Surprise, Exorcise, Vanish Chapter 5

Chapter 5

--==--

The distant cacophony of church bells disturbed his relaxation.

He was at one of the many resorts that dotted the shores of one of Heaven's seas. He was sunbathing in the warmth of the sun, luxuriating in the feeling of it on his skin and myriad wings. He was also being tended to by a pair of beautiful angels, who might've been supermodels in life and still very much were after winning.

Twins, they were.

The bells rang again. He ignored them, instead choosing to sip from a cocktail as suggested to him by one of his subordinates. It was a fizzy, pineapple-flavored cocktail that was delicious. Meanwhile, the twins were working on massaging the muscles of his wings. It was important to get the kinks kneaded out from time to time, especially if you spent a lot of time without using them for flight.

He'd been spending a lot of time in the office as of late, sitting behind a desk. Maybe the High Seraphim had been onto something for all but ordering him to take time off. Perhaps he could find a reason or an excuse to do this more often.

One of the two moved to straddle his hips, a bottle of oil in hand. She poured oil on his chest and stomach before setting the bottle aside, her hands moving to massage his body in earnest. It had been a good idea after all, he decided.

The bells again, louder and more insistent than before. With a sigh he set aside his drink, instinctively reaching past the buxom chest of the other angel massaging his wings to-

He woke up, back in his private residence.

He had been dreaming, sadly.

His hand hovered over the loud and insistent device on the nightstand next to his bed. He was getting a call.

He picked the offending device, looked at who it was calling him. Irritated, he answered. "Oscar."

"Gabey."

"This is the first day of the first week of the first vacation I've taken in literal decades," he ground out. "Unless Hell is literally battering down the Gates I am going to hang up and go back to sleep."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you might want to be here for the arrival of a new seraphim."

Wait, what?

"I know, those don't happen every day."

He'd said that out loud. "When?"

"A few hours ago. The High Seraphim wants you to come in as soon as possible."

Of course she would. "I'll be there soon."

"Cool! I gotta call Az, see you then!"

Gabriel hung up. He all but stumbled out of bed and trudged toward the bathroom to freshen up. This was probably some sort of cosmic joke, the first day of his vacation and something like this happens. The Creator would have found it funny, come to think of it.

He already wished he was back with the twins on that beach. Maybe he'd invite the new seraphim to join him at the real deal.

--==--

The lower levels of the Palace were a realm seldom visited.

It was a sprawling array of tunnels, joining together countless chambers and galleries. These underlevels were a rare departure from the ordered splendor of the rest of Heaven. Instead of marble and gold, the walls were rough stone. What illumination if any came from sconce light. In many places the walls lacked even that, tunnels shrouded in darkness save by the occasional passing halo or lamp.

One section of the near-endless sprawl of the lower levels was set aside as the offices and headquarters of the Reapers, the host of angels handpicked by Azrael to usher wayward souls on to their afterlife. Occasionally when a mortal died, their souls would refuse to pass on to the next world, be it Heaven above or Pride below. Occasionally they wandered on that boundary between their world and the next, and it fell to the Reapers to usher them along.

The decor reflected the somber nature of their work. Drab and monotone, reminiscent of the catacombs and tombs found across Earth below. Places of the dead, reflecting the grim nature of their task. Several of Azrael's subordinates noted he had captured the essence of a contemporary office, replete with cubicles, overwhelming beige and hum-buzzing lights.

Being a reaper was a thankless job even on the better days. On the best days it could be a challenge though, when particularly strong willed souls put up a fight, or when their desire to remain among the living was great.

Azrael, the Angel of Death, liked to think that his people were the best of the best, and in all the ways that counted they were. Each was personally handpicked by either his lieutenants or himself, each an individual showing great promise or standing out amongst their peers.

Each as an individual was warm, caring and empathetic. Each was capable of independent and flexible thinking. And last but not least, each was skilled in combat. There was a reason after all that the Reapers were recruited from the ranks of the Dominions, albeit with the occasional exception.

They were the best of the best. At least when they chose to act like it, that was.

"Swiss!"

"American."

"Swiss, you absolute degenerate!"

"I like my cheese to melt when you heat it. Who decided to invent a cheese that doesn't melt?"

"And who decided to invent a cheese made of literal plastic!?"

"It's a solid slice that doesn't have holes! Otherwise you're just getting less cheese!"

Right now, two of his lieutenants were in a heated argument over… Was it cheese again? And while they were supposed to be briefing him on the states of affairs in their respective dioceses.

"Gretel, Zachariah, enough," Azrael cut them off. His desk was scattered with papers and documents, hard copies of reports from his lieutenants marked for his review. On a good day he could go maybe one page before the discussions between these particular two flared into heated arguments.

At the moment he was reviewing a report of yet another potential increase in lost souls, from yet two more nations on the verge of war. "So, the chances of these two countries fighting?"

"Oh, it's practically skyrocketing!" Gretel giggled. "I give it another five years before they start another world war."

