ARC: Seeds of Calamity

CHAPTER OF THE PAGES - II - Heaven’s kitchen (Two)

Nezariel felt the threat coming from the demon’s aura, but didn’t stand up to confront it. Instead, she only stared at Aamon, with as much indifference in her eyes, as one can gather in a look.

Aamon stared back, and the situation persisted for long seconds. Bertrand knew what the angel was trying to do, so he didn’t interfere, even though he would possibly die if he ever tried to.

“You’re gonna stand there all night long?” Nezariel asked the demon, as the seconds passed slowly, and the atmosphere changed gradually, from dangerous to awkward.

“Uhm... I beg your pardon?” Aamon retorted, uncomfortably. It shifted its weight from one leg to the other, trying really hard not to break eye contact with the angel.

“Your food is gonna get cold, and we need to sleep. I’m not gonna play Serious all night, neither are you gonna do anything stupid.” Nezariel’s glare grew even more serious, cold and heavy. “I may not have my grace yet, but you really don’t think I only rely on my angelic power to get rid of the ones who try to take my peace away, do you?”

The girl had her crowbar next to her, the muscles in her body aching to see what would happen next, and the fire in her triple coloured eyes, as intense as a wildfire.

“Uhm... Okay...” Aamon said, seating down again, swallowing dry saliva as the eye contact broke and it stared right into the can of soup, as if there was something very interesting in the bottom.

The angel always had her peace, even when she was Becca. Because while she believed the truth to be absolute, everything was in balance. Good was good, evil was evil, and the proper good would punish such evil.

Everything was exactly what it should be.

But when she fled Heaven, fell on the Haled, and actually watched the amount of injustice carried on with no proper punishment...

When she remembered that her home had somehow become corrupted, that her very own Heaven had forsaken humankind for God knew what reason...

Her balance broke, disturbing her reality, and making her essence snap.

“You’re good.” Bertrand told her after Aamon finished its meal and went to sleep. “I’ve been in a few hostage situations in my life. But never saw a person deal so well with a threat, using that awkwardness. Really.”

“Thank you.” The angel replied, turning to the side and trying to fall asleep.

Ophanims weren’t created to have strength, to fight, to be fierce. They were created to be pure, loving, trustworthy guide and protectors, made to feel emotions in an exponentially more intense way than any other living thing in creation.

And there was Nezariel.

Who was created an Ophanim, bound to follow her caste’s nature to the very end.

Who fled Heaven, because there was a sense of justice inside her, that was vastly different from that of her caste.

Who lived like a human for a few long years, experiencing human feelings and human time, as a human, building a whole new character for herself.

She felt wrong, every time she had to fight, every time she had to stand up aggressively against something or someone. Though it didn’t mean she could just sit down and watch something bad occur, because she knew what was right and what was wrong. She knew justice, somehow.

And that made her feel sick, every time she remembered Rosenbaum’s blood on her hands, her face, her lips.

The hatred towards demons was etched so deep inside her, that even when she still thought she was a human, she felt weird towards Grace and Don, and even more now, towards Aamon, a strong and evil Marquis of Hell.

Well, it wasn’t as if the angel wanted to be friends with the Marquis, but somehow, she knew the demon wasn’t actually wicked towards them. When they had to leave town, after Rosenbaum’s death, Aamon even helped turn them invisible to the human eyes, so that the three could flee without a fight.

Nezariel felt conflicted towards so many concepts that she always thought to be absolute.

And with these thoughts, she fell asleep.

And with these thoughts, she spent a whole year becoming part of a team.

Getting to trust Bertrand and Aamon in a way that was ever thought to be essentially impossible for a heavenly being.

They crossed towns, found clues on where to find someone able to decipher the page she carried, stayed on track for a while, found trials and overcame them.

But the more the angel thought about it, the more it all felt suspicious.

It just wasn’t possible for a lead to make them run in circles like that.

So she asked for the former detective’s help.

“You want me to check on it by myself?”

“You can do it, Bert.” she replied. Her tone carrying a soft warm. “Even if you’re not sure about your new powers, you trained enough with me to at least trust your strength. I know you won’t let me down.”

“But...” he started. “People... Mortals don’t know that kind of stuff, do they? I mean, do I have to find a priest or something?”

Bertrand was a bit too lost, since Nezariel and Aamon were the very first supernatural creatures that he ever had the chance to encounter.

Was it really?

“Do you still feel it?” the angel asked him.

“It wh...” and then the former PI got it.

He didn’t need to know what to look for, because his senses would tell him once he found something.

Because he could sense death when he was a mortal, and now that he was the advent body for a powerful heavenly being, his senses got stronger. Therefore, he wasn’t only able to feel death anymore.

He could feel the presence of other angels and demons too. He just didn’t realize it before, because his only company had been a heavenly and a hellish being. But many times when the trio escaped recognition, fights, and even powerful presences watching from the other side of the veil, it was all because of him telling ‘I feel weird, let’s not go that way. I feel like I could die if we went there.’

How couldn’t he get it before?

Bertrand felt silly at the moment, and his cheeks reddened a little, but enough for Nezariel to see.

“Don’t know how to take compliments, do you?” she said, with a smile.

The detective smiled back, in a shy way, and replied.

“I’ll do my best not to let you down, girl.”

“You can call me Neza, or Becca, if you like. I trust you enough like that.” She retorted kindly.

“Alright, I’ll think about it.” and he left, spending a few days away from them, raising suspicion from Aamon’s side.

“You know he won’t come back, right?” the demon asked.

Nezariel didn’t retort, and after a week, Bertrand was back with the lead.

The only thing was that he had lost an arm...

***

“You said that the demon we’re after took your arm, and yet you’re siding with Aamon here?” Nezariel looked at the detective, without stopping nor slowing the pace of her steps.

“You taught me the hierarchy of demons, Neza.” Bertrand replied, calmly. “Also, you told me that when an angel or a demon dies, it vanishes from existence. It’s basically as death is to a human being, and no one wants to die, right?”

That reply made the angel slow her pace down noticeably.

No one wants to die, was it?

She was an angel, but also a human being, even if for a short period of time, comparing to how non-human being perceived it.

Nezariel felt her own existence as a heavenly being, but at the same time, as a human, and it made her reflect deeply on what Bertrand just said.

Because she never thought about dying, about what death actually meant.

“Alright, Aamon.” she spoke, looking at the demon. “I don’t get it, but I respect your will to keep living. So... If you want, you can stay here while we talk to him.”

She had a determined, yet comforting look in her eyes. It was hard to know if it was solace or just resolution, but she broke eye contact before anyone could know the emotions behind her eyes.

“I came this far with you lot, didn’t I?” the demon retorted, evasive. “So, of course I’m coming with you. Only that if I die, I’ll make sure he takes you guys with me.” a smile crept up in the demon’s lips, but not a wicked one, surprisingly. “Because if I die, I at least don’t wanna go to the Void alone, you see...”

Bertrand’s face lit up with a smile as he looked at Aamon, and Nezariel seemed to smile too, but none of her companions noticed it, because she turned around to face their goal.

“Alright, guys. If we’re going to die, at least it looks like a place that offers a nice last meal.”

The restaurant before them looked a bit fancy for the standards of the neighbourhood it was placed in. There was even a chauffeur to pick the customers cars.

Two bodyguards stood at the entrance, and strangely, as the trio tried to get in, the guards didn’t stop them.

And so they went inside, to either learn about the contents of that page, or have their last meal on Earth.