Part 11 (2/2)
”Grandpa!” I cry out in a frightened whisper.
Chapter 16.
”No,” a voice whispers from the window. ”It's Ariel.”
It astonishes me so much that I bite down on my lip hard so as not to scream, and in the process manage to break my skin, and salty blood begins to fill my mouth.
The angel must have floated through my window, for he is now seated on my bed, rubbing his finger over my bleeding lip gently. A burning sensation travels from his finger into my lip at his touch. I look up at his impa.s.sive face, my brown eyes meeting his icy blue unblinking eyes.
”He needs my help, and you have to come with me,” he continues. My eyes narrow to slits, and he interprets my questioning look.
”I cannot leave you. If I do, and one of the fallen traces your Essence, they might come to check which divine angel is emitting such weak Essence. They might kill you, or even capture you so as to learn more information about you. Should they find out that you are just a son of man...” He trails off.
”That is why you always need to be in close proximity with an angel, so that our stronger Essence will drown out yours. And should we be attacked, we are capable of fighting back. We will not let anything happen to you. You are the guardian.”
”Azrael..?”
”Went to check on Ariel and Uriel earlier when they sent the first distress message, and hasn't come back since, or communicated.”
”Oh”
”We need to leave now.” He lifts his finger off my bottom lip, and I realize the throb on my lip is gone. I touch it, only to find my lip whole again. I look up to him to ask how he healed me, but he mouths, ”now.” So I jump out of bed.
I grab a pair of underwear from the bottom drawer of the chest under the window and put them on, a blush creeping up my face. I then grab a pair of jeans from the floor, pulling them over my legs as fast as I can. I think to change my t-s.h.i.+rt, but the memory of Ariel's eyes screwed up in pain makes me grab at my parka instead, hurriedly putting it over mom's T-s.h.i.+rt.
My human movements must appear really slow to the angel, who is used to doing things in split seconds, because he is gliding to and fro in my box of a room, signifying his impatience.
Well excuse me! I am a son of man, I think sarcastically, using the phrase I have heard him and his brothers use often.
Just as I finish zipping my parka I am swept off my feet and in a split second, the chilly night air is filling my lungs as we fly across the night sky.
Today's flight is a lot longer than those I have previously experienced, allowing me to really take note of what is happening. I am held tight by Raphael's left hand, my back pressed against his chest. His wings are spread out wide above us. I know because I can see a part of the silvery wings spread out on both of my sides. They are wider than I previously thought, flapping ever so slightly every time we have to change course or alt.i.tudes.
For the most part we are gliding swiftly through the air. We are not that high above, for I can still breathe, though with slight difficulty. I can just make out the buildings and expanse below speeding past us as we soar faster and higher up in the sky. The view makes me sick, and I close my eyes to try stop the nausea.
It does not seem to help, for an involuntary spasm rocks me, mere seconds before I begin heaving my dinner. We come to an abrupt stop, on the edge of the rooftop of a very tall building, in an unfamiliar city. Raphael holds me and my hair as I heave up some more over the edge, the urge to throw up only intensifies as I look down at the seemingly bottomless drop below, until my stomach is empty and only air comes up.
”I'm sorry,” I manage to say finally, when the heaving stops, shutting my eyes so as not to be sickened by the sight of the long distance to the bottom of the building.
”It's ok,” the apathetic voice answers. ”We need to set off now, if you are done.”
”Hold my face against your chest,” I say, heat flooding my face for some stupid reason. ”Looking down makes me nauseous.” I am barely done speaking before we are soaring through the crisp night air once again.
My face is pressed tight against his ripped chest, his one hand snaked around my waist. I take in his intoxicatingly masculine scent, which is doing things to my body that I cannot explain. I have no idea why I am reacting like this towards him, however a searing sensation pa.s.ses through me and I shudder slightly against him.
This time when we land suddenly onto a steep frozen mountain side, I stumble almost falling down, when he throws me off himself roughly.
I look up at him startled, and scared because he could have hurt me with that shove, had I fallen onto one of the sharp jagged rocks protruding over the carpet of snow.
”What..?”
”Control yourself, son of man!” He spits out in disgust. I almost die of embarra.s.sment, turning my face away from him to hide the tears that threaten to spill out.
What is wrong with me? Why had I reacted like that to him? Him! The cold-hearted hateful creature!
”What are you talking about?” I play dumb.
”Don't be daft! I told you I can feel your emotions loud and clear.” I bite my lip in embarra.s.sment.
”How do you know it wasn't me reading your emotions?” I argue, fighting for my lost pride.
”And why would I feel that kind of attraction for you?” The question knocks the air out of my lungs.
Don't cry, don't lose every trace of your dignity now, I say to myself.
”Now stop that racket of self-pity!” He raises his voice, startling me. ”You are a pocket of raging emotions. You must learn to curb them, because they are drowning the other angels', and I need to track my brothers that need my help.” I inhale deeply, trying to calm myself.
”Why don't you leave me here?” I ask.
”I can't, I told you already. The angels freed from Tartaros can sense your Essence. They could trace you and kill you, or worse. If you stay close to me, the angels will think the Essence is coming from me.”
”But will they not wonder who I am, being that I am with you?”
”No, because I plan on leaving you somewhere near us when we get close enough. Just act like an untouched son of man. Pretend not to see us, for we always battle in another dimension, where the sons of man cannot see us. If you play your part well, they will not pay any attention to you, dismissing you as just one of the many irrelevant sons of man.”
”Okay,” I say, trying to keep my voice devoid of any emotion, despite the insults embedded in his words during this whole conversation. He then steps up to me awkwardly, tentatively pulling me to him, turning my face to the side, so that it is my left cheek that lies against his chest.
”Close your eyes,” he says before soaring high up into the sky again.
Laying my cheek against his hard chest does not help my situation. Especially with my eyes closed. So I begin singing the children song, '99 green bottles on the wall', and countdown to distract myself. When I get to 47, Raphael slows down, his stomach muscles constricting as he tenses up.
..46 green bottles standing on the wall, But if one green bottle, should accidentally fall.. I keep up with the singing in my head, keeping my emotions as calm as possible, not wanting to jeopardize his mission. My fingers itch though to touch the knotted muscles on his stomach, and I have to fold them into fists, just to be sure that I do not do it.
He gently drops to land on soft marshy ground that sinks slightly beneath my feet. He buries his face into my hair, close to my ear. There will be 45 green bottles standing on the wall, I continue, to still my heartbeat that rages in response.
”Stay here,” he whispers in a very low voice. I nod in response, and he immediately flies away. I open my eyes slowly, which sting against the bright daylight. We have flown across the world to the eastern hemisphere, judging by the bright morning sun. I have no idea where exactly we are though, and the thought unnerves me.
..45 green bottles standing on the wall, But if one green bottle, should accidentally fall.. I continue when he is gone, seeking to be as of little nuisance as possible. This childish way of distracting myself and subsequently controlling my raging emotions seems to be working so far, so I keep at it.
There are 75 green bottles standing on the wall, I am singing to myself, having counted down to zero and started again, when a powerful figure comes scuttling across the rice paddies awash with bright sunlight, just two hundred meters from where I am seated, on a tree stump, appearing to be enjoying the view before me of gently rolling hills. My heart flutters in fear, so I press on with my rhyme.
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