just as much as I would notice someone’s arm or leg. I even wonder if the absence of their wings would bother me now and I would be automatically searching for them, expecting a relaxed bobbing behind their back.
We don’t speak during the short ride, standing awkwardly in separate corners, while the lift takes us up. I don’t know what to say, uncomfortable with my earlier outburst.
After a short ride, the lift stops, pings and opens its doors. Tabby steps out first and I follow her.
We are in a spacious and grandeur foyer. It smells of wealth and money. Clearly “wealth and gold” is the theme of this building. Gold, glass, crystal and marble catch the sunlight, which is streaming through the windows and doors, spraying across the room, blinding visitors. The chandeliers that I know so well are hanging heavily off the ceilings, adding to the blinding dazzle of the place.
Two opposing walls of the long foyer are covered in celestial themed murals, with female and male angels flying, dancing, laughing or kissing each other. These murals are like propaganda of the benefits and perks of an angelic lifestyle although I haven’t seen any dancing and laughing yet. The plants the size of an average tree grow in large ceramic planters, which are placed along the walls between the murals.
As we get closer to the door, Tabby relaxes a bit and eventually her cautious footsteps turn into skipping bounces. Our footsteps on the marble floor are echoing in the empty and silent foyer.
“Where is everybody?” I ask Tabby, as I turn my head from side to side, looking at different murals along the walls.
“Who?” she asks back, without looking at me. Tabby is busy skipping ahead of me while humming something to herself, her arms swinging in time with every skip. That girl is in a world of her own.
“I don’t know”, I mumble. “Other angels, I guess. It’s such a large building and the foyer’s so massive, I thought more angels would be here”, I muse.
“Oh. No, it’s Baza’s building. He lives here, plus some of his malakhims and that’s it”, she answers over her shoulder, still busy skipping.
“Mala – what?” I stop to look at her.
It takes Tabby a few more skips to notice that I’m no longer next to her. She stops and walks back to me.
“Ma-la-kheem-s”. Tabby spells it out for me, carefully forming her mouth and stretching her syllables as she looks at me. “Not malawots”, she giggles.
“And what are those “malakhims”?” I ask, trying to absorb and classify another bit of information and fit it into the little shelf inside the safe deposit box in my head.
“Malakhims are his angels. They work and fight together against the common enemy. Like a family... or an army”, she grins, pleased with her explanation.
“And who’s Baza?” I ask her, as the automatic doors silently slide open, letting us through. The park I saw from my window stretches in front of us, brightly lit by the blistering sunshine.
Taking a few steps out of the building, I look back, craning my head up, taking in the tall glass and metal high-tech skyscraper, with long and short balconies and ledges circling every floor of the building. The sun catches and reflects off the building’s polished metal and glass. The green shades of grass and trees reflect in the building’s windows.
“Is my room up there?” I point to the top of the building.
Tabby twitches to keep on moving. This ‘20 Questions’ game clearly bores her. With a heavy resigned sigh, she stops and follows my finger with her eyes.
“Yeah”.
“How come we came up in the lift but we’re now down at the bottom of the building?” I quiz her.
Tabby shrugs, “I dunno”.
She spins back, resuming her skipping and humming. Clearly there’s nothing more to discuss according to her. This girl is seriously frustrating. One moment she takes time to sit down and talk to me, giving out mature and sound advice and the next minute, I can’t get two words out of her, so I decide to ask Sam later.
I follow Tabby into the park, plodding down the footpath between manicured lawns and flower beds, looking down at my feet and thinking about my predicament. I’m still struggling to accept the reality of it all: the angels, Mia, Sam, angels wanting to kill me for an angelic essence that I, apparently, possess. I think about my sister, wondering how and when I’ll be able to get to her. I feel disjointed and trapped.
I squint into the horizon as I notice a male figure slowly coming our way. I shield my eyes with my hand against the bright sun and I see a stout male angel in a suit, walking our way, leaning on a cane in his left hand.
As he comes closer, I spot four wings, like Sam’s, folded behind his back, only his are bigger than Sam’s, with folds rising well above his head and, even when folded, at least a third of the wing is protruding to the sides around his chubby body. I bet he can wrap himself in his own wings like a bat. His black wings glisten with a blue sheen when they are hit by the sun’s beam, shining like a magpie’s tail. He wears an elegant grey pinstripe suit with a waistcoat underneath, buttoned tight over his round stomach.
