Returning to work gave me time to let everything sink in. My brain works better under stress, running for 12 hour and collapsing onto a soft mattress afterward did me good. Holding pressure against a half amputated ear, I’m an Angel. Plugging in the leads for an EKG, I have a brother. Holding back someone hair as they vomit, he’s trying to kill me.
Each epiphany hits me when my concentration is fully elsewhere. It was my brain being kind. Each fact seemed more manageable than whatever calamity I was trying to correct. Falling into auto-nurse-mode was so familiar and easy, nothing could phase me while I wore scrubs.
Dumah visited me a few time. We’d gone over my Catharsis. She took her time describing what she saw and felt. She explained that from the height of the flames and the intensity of the heat, that my powers would be more focused in the area of manipulating flesh. She didn’t think that I’d be able to move inanimate objects or influence the weather, but if I was interested in these things, at a later date, she knew a few choice Angels that could help me. She said that the chard remains of my stage also said a lot, mostly about my lineage. She promised to explain more later.
It came out of her in a rush ending with her impression that I had the potential to be the most powerful Angel to have a Catharsis. There was something comforting about her calculated descriptions. It made me want to trust her, she wasn’t just pulling these things out of her ass. I didn’t even mind her baby girling the crap out of me the whole time.
A few other Angels visited. Laoth for one, she actually spent a few nights. At first she came to offer help with mind reading. I told her how impressed I’d been with her hair the first time we’d met and offered her a drink. She pointed at the Sailor Jerry’s that still sat on my kitchen counter, a mischievous smile on her face. Things were easy with Laoth, she had a fondness for rum that matched me own and we became fast friends. Later, she told me that Samael had ordered her visit.
“He worries about you. I’ve never seen my Dominion worry.” She said on the third night.
I was still wearing my work scrubs, we were both laying on the carpet, enjoying the alcohol headiness. “It’s because I’m so useless,” I said giggling, not sure why I thought it was funny.
She laughed and jabbed my side, “your an idiot!”
I bat her hand away, I close my eyes and smile, “It’s been so long since I’ve had a friend.” Gratefulness and rum warming my chest.
“I love you maaaan,” she slurs, jabbing my with her elbow.
Peliel, the green skin Virtue, also visited. He’d popped in at the hospital during on of my lunch breaks. His skin was a warm hazelnut that day, his height closer to my height. We ate together at the cafeteria, he’d chosen a plate of fries and a bowl of jello, green jello. Our conversation was a low as explained how difficult this Angel Tribunal was becoming.
Apparently the world’s pause button would have to be pressed during the meeting. This would be done in order to allow every Angel to leave their posts and participate. The preparation was tedious because the coordination must be spot on the first time. And it all needs to happen before the March equinox when night time becomes shorter than day time. The timing would have to be perfect. The dominions were hoping to commence at midnight in Moscow, the moment with the largest population of Humans will be asleep.
He tells me not to expect any Angel visitors. The Angels will be staying close to their muses as they try to build their Scentia in preparation. “You should be doing the same.” He adds, raising his eyebrows when I sigh in response. “Is there a problem with your Muse?” he asks.
“No, no.” I shake my head as his raised eyebrows. Yes I think behind a brick wall that LAoth to create in my mind.
The problem with David, wasn’t so much a problem between the two of us as it was a problem in ethics. He didn’t believe that Muses should be used the way they were. I agreed with him on that perspective, I didn’t want to “use” him, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t need him. Over the last few weeks I’d taken to adding my Scentia to the medical treatment my patient was receiving. I was fine tuning my skills in that way. Try to gradually cure one thing or another.
I’d made mistakes of course. Healing an infected wound in minutes was pretty suspicion. So was correcting someone heartbeat. They were grateful, I could hear it in their thoughts, feel it in their emotions, but after ten years of A-fib disappearing over night people became mistrustful. I also had a hard time turning my Scentia off. The fears and pain of the entire floor would walk up and smack me in the face. I was lucky, David and I often had the same shifts. During those moments he seemed to since the change in the air and come to me. His hand on my skin, usually just above my elbow was like an instant Xanax.
He was always angry about those moments. First, I was interrupting him at work. Second, it left him tired. It wasn’t until he sat me down at the end of our shift and explained what happened to him that I understood this. I’d been back to work for three days and came to him at least six times each day. I’d thought of it like keeping your gas tank half full at all times, I didn’t want to crash at work. I didn’t know my limits yet.
“It feels like blood loss,” He says opening his car door for me. The plan was to go to dinner, attempted date number two. I slide in feeling like scum as I buckle my seat belt. His door closes with a smack and he starts the car before adding “I can feel my blood pressure bottom out. My pulse increases, I break out into a sweat, and sometime I have vertigo.”
Before he added the word vertigo to his list I was feeling pretty low, but the word made me perk up, my usual attitude making my words sharp. “So pretty much the way I’m feeling before you help?” I ask.
“You are choosing to put yourself in that position.” He says flatly.
I glare at the side of his head as he pulls out of the parking lot. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t be helping people?”
“No, it’s just that you were helping people without your Scentia.”
“And you want me to go back to that?” I ask between clenched teeth.
The car comes to a halt at the stoplight, the question hanging in the air between us. “I don’t want to argue Wylie. If your in trouble I’ll come to you; otherwise, we can meet up at the end of your shift.”
I don’t respond. His request was acceptable, but it still hurt. My appetite was suddenly gone. I turn to stare out my window hopelessly, searching the rising for strength. “I think you should take me back home.” I whisper.
He jerks the car into a spot to our right, slamming the breaks so hard that I fly forward into my seat belt. “What the hell!” He turns to me, his knuckles turning white as he squeezes the steering wheel. “I’m trying to be reasonable!”