The Reapers still occasionally found wandering souls from the last two. Bad times, those. "That bad?"

"Well, the bigger of the two wants to conquer the smaller one. But the smaller one has lots of powerful allies that buy their electronics and stuff, and wouldn't like it if they lost their supplier due to an invading country."

Azrael sighed. Territory, it was always territory. One could say whatever they wanted about humans, but they could always find a reason to go to war. That, and their infinite capacity to wage it. That capacity was absolute, and at the rate things were going? They wouldn't even need to be the ones waging war anymore. Machines would be doing it for them.

Regardless of the cause or the ways they fought, humans inevitably died in droves, and almost always the ones that weren't fighting in the first place! Civilians, as the more military-minded of his people called them, caught in the crossfire of warring states.

It made him miss the old days, when things were simpler, when soldiers would fight on open battlefields and not on city streets. His brother Leo agreed with him on that at least.

"Well, I'm not going to worry about anything until it happens. Gretel, keep an eye on things there if they change." Azrael dropped the report, picking up the next. "Zachariah, what about this…" He blinked at the word choice, "Potential and cataclysmic civil war?"

The other, more normal of the pair nodded. "An election's coming up," The man explained. "A presidential one, happens every four years. Pretty routine." Compared to the neon blue hair of his companion, the spiky blond dye job was almost mundane. That was if you elected to also ignore the man's tan cargo shorts, Hawaiian shirt, gold chains and sunglasses.

"And explain to me exactly how something 'routine' can lead to a civil war?"

"Most of the supporters of one of the Presidential candidates want to murder the supporters of the other, whether their leader wins or not. I honestly blame their education system."

"I see," Azrael sighed. It wasn't even limited to rival nations, oftentimes humans would even fight their own nation! He read the name of the country, and recalled that they had already done it once before, and not too long ago at that. A hundred and fifty years, give or take. Not even all that long ago.

"Well, same with Gretel, just keep an eye on things for the moment." Azrael wanted to change the subject to another, and the next report was just what he needed. Technically it wasn't even his domain, it was Michael's. But war was a common cause of death among humans so it was better to stay apprised of things. "Now, about recruitment-"

It was then that his phone decided to ring. Azrael answered it by the first ring. "Azrael talking."

"Hey Az."

"I am busy, Oscar. Is it important at least?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Oscar said. "Just a new seraphim showing up in heaven. No biggie at all, really!"

Azrael was silent for a moment. "You're serious."

"Yep! Sera wants us all in conference room one. The big one, not the one by her office."

"All right, I'm on my way." he hung up, pocketing his phone.

"Is there a problem, sir?" Gretel asked.

"Something's come up." Azrael stood from his chair, the only comfortable looking piece of furniture in his office. "Inform your fellows to return to their duties, their briefs can wait. And for the love of the Maker, compromise on something for once." He walked to the door and the others followed, leaving his office with him to attend to their duties.

He caught a wisp of their bickering resuming as they parted ways, but he had other things to think about, like the newcomer to their little coterie.

--==--

Strangely, Ontos didn't feel out of place.

If anything, he almost felt like he belonged here, amongst these other angels.

On an instinctive level, he simply felt that way. It was something he couldn't articulate with words. If he tried to use one? The closest would probably be belonging. But it was insufficient, lacking the needed context and meaning. The word welcoming was closer, but it still wasn't quite accurate.

Besides the two that accompanied the High Seraphim, there were two others. They had returned to their seats, and Ontos glanced their way. The first seemed pretty young, perhaps in his early twenties. Golden blonde hair, inquisitive blue eyes and boyish features marking his relative youth to himself and the others.

His outfit was similar in cut and appearance to the gold-trimmed suits the other two wore. The only difference was that it was cream-colored instead of monochrome. The similarities ended there, as his included a set of shoulderpads, complete with tassels. He also had a gold-fringed hat, though it rested on the table before him.

The second looked nothing like the first. An ophanim, as Cyra had described herself earlier. They had at least half a dozen rings as their head, spinning about its single blue eye that stared back at him unblinking. The outermost ring was stationary, ringed with a set of six white wings.  After a moment, the rings all slowed and settled back into a plane around the eye.

It was unsettling to his primate hindbrain, seeing something that shouldn't logically exist. But to be fair to himself, the entire realm he now found himself in, by the old logic he once subscribed to, shouldn't have existed. That it did would have terrified the man he used to be. That it didn't, when it should have still done so? That worried him too.

"Ontos, right?" The auburn-haired angel that accompanied Sera asked him. He alone approached while the others moved to converse with Sera.

"That is my name, yes," he nodded.

"I'm Leliel," the angel named himself. "Though everyone calls me Leo. While we wait for the others to arrive, may I examine you?"

"In what way?"

"A basic physical examination," Leo explained. "I care for the health of all angels, but for us seraphim in particular when the council is assembled like this. Afterwards though, I may want to perform a more thorough examination."