This angel isn’t as tall as Sam, but he is much older. His silver grey hair is cut in a short and conservative haircut, and his grey beard is round and neatly trimmed. His walking cane makes a clacking noise every time it hits the gravel, giving some weird, repeating soundtrack to his walk.
“Baza”, Tabby squeaks, spotting the man and sprinting towards him with the full speed of her young legs. She runs into him and hugs him tight.
He bends to her, stroking her hair, speaking softly to her so only she can hear. She looks up at him with a beaming smile, nods and they both start back to where I stand.
An open and kind smile softens his face, deepening the wrinkles around his eyes further. He looks like a Father Christmas from an old Hollywood movie, all cosy, warm and sweet. On its own accord, my face stretches into an answering smile.
“You must be Ariel”, he says in a deep, velvety baritone, which suits his Father Christmas look so well. He stretches out his hand to me for a handshake. His wrinkly hand is dry and surprisingly soft. He smells of a clean soap, rosemary, mint and sandalwood. “My name is Baz, but everyone calls me Baza here. I think it’s something to do with a new fashion in your world.” He smiles kindly as a grandfather would, while describing his beloved grandchildren’s shenanigans.
I always feel uncomfortable when a stranger knows my name while I’m in the dark about them. My strategy in changing this misbalance is always to quiz them in return with as much arrogance and brusque as I can, but today I cannot bring myself to be so rude to this Father Christmas, so I stand there, smiling politely, as if meeting an old, distant relative, waiting for whatever more he has to say.
“Sam and Tabby have both spoken highly of you and your resilience. It is truly a compliment to your character, the strength with which you have taken on the news and your current situation. I know that Sam is working hard on resolving our predicament with Mia”, he says, sounding like a man from old times, so articulate and well spoken. His baritone is soft and velvety.
I stand there, mute, unsure of what is expected of me here, a polite smile plastered to my lips.
“Would you kindly grant me the pleasure of your lovely company on my walk?” he offers me his bent arm.
“Sure.” I hook my arm through the loop of his and we start our stroll, following Tabby’s earlier chosen direction.
Tabby clearly isn’t interested in our company or conversation. She goes back to her skipping, speeding ahead of us, her denim dungaree skirt bouncing away. I walk slowly, measuring my pace to Baza’s.
There’s an awkward space between us as I’m careful not to step on his lower wings, as the tips of his wings are sweeping over the ground.
“How do you like it here, Ariel?” Baza sweeps his hand over the park.
“It’s very beautiful in here”, I agree.
“And how do you find your rooms? Do you have everything you might need?” He turns to look at me.
“I do have everything, thank you. And my room is lovely”. I can see that he is doing some polite chit chat before coming up to a real conversation and I inwardly brace myself.
“I hope you’ll like it here and perhaps, in time, you will see us as your family and maybe, even when the situation with Mia is resolved, you’ll choose to stay with us”, he glances at me, gauging my reaction.
I keep my eyes firmly on the ground.
“Thank you very much for such a kind offer”, I mumble to my trainers. “I already see Tabby as my sister and I think the world of her, and I’m very grateful to Sam for saving my life back in school and to you for giving me a place to stay but I’d rather go back when I’m able to do so. I have my family out there, my sister. She needs me now and I need to be with her”.
He stops and turns to me, releasing my arm. I stop with him.
“Oh, yes. I’ve heard of your sister’s plight. I think it’s very unfortunate what has happened to her”, he remarks in his soft voice. “It saddens me deeply when such horrible things happen to such young and innocent souls. I just would like you to know that we are all here for you and if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
He takes my hand in his and I can feel his gaze on my bent head. “We are a family here and we look after our own, no matter what.”
I hesitate.
“Thank you very much. It’s very kind of you”, I mumble. I’ve mentioned my sister to Tabby, but how much about her plight does he really know?
“I know a lot of things, my dear child”, he says with a sad smile, meeting my eyes and answering my unspoken question as if reading my mind. “I am old and have been around long enough to know that there is nothing new to human nature. It’s predictable. It is always kill or be killed, victim or assailant. Human nature is a gruesome one, violent. The yearning to dominate everything in one’s demesne is as strong as one’s basic needs and desires.”
He turns and starts again down the path, leaning slightly on his cane with every step and I follow, lumbering behind.