With a click I release my belt from my lap and I push the door open. “Lets talk about this later, I’m too upset right now.” I get out of the car, my breath suddenly ragged. I pushed at my eyes trying not to cry.
I’ve seen scenes like that in the movies. The girl gets out, mascara running down her face, she trots away in her high heels and thigh high sequenced skirt thinking, “Come get me. Come apologize.” That was not what was going through my head, and that wasn’t what I was wearing.
I had my white nurse tennis, and a white turtleneck under my midnight blue scrubs. All that was going through my head was WTF! It was like my thought process was constipated. I knew I was right and I knew that David was right and I knew it was fucking colder than a witches tit. It’s early morning and the sky was black. I rubbed my arms as I walked.
In this scenario the asshole in the car usually did one of two things. Speed away, tires squeaking, or jump out of the car to beg for the woman to get back in. I didn’t wait for either. There’s no place like home! I made like Dorothy, closed my eyes tight said a little prayer in my head, and skipping the whole heel clicking things beamed myself to my apartment. I landed ass first in the rhododendron bush. The leaves were crispy with frost, the branches tearing into my leg through my pants.
I got myself into my apartment and cranked up the wall heater, the room filled with the smell of burning dust. I pulled out my phone. Sorry about that, didn’t think it would actually work. My test delivered with a beep. I’m good with your plan. See you tomorrow.
I didn’t get a text back, just saw him the next day. We started our daily post work recharge sessions, our conversations nothing deeper than the most interesting wound we’d seen that day. about a week later Sam had me over for dinner. I had fun, even if I felt like I was lying to her the whole. David offered me a ride home and I invited him in.
The kissing couldn’t wait for us to get inside. For a long time he pushed me against my door, the keys still in the nob, his lips on my neck. That’s the thing with us, we were so good at the physical stuff. What was the point in talking. It always ended with an argument. Kissing, well at least I knew that would end well.
Things got easier after that exchange. We found a mutual happy place, defined our boundaries mentally and learned that both of us did better when we could tangle our limbs with the other at least once a week.
Three days ago Samael showed up. I was at the Safeway on 11th. Strolling through the dairy isle. I was stuck in the yogurt section, comparing the sugar content of greek yogurt options. There was no question about it, the plain was the healthiest option, too bad it tasted like ass cheese. I stared down at a vanilla flavored tub longingly. The weight loss of mourning was slowly returning to my hips as I settled into my new role of Angel. The anxiety making me force food down my throat until my solid gut provided comfort. Hence the grocery store trip and the carb counting
I throw the ass cheese yogurt into my cart and mope further down the aisle.
“Wylie?” I didn’t recognize the youthful voice coming from behind me, the corners of my lips automatically lifting at the crack of the voice as a squeaked out the “ee” in my name. I turned to fine a bepimpled teenager. The kid was about my height, a handsome jock that somehow looked familiar.
“Yeah,” I answer, trying to place is sandy blond hair and grass green eyes. It was the square, masculine jaw that brought recognition with a gasp. “Samael?” I whisper.
Teen Samael smiled. His pearly white gleaming in the florescent grocery store lights. I puzzled over his expression, the grin wasn’t a very Samael thing to do, but it did suit the young man who stood in front of me. “Yeah,” his says a blowing up out of the corner of his mouth to push the hair off forehead. Again, I was struck by the strangeness, his easy stance, his longish hair just wasn’t right.
“You seem different,” I finally say, bursting out into a laugh.
He guffaws “Yeah, being a teenage is quite a ride,” his cheeks turn red, “I mean with the lack of inhibitions and the mood swings.” He rubs at his cheeks awkwardly.
“So?” I hang onto the word, making my question obvious. When he doesn’t answer I add “Why?”
“Um,” he giggles, actually giggles, “It’s the only way I can spend time with Sam. I have like four classes with her, you know I need to gather as much Scentia as I can.”
“Oh, well that makes sense. I’m guessing David doesn’t know?” I ask.
“That duesch? Hells no!” The words spill from his mouth and his eyes widen in shock even as he finishes the sentence.
I snort, “I guess, you’ve been absorbing new lingo too?”
He shrugs, his lettermen jacket bouncing up and down on his shoulders. “High school is the true battle ground. I barely survive four classes and lunch with those heathens. I guess spending time with Sam is worth it.”
My brow furrows in response to this confession. “You’re not going to break her heart when stop going to school are you?”
“Not sure what you mean?”
Damn, this guy is clueless. I thought about junior year of high school. I would have been writing my first name before his last name and drooling every time he talked to me. And Sam is so vulnerable right now, it would be easy for her to mistake attention from the hot buff boy at the desk next to her for something else.
“Oh,” he says, apparently reading my mind. “Ha!” he’s laughing again, “never thought about that. Maybe I should have asked you to help me plan this out, girlie.” Our eyes are locked, and he lifts his hand, moving it towards my face. It’s an inch away from my cheek before he shakes his head and drops his hands to his side, pumping it in and out of fists.
He nods to my basket. “You want to keep shopping, and I’ll explain why I’m here visiting you?”
I turn back to my basket, pushing it forward. He falls into pace at my side, “Shoot!” I say.
“The tribunal has been scheduled,” His voice is lower,his shoulders hunched towards me, his hand up in an exaggerated consolatory gesture. “You’ve got a week to prepare.”
I grab a box of cookies and toss in in my cart in response.
“On Sunday Laoth will come for you.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and I feel myself shrinking away from Samael-teenage-heart-throb. “Any questions?”
I stop and turn to him. There was something that has been bugging me. “My brother, have you learned anything else?”
darlinglynae 