Page 6 of Under His Wings

Chapter 4

Forgetting about Zachariel should be a simple matter. One night stands were more of a norm than an exception for me and I liked it that way. But the memories from that night, the moments of incredible pleasure I was offered as soon as I let myself submit, were haunting my mind. It was like a paper cut on my attention; nothing significant, but I was always aware it was there. An annoyance through and through. Ha, how typical of an angel to get where he wasn’t wanted.

The moments of passion were something I could resist. Memories of my submission made me want to hide, so I didn’t linger on them too closely. But another memory played havoc with my emotions.

The glimpse of tears on the angel’s face before he could hide his face from me as he ran.

I may have given him a lot, maybe more than I ever expected to give, but I also took from him, had seen him equally vulnerable. Possibly more vulnerable than me. Did that mean we were even? Back to square one? Did it mean... I could approach him once more without the burning shame I felt whenever I thought of spending a second night with an angel who had seen me bare, not only in body but in soul? I felt like an addict after I tested submission with him. It exposed a side of me I had spent hundreds of years carefully hiding to not get taken advantage of by the brutal world of demonic relations.

That was one reason why I spent so much time on Earth; I preferred the atmosphere here over what happened in Hell. All that posturing was so tiring. But today I decided to make an exception and go back to the demonic plane, even if I didn’t have to, for the first time in years. I wanted to ask pointed questions, to quietly research the abomination of an angel having nightmares and get to the bottom of the strange occurrence. Researching in Hell also gave me a reason why I couldn’t just drop by the angel’s flat. The flat I know the address to. And could find any time. By the stars, it was so tempting to just go there. Fortunately, I was always good at procrastinating away from my troubles.

I took a deep breath in as I materialized in Hell, the slight tang of sulfur letting itself known even after millennia of the hellscape getting steadily transformed into a nicer place to live in. Lucifer's efforts to change the hellish plane he was thrown into after his rebellion were slowly bearing fruit, but there were still places, dark corners like the Abbyss, where I didn't dare to go.

Besides sulfur I could taste the magic in the air, the power tantalizingly close after staying for so long among humans. On Earth you had to use the power from within and couldn’t just reach out and take it from the outside as you could here. As I walked to a nearby pub, one of the best places to gather information, I caught the swirling strands of power, carefully taking them inside me. I wished it would be easier to stockpile it for later, but no matter how you gorged yourself on the power in Hell, it leaked out of you like from a sieve after you entered the human domain. It took dedicated work to bolster the reserve you could keep within you like a seed of possibility.

I delved into the matter I came here for, angels who dreamed, straight away. But after trying everything I could think of – paid information brokers, the biggest gossips in Hell, a few demons who were known for sleeping with angels – I was left empty handed. Frustrated, I decided to try again later and spent the time meditating, focusing on the power around me.

Two days later, as I passed the threshold of Fire in the Hole, my favorite pub, a smile curled on my lips as I realized my reserves were larger than when I was here last time. Of course, to most of the folks gathered here that meant nothing. Not when they were so much better at utilizing the magic around them. My eyes darkened, my mood already souring, as I saw one of the regulars sneer at me. She thought herself superior because she kicked my ass one time. I was convinced she wouldn’t last a minute if we brawled on Earth, but alas, if there was one thing many angels and demons shared it was unwillingness to set foot on Earth. Some devils loved to play with humans but there were restrictions now, rules, contracts, regular jobs. It was all too civilized for their tastes.

“Look who graced us with his presence,” Beira taunted. “Got fed up with your humans? Are you ready for something better?”

I gave her a thorough once over then flicked my eyes dismissively to the side.

“Sorry, honey, but I had better offers on Earth.”

“Yeah? Like what? Did you seduce your mark? Humans are so easy; it’s embarrassing going for them.”

“Then it’s good I didn’t go for them. I had my sights set higher, if you know what I mean.”

My hand flicked up lazily, the white feather between my fingers gleaming in the dimness of the pub as I played with it gently, casually.

“You son of a bitch.” I tried not to let a smirk overtake my face at Beira’s dropped jaw and admiring tone. “How did you pull that?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell. But I can tell you he was dreamy,” I laughed, but Beira didn’t. “Get it? Dreamy? It’s funny because angels do not dream?”

There was a rule about telling jokes: if you had to explain it, the joke wasn’t really funny. But just this once I gave himself a dispensation to be extremely corny as it steered the conversation exactly where I wanted it to go.

“Yeah, yeah, everybody knows the feathers don’t dream,” Beira rolled her eyes and waved to the waiter to order us two drinks.

“But wouldn’t it be funny if they did? Can you imagine an angel having an erotic dream? You know, night emissions and all.”

“Ha! I would pay to see that!”

“Maybe there are some exceptions out there. Had you ever heard about a dreaming angel?”

“Nah. Or I would already be blackmailing them into giving me some of those pretty feathers like you got. But I had heard...” Her eyes turned calculating as she followed the motion of the feather in my hand. “You know what? I will tell you what I heard if you give me a prize.”

Her burning stare made it obvious what she wanted. The white feathers from true angel wings were filled with a spark of angelic power and they didn’t last long, especially not in Hell, quickly dulling and turning to dust in a matter of days. Waving around a still-glowing feather at a demon was like waving a flag in front of a bull. Who could resist it? Certainly not Beira. I was only glad the feather got tangled among my things when I hurried to leave Zach’s flat. I wouldn’t have enough balls to keep one for myself otherwise.

I made a show of not wanting to part with my prize, but ultimately I relented and got what I truly wanted. An answer. A lead. Beira leaned towards me and whispered conspiratorially.

“I had heard about a demon who dreams. He made quite a spectacle of himself the other day…”

My eyes sparkled as she told me all the rumors flying around about one Auriolus, soon to become my prey.

Chapter 5

Auriolus would be extremely easy to follow, seeing how distracted he seemed as he looked around curiously with those big eyes, if it wasn’t for one detail: he was following a demon of a higher rank around like a puppy. And not any demon: Abaddon himself. It would make sense if he was one of the sycophants looking to ingratiate himself, or even a lower demon playing fetch-and-serve, but the little guy seemed more trouble than help, what with the way he almost managed to get lost twice among the demons at the marketplace while I observed the unique pair. It’s not like it was that hard to follow after Abaddon's broad shoulders and beautiful golden horns! They were practically a beacon! But Auriolus was apparently as curious as a squirrel while having the attention span of a goldfish. I wasn’t surprised when Abaddon finally seized the smaller demon by his always-gesticulating hand and forcefully pulled him after himself.

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