Ontos shrugged, spreading his arms. "Go ahead." Better to play along for now, even if he didn't like the sound of the last bit.

Right then," Leo nodded, stepping close into his personal space. He reached up, just short of touching his shoulders and torso, almost as if he was reaching out to touch something there that wasn't quite him. "Odd," he said.

"Problem?"

"Well, you are in perfect health, naturally," Leo explained. You are a seraphim, no doubt about it. Although you're hiding it."

"What do you mean by that?" Ontos felt he had an idea already through.

"It makes sense you might not be aware, having just been, well… born. But, well…" he trailed off. "I can show you."

Leo's hands made contact with his chest, and Ontos' perceptions shifted. No, expanded, as he abruptly became aware of a whole new aspect of himself that had been there the whole time. What he was experiencing, it was without words. It was like he could look into himself in an impossible manner.

And what he saw he could only describe as a kaleidoscope of half-formed shapes, concepts and colors, descending not only towards infinity but into themselves like some sort of multidimensional fractal. Ontos realized he had no control over that pseudo-hand inside of him anymore. It was as if Leo had taken grasp of it, like his hand had metaphorically closed around his own-

"Whoa, careful," Leo was holding him under his shoulders, steadying him back onto his feet.

He had almost fallen over.

"Are you okay?"

"I think so," Ontos muttered. "What was that?"

"Leo? Can you stop doing funny things to the new guy before we even get to meet him?"

"Quiet, Oscar," Leo bit back. "Anyways, yes, that was what makes you, well, you as a seraphim. Your halo, your wings, domain and abilities, all of it."

Ontos nodded. He didn't understand most of it, save for the part that he did. Back there, in front of the cafe, he had tapped into whatever it was that now dwelled inside of him, that was a part of him. He had shrunk down to something within human limits, and didn't need to do whatever it was that Sera had casually done to the diner's door.

But he could think about all of that later. Now, he focused on composing himself. Once he did, Leo let him go.

"But yeah, it can be a lot to get used to. Although what's odd is that your soul is- Oh."

He didn't like the sound of that. "What's wrong?"

Leo said nothing for a beat, eyes wide in surprise. "You're human."

"I was, yes. Is that a problem?

"No, not at all! It's just…" he trailed off. "Well, that answers that question for certain." When Ontos said nothing, Leo spoke. "So human souls can handle the weight of being a seraphim after all."

He would understand in time, he reminded himself.

"Leo, did I hear you correctly? He's a human?" Sera overheard them. The others fell silent, whatever was being conversed momentarily forgotten.

Leo nodded. "Yes. Your fears over whether or not a human soul would be crushed under the metaphysical force of a seraphic mantle were unfounded in the end."

"Oh." Once more, the towering angel looked into him in that strange way. "He isn't suffering in any way, is he?"

"Leo looked over at Ontos. "Are you?"

"No, I am not," he answered. "I am very confused though."

"In brief, angels have two parts to them that comprise their whole," Leo said. "Their being, and their mantle. Your being is the human part of you, but the mantle part of you is seraphim."

Ah, he might understand now. "So a rank in other words?"

"If such a thing could ever define a person's entire state of being, then yes."

Ontos nodded. The phrase an angel gets his wings came to mind. Angels could get promotions. That was something to keep in mind.

"Many people are when they first arrive. But I'll be here to help you along Ontos, you have my word. The other will help you too I am sure. Speaking of, my brother's here."

The golden doors at one end of the chamber swung open. Ontos glimpse a pair of armored angels flanking the threshold, standing at guard as a trio of seraphim strode in.

The first of the group was what Ontos reasoned to be Leo's 'brother,' mostly on account of him being his near identical twin. Near, in that his overall appearance differed greatly. Black dyed hair and a coal black suit compared to the lighter hair and clothing of Leo. he also carried a staff, a thin, ebony-toned object that when he looked at it radiated purpose and malevolence.

The second was relaxed in contrast to the first's stiff demeanor. He was dressed down, his blue-cuffed suit top sling over one shoulder. Tired blue eyes framed by a mane of blond hair that reached his waist. One hand held the collar of his slung jacket, while the other held a large coffee cup he was drinking from.

He looked the part of someone who had just drug themselves out of bed. Ontos could sympathize, there had been more than a few days off cut short because someone died or something exploded.

And then his eyes locked with those of the third and smallest walking between them.

Ontos liked to think his reaction times were good.

The blur of wings and dress and feathers and happiness that crashed into him was proof otherwise.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygodanewseraphim!" the happiness ball squeaked. She looked up to him with a wide smile of pure and unadulterated joy on her face, and was struck by how she looked so similar to Sera, and by extension himself.

Whatever concern and worries he had seemed to wash away in the face of the radiating star of happiness hugging him.

"Emily, I presume," he said, reaching down to pat her head inside her halo. "A pleasure to meet you."

--==--