Angel by L. A. Weatherly
Page 40
“Could you organize something?” he asked his assistant.
“Me?” Jonah went pale. “I — oh, it would be an honor. I mean, I’ve never attempted anything like this before in my life, but I’ll do my utmost —”
“Yes, all right, then,” said Raziel. “I’ll leave it all up to you. Do whatever you like; I know that you’ll arrange something appropriate. ” He bestowed a smile on his assistant. “Good idea, Jonah. The angels are most grateful. ”
“Thank you,” breathed Jonah. “Thank you. I’m honored to be of service. ”
“You are very welcome,” said Raziel. “You may be excused now. ”
After his assistant left the room, still murmuring his thanks, Raziel sat back in his chair, thinking grimly of the half angel. Willow — what a ridiculous name for something half divine; it seemed to highlight the travesty that was her very existence. Stretching his arm out, he tapped his computer mouse, bringing up the Church of Angels website that had already been on his screen. Once again, he studied the thing’s face: the wide green eyes, the slightly pointed chin, the long blond hair. Such an utterly normal-looking girl — pretty, but nothing special. And yet, according to Paschar’s vision, she somehow had the means to destroy them all.
As Raziel gazed at the thing’s image, it niggled at him, not for the first time. There was something vaguely familiar about the shape of her face, her eyes. He shrugged the thought away. She was half human, and many humans looked similar; it was hard to even tell them apart at times. He closed down the site, and the girl’s photo vanished. Looks aside, the important thing was that Willow Fields did not have long to live.
And once she was found by the Church’s devoted followers, she was going to wish with all her heart that her assassin had followed his orders to shoot her.
In the outer office, Jonah sat praying at his desk, giving thanks to the angels for this immense honor they’d bestowed upon him. When he raised his head, his face was radiant; he sat gazing around him, drinking in his surroundings — the tidy desk, the soft, off-white carpet, the small Michelangelo painting of an angel hanging on the wall.
When he compared his life now to how it had been eighteen months ago, he could hardly believe it. He’d been struggling in college, hating his courses, with hardly any friends and a family that had always been remote at best and actively unsupportive at worst. His future had seemed swathed in shades of gray — a career he didn’t want, nothing to look forward to, nothing to really care about. Reading T. S. Eliot in his English class, he’d thought that if he had any courage, he’d just end it all — then at least he could go out with a bang, rather than the whimper of continuing on with his mediocre, pointless life. He used to idly plan how he might do it, knowing that he would never actually have the guts, but it made him feel better. It cheered him up, in a strange way.
And then one day, he saw an angel.
He’d been walking through the campus, glumly worrying about his biology class. He had to do at least one science requirement for his degree, but he had no aptitude for it and was slowly failing, and now it was too late to try to switch to geology or something else that was easier. Jonah had sighed, staring down at his feet as he walked. Maybe it was better if he did fail; it wasn’t as if he even wanted the degree, anyway.
A brilliant flash of light had stopped him in his tracks. And, looking up, he had seen an angel flying slowly toward him — a bright, glorious being of such utter radiance, emanating such love and tranquility, that Jonah had simply stood there, frozen with wonder as the angel drew closer.
Do not be afraid, she had said. I have something to give you.
White light had burst around Jonah as the angel rested her shining hands on him, and he had felt something flowing into him — a strength, a resolve he’d never had before. The angel’s face was pure beauty, her features peaceful and kind. When she finally flew away, her wings shining in the sun, his world had been changed forever.
He had dropped out of college; he’d never felt such freedom in his life as the day he drove away from campus. He’d gone straight to Denver, where the new Church of Angels cathedral was being built. There he had encountered other angels, just as glorious and shining as the first — and though none of them had ever touched him more than fleetingly, he still basked in the glow of their serenity, their peace. When he realized that angels lived among people in human form, the knowledge had simply confirmed to him that the world was not a gray, sodden place; it was beautiful and shining, full of magic. And somehow he had actually lucked into this job where he served an angel himself.
Jonah sat at his desk, wondering at his good fortune. Shaking his head with a smile, he forced himself to focus: he had work to do. Opening up a new document on his computer, he began to make a list of ideas for the celebration of the Second Wave of angels. Suddenly another thought came to him: perhaps they could get TV and news coverage. Excitement tingled at his scalp. Yes, of course — surely they should let the whole world know about this? His mind buzzing with plans, he quickly got up to ask Raziel about it.