I want to turn around and walk. Walk away from him, from this place, from Sam, from everything. But I force myself to keep my feet moving, one in front of the other, while sitting hard on my Rage, as she gives me her sly smile.
“I know a lot more about you than you might think.” His voice is soft and tender as I reluctantly catch up with him. “I know about the suffering you have been enduring for years, the hardship and misery that you encountered at such a young age. Everything you went through.”
He gives me a glance at everything.
I stumble and almost fall. My face heats up and my heart picks up the pace as I stare after him.
He tells me that he knows everything and I’m petrified to even ask what he knows.
I don’t know how he could possibly know. But even that doesn’t concern me as much as how I’m supposed to handle it. How do I react to his disclosure? What does he want from me after that kind of statement? I never advertised it because I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want judgmental, pitied or speculative looks. I desperately wanted to be me or even better, to be me as before.
He keeps on walking, slightly ahead. Silent, giving me time to digest. I say nothing as I follow him. My head is spinning.
He stops, turning around, facing me again. “You have nothing to feel shameful about. This was not your fault.”
“No”, I choke out, cutting him mid-sentence.
Rage is awake and doing a little cha-cha dance.
“No”, I croak through the brittle glass in my closing throat. My back straightens, shoulders squared, as I meet his gaze.
“NO”, I say, my voice growing stronger.
“We will not be talking about it”, I snap. My voice is coarse and I struggle to push the words out through the choking sense of exposure.
I glare at him, expecting him to push further. But he doesn’t. He nods. Thank god for small graces!
His soft Father Christmas smile is back on, but now with a hint of sorrow and understanding.
“You’re absolutely right, my dear child. It is not my place to discuss it.” He isn’t flustered by my outburst in the slightest. His eyes are soft and kind.
“The only reason I dared to approach such a delicate topic is the fact that I believe I might be of assistance of sorts. You see, my life was always a colourful one. I’m shameful to admit, but I have been known to fall victim to many very human emotions. I have been taken advantage of and was wronged by many, but what I was careful to do each time is to give each and everyone their dues. I am a very old fashioned man and believe in an eye for an eye”, he shares, inclining his head. And looking into his steely eyes, I have a feeling that he followed through on these promises more than once.
“You are infinitely more special than you think. You are no longer a powerless creature, at the mercy of stronger ones”, he urges. “You are an angel with an army standing behind you, which will not hesitate to repay your debts and to make reprisal to everyone who wronged you. And I will help you avenge everyone who ever wronged you”, he calls.
His voice is young, strong and clear and I know that he is offering me something big and life changing. I feel that buzz of power behind his voice, behind him, and I know that he can deliver on every promise he makes. His earnest gaze penetrates me and I feel like he is speaking to something deep inside me.
“You have an interminable ability in you to change the world, to make things right, for yourself and for everyone who wrongly suffered, and I can help you with that. You have an immense power in you and I will help you come to your powers in full, to become superior, formidable, the being you were supposed to be. I’ll teach you everything you need and you will always have a rightful place near me in my council, next to Sam. I am offering you a family, which cares for one another, fights for one another, cries for one another, protects one another”, he urges. His eyes are glistening, excited, looking deep into mine.
An uncomfortable silence falls over us once he stops his speech.
“Are you completely sure that I am the one?” I whisper unsteadily. Everyone keeps repeating that I’m one of them, repeating that I am an angel, but how could I be if I don’t even have wings and I have been human all my life?
His face softens with a kind smile. He reaches out, gently patting my arm.
“My dear child, I don’t make mistakes. Ever. I make decisions”, he shares.
“And I know exactly who you are”, he whispers conspiratorially. “I would like you to consider my offer and everything that I just shared, but in the meantime we have arranged a family dinner in your honour tonight and I would love to see you there, to welcome you into our family, amongst your kind. I hope you will choose to join us.”
He lets go of my upper arm and takes a half step back.
“I’ll leave you in Tabby’s care and hopefully we will see you tonight”. He reaches his hand out to me. I place my hand in his and instead of the earlier handshake, he gently kisses my knuckles and releases my hand.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Ariel.” He does an old fashioned bow to me, then turns and walks off, into the direction he came from. His cane is beating a slow pulsating rhythm on the gravel. I’m left standing alone on the footpath, surrounded by bright sunshine in the sparkling blue sky and silent air.