Page 9 of Camael
"Yeah, about that." She ran a hand through her dark hair. "Any chance that's just a cute nickname and not some absurd job description?"
"When's the last time we got that lucky?" Zach muttered.
Camael's wings manifested as he paced. They filled half the room with deadly grace. "Something about this feels familiar. I swear, I've seen references to it before, but..."
"But what?" Amelia prompted when he trailed off.
"But those references would be in the Celestial Archives." His jaw set in a way that made demon lords nervous. "Which means dealing with the Council."
"You’re one of the stuffed robes upstairs." Rami's grimace spoke volumes.
“I want to go with you. This is about me. I need to be there,” Amelia insisted.
Malachi shook his head. "The others aren’t gonna like a witch accessing the archives. They'll have celestial coronaries."
"You can’t go," Camael told Amelia. "The Council's already going to be pissy about working with a witch. Showing up with you unannounced would be like dropping a hellhound in their birdbath." He took a moment to send his fellow archangels a mental request for a meeting, pointing to the disturbance as the reason why.
"So, you're going to, what? Ask them pretty please with sugar on top to share their secrets?" Her power flared with her temper. "In case you missed it, this is my cosmic destiny we're talking about."
"Trust me." Camael moved closer. He was near enough that she had to crane her neck to meet his gaze. "I'll get answers. But I need you here, working with the team to figure out what Crocell and Lucifer's next play might be."
Their eye contact held enough electricity to power the Eastern Seaboard. Finally, Amelia cursed. "Fine. But you better come back with something good."
"Don't I always?" He smirked and ran a finger down her cheek.
"I'll alert the medical ward," Rami interjected. "In case the Council needs treatment for collective apoplexy."
His comment was enough to break the tension and keep Camael from dragging Amelia back to his room. "Keep the wards strong," Camael ordered as he prepared to leave. "And try not to start any apocalypses while I'm gone."
"No promises," several voices chorused.
With a final look at Amelia that carried more weight than a neutron star, Camael vanished in a flutter of wings. He materialized in Heaven's administrative district like a dark cloud in paradise. The place hadn't changed since Creation. It was all gleaming towers and pristine streets that usually sang to his battle-worn soul. His black leather jacket and combat boots stood out among the flowing robes and sandals of the celestial paper-pushers. For the first time since donning the uncomfortable clothing, he was glad. He wasn't there to play nice.
The Hall of Reckoning rose before him, a testament to divine authority that managed to be both awe-inspiring and annoying as hell. Elaborate golden double doors stretched three stories high. They were flanked by white marblecolumns that disappeared into the clouds above. The whole setup screamed ‘important shit happens here’ in a way that made Camael's battle-hardened soul itch.
The scent hit him first. Bay leaf and spice. It was the signature fragrance of the Council of Archangels. It was different from his first visit centuries ago when the air had been sweet with a hint of roses. Guards at the entrance straightened as he approached. Their wings twitching with recognition as they bowed to him. The massive golden doors swung open without a sound.
Inside, white marble floors stretched out like a frozen lake. They were polished to a shine that reflected the eternal flames dancing in braziers along the walls. The ceiling soared overhead and was supported by columns that would've made the Parthenon jealous. The whole space managed to be both enclosed and oddly infinite. It was a neat trick that only celestial architecture could pull off.
The focal point was a long table with ten chairs. Each was carved with the sigil of the archangels who sat their divine asses in them. Currently, most of those seats were occupied by beings who looked like they'd just bitten into celestial lemons.
Through the massive windows, Camael could see the living quarters of other angels. They were that weird mix of cloud and solid structure that Heaven favored. They were all open to the air unless an angel specifically chose to close their space off. The view somehow managed to make this chamber feel even more imposing. More separate from the rest of Heaven's architecture.
His boots echoed across that perfect floor as he approached his seat at the table. News traveled faster than divine light up here, especially when one of their own decided to shake things up. "Brother." Michael's voice filledthe space with a mix of exasperation and grudging respect. "You've certainly been busy."
"That's what I do," Camael said as he claimed his chair. The sigils carved into it flared with recognition. "But you all knew that when you voted me into the Angels of Retribution command."
"We endorsed a warrior," Gabriel cut in, his white wings shifting with agitation. "Not someone who'd upend the entire celestial order."
"Funny." Camael's smile wasn't friendly. "I don't remember those being mutually exclusive. You know the reason for this meeting."
Raphael's sigh could've powered a wind farm. "The witch. Amelia. Your... association with her has raised concerns among our brethren."
"Concerns?" Camael's laugh made the flames in the braziers dance. "She just saved the day and kept Lucifer from his end goal. But please, share these concerns with the class."
"The natural order-" Jophiel began.
"Is changing," Camael cut her off. "The old ways aren't cutting it anymore. Lucifer's playing a different game. We need to adapt, or everything we serve and protect will be taken from us."