As Jonah started to knock on Raziel’s office door, he stopped, his fist in midair. He could hear the angel’s voice on the phone.
“Yes, Lailah, I know they won’t be feeding the instant they arrive. I’m just saying that we’ll have the cattle all there on display for them . . . Yes, that’s right, a big celebration, everyone cheering and happy to see them. It’ll be a nice little welcome, don’t you think? They can see all the blissed-out faces, realize how happy the humans are to be fed off by us. . . . ” There was a pause, and Raziel laughed. “Now, now. Don’t be greedy. You know you have to be in your human form for that. . . . ”
Jonah backed away from the door slowly, his head spinning in confusion. Angels feeding off humans? The idea was ridiculous — unthinkable. The angels were here to help people; he knew that firsthand. They hadn’t only changed his life; they had saved it. Raziel must have been joking. The angel had an acerbic sense of humor sometimes, and Jonah knew that he didn’t always catch the nuances of it.
He had just gotten it wrong. That was all.
Jonah sat down at his desk and gazed at the open document on his screen. Hearing the word cattle in his mind again, he somehow didn’t feel quite as enthusiastic about organizing the celebration as he had a few minutes ago, even if Raziel had only been speaking in jest. He saved what he’d done and closed the screen, logging onto his e-mail instead. It was a relief to see that he had several new messages that needed to be taken care of.
He began to type:
From: [email protected] /* */
To:[email protected] /* */; [email protected] /* */
Hi, thanks for copying me in on this. We’ll look forward to hearing what the outcome is in regard to the couple staying at the motel. If it’s them, please don’t hesitate; take appropriate action immediately.
Blessed in the Angels,
Jonah Fisk
I was flying.
Even in my sleep, I smiled to myself. What an amazing feeling, to be so weightless, so free. Spreading my gleaming wings, I hovered above my slumbering body in the motel room. Alex was asleep in the next bed, lying on his stomach. I could see the light of his energy, his tousled dark hair, the tattoo on his bicep as he lay with his head on his wrist. Part of me just wanted to stay there, gazing at him, but I knew that I couldn’t wait — I had something I needed to do. Slowly, moving my wings, I started to lift. Going through the ceiling was like passing through a ripple of water. I passed through the room above, too; it was empty, with unmade beds. Traveling faster now, I soared through the motel roof.
“Could you organize something?” he asked his assistant.
“Me?” Jonah went pale. “I — oh, it would be an honor. I mean, I’ve never attempted anything like this before in my life, but I’ll do my utmost —”
“Yes, all right, then,” said Raziel. “I’ll leave it all up to you. Do whatever you like; I know that you’ll arrange something appropriate. ” He bestowed a smile on his assistant. “Good idea, Jonah. The angels are most grateful. ”
“Thank you,” breathed Jonah. “Thank you. I’m honored to be of service. ”
“You are very welcome,” said Raziel. “You may be excused now. ”
After his assistant left the room, still murmuring his thanks, Raziel sat back in his chair, thinking grimly of the half angel. Willow — what a ridiculous name for something half divine; it seemed to highlight the travesty that was her very existence. Stretching his arm out, he tapped his computer mouse, bringing up the Church of Angels website that had already been on his screen. Once again, he studied the thing’s face: the wide green eyes, the slightly pointed chin, the long blond hair. Such an utterly normal-looking girl — pretty, but nothing special. And yet, according to Paschar’s vision, she somehow had the means to destroy them all.
As Raziel gazed at the thing’s image, it niggled at him, not for the first time. There was something vaguely familiar about the shape of her face, her eyes. He shrugged the thought away. She was half human, and many humans looked similar; it was hard to even tell them apart at times. He closed down the site, and the girl’s photo vanished. Looks aside, the important thing was that Willow Fields did not have long to live.
And once she was found by the Church’s devoted followers, she was going to wish with all her heart that her assassin had followed his orders to shoot her.
In the outer office, Jonah sat praying at his desk, giving thanks to the angels for this immense honor they’d bestowed upon him. When he raised his head, his face was radiant; he sat gazing around him, drinking in his surroundings — the tidy desk, the soft, off-white carpet, the small Michelangelo painting of an angel hanging on the wall.
When he compared his life now to how it had been eighteen months ago, he could hardly believe it. He’d been struggling in college, hating his courses, with hardly any friends and a family that had always been remote at best and actively unsupportive at worst. His future had seemed swathed in shades of gray — a career he didn’t want, nothing to look forward to, nothing to really care about. Reading T. S. Eliot in his English class, he’d thought that if he had any courage, he’d just end it all — then at least he could go out with a bang, rather than the whimper of continuing on with his mediocre, pointless life. He used to idly plan how he might do it, knowing that he would never actually have the guts, but it made him feel better. It cheered him up, in a strange way.
And then one day, he saw an angel.
He’d been walking through the campus, glumly worrying about his biology class. He had to do at least one science requirement for his degree, but he had no aptitude for it and was slowly failing, and now it was too late to try to switch to geology or something else that was easier. Jonah had sighed, staring down at his feet as he walked. Maybe it was better if he did fail; it wasn’t as if he even wanted the degree, anyway.
A brilliant flash of light had stopped him in his tracks. And, looking up, he had seen an angel flying slowly toward him — a bright, glorious being of such utter radiance, emanating such love and tranquility, that Jonah had simply stood there, frozen with wonder as the angel drew closer.
Do not be afraid, she had said. I have something to give you.
White light had burst around Jonah as the angel rested her shining hands on him, and he had felt something flowing into him — a strength, a resolve he’d never had before. The angel’s face was pure beauty, her features peaceful and kind. When she finally flew away, her wings shining in the sun, his world had been changed forever.
He had dropped out of college; he’d never felt such freedom in his life as the day he drove away from campus. He’d gone straight to Denver, where the new Church of Angels cathedral was being built. There he had encountered other angels, just as glorious and shining as the first — and though none of them had ever touched him more than fleetingly, he still basked in the glow of their serenity, their peace. When he realized that angels lived among people in human form, the knowledge had simply confirmed to him that the world was not a gray, sodden place; it was beautiful and shining, full of magic. And somehow he had actually lucked into this job where he served an angel himself.
Jonah sat at his desk, wondering at his good fortune. Shaking his head with a smile, he forced himself to focus: he had work to do. Opening up a new document on his computer, he began to make a list of ideas for the celebration of the Second Wave of angels. Suddenly another thought came to him: perhaps they could get TV and news coverage. Excitement tingled at his scalp. Yes, of course — surely they should let the whole world know about this? His mind buzzing with plans, he quickly got up to ask Raziel about it.
As Jonah started to knock on Raziel’s office door, he stopped, his fist in midair. He could hear the angel’s voice on the phone.
“Yes, Lailah, I know they won’t be feeding the instant they arrive. I’m just saying that we’ll have the cattle all there on display for them . . . Yes, that’s right, a big celebration, everyone cheering and happy to see them. It’ll be a nice little welcome, don’t you think? They can see all the blissed-out faces, realize how happy the humans are to be fed off by us. . . . ” There was a pause, and Raziel laughed. “Now, now. Don’t be greedy. You know you have to be in your human form for that. . . . ”
Jonah backed away from the door slowly, his head spinning in confusion. Angels feeding off humans? The idea was ridiculous — unthinkable. The angels were here to help people; he knew that firsthand. They hadn’t only changed his life; they had saved it. Raziel must have been joking. The angel had an acerbic sense of humor sometimes, and Jonah knew that he didn’t always catch the nuances of it.
He had just gotten it wrong. That was all.
Jonah sat down at his desk and gazed at the open document on his screen. Hearing the word cattle in his mind again, he somehow didn’t feel quite as enthusiastic about organizing the celebration as he had a few minutes ago, even if Raziel had only been speaking in jest. He saved what he’d done and closed the screen, logging onto his e-mail instead. It was a relief to see that he had several new messages that needed to be taken care of.
He began to type:
From: [email protected] /* */
To:[email protected] /* */; [email protected] /* */
Hi, thanks for copying me in on this. We’ll look forward to hearing what the outcome is in regard to the couple staying at the motel. If it’s them, please don’t hesitate; take appropriate action immediately.
Blessed in the Angels,
Jonah Fisk
I was flying.
Even in my sleep, I smiled to myself. What an amazing feeling, to be so weightless, so free. Spreading my gleaming wings, I hovered above my slumbering body in the motel room. Alex was asleep in the next bed, lying on his stomach. I could see the light of his energy, his tousled dark hair, the tattoo on his bicep as he lay with his head on his wrist. Part of me just wanted to stay there, gazing at him, but I knew that I couldn’t wait — I had something I needed to do. Slowly, moving my wings, I started to lift. Going through the ceiling was like passing through a ripple of water. I passed through the room above, too; it was empty, with unmade beds. Traveling faster now, I soared through the motel roof.