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Inevitably, I had to slow down a few times, namely when passing borders between territories. Contrary to Hell, there were no turf wars up here, and therefore border security was less tight in general, but traffic between domains was nevertheless a thing that needed monitoring.
At least for territories belonging to angels of the same rank within an archangel’s domain, or for the border between archangel territories. There were few to no controls for sub-territories of lower-ranking angels within their superior angel’s domain, like when going from a cherub’s territory to the main territory of the seraph under whom the cherub served, for example.
But in general, the border patrols were more of a way to tally traffic numbers. The angels in charge still liked to know who was coming and going and why, even if just for bragging rights. Look, my territory is more popular than yours.
As soon as I told the patrols who checked me that I was on a messenger run to Naamah, they waved me through, no questions asked. The clout she had was amazing.
It took me hours to get to her place. Through Derdekea’s territory, into Dahariel’s, then through that of another seraph, whose domain bordered a cherub’s in Archangel Gabriel’s dominion. Miles and miles of heavenly nature, meadows and rivers and lakes and rolling hills all infused with the breath of divinity, and I cared as much about it as I had about Hell’s apocalyptic scenery. The beauty I’d once thought so ethereally stunning now seemed hollow, my eyes seeing nothing but a facade for the same kind of cruelty and ruthlessness as I’d come to know in Hell.
Whoever believed angels to be all kind and gentle really should have paid more attention to how they’d been portrayed in early Christianity, before the more tamed, romanticized iterations of their public image had taken hold.
Because the former was a whole lot closer to the truth.
I almost sobbed with relief when the outline of the palace Naamah resided in came into view.
Refusing to claim a territory for herself and bind a veritable army of lower-ranking angels to her service, as was standard for a seraph of her power, Naamah had instead chosen to bunk down in Gabriel’s very own residence, much to his annoyance, as I’d heard. More than once, so the rumors went, Gabriel had offered her a sizable domain to please move out, only for Naamah to somehow seize more of his mansion for herself in response. Her ability to entrench herself in his home against his will while eschewing any hard consequences was as baffling as it was impressive.
The whole thing reminded me of a giant dog being pushed out of his bed inch by inch by the mere presence of a cat a third his size.
And apparently, it wasn’t an option for Gabriel to completely move out instead. Something about not losing face, I guessed. Or simply male stubbornness.
I’d always wondered why it seemed Gabriel was somehow on Naamah’s shit list. Now that I had my memories back and recalled the full tale of her backstory, I wondered no more.
Gabriel had been the one who’d granted Azrael’s pardon when he’d fled Hell.
Much like her son, Naamah could hold a grudge for millennia.
To be fair, though, she wasn’t even home all that much, so Gabriel didn’t have to contend with her disrupting the affairs of his estate all the time.
She had a habit of flitting around various territories and inconveniencing unsuspecting high-ranking angels with her impromptu visits—no one knew how to handle her, and she reveled in their discomfort. Was she supposed to be treated like a high-profile guest of honor though she held no formal titles? Would she be piqued if she didn’t receive the welcome fit for a seraph with her own territory, no matter the fact that she didn’t hold one despite her immense innate power? Or would she be affronted if they rolled out the metaphorical red carpet for her when all she wanted was to meander through the territory without being fussed over?
Matters were made worse by how Naamah changed her mind about this all of the time—naturally, without telling anyone beforehand. She had the unique talent of making powerful, millennia-old angels fall over themselves not to displease her, delighting in how they’d scramble to accommodate her.
And more often than not, after the lord or lady of the domain she visited had completely rearranged their schedule to wine and dine her, she’d end up in the stables instead, drinking round after round of amrit with the lower-ranking angels who worked there.
If chaos were a person, it’d be her.
I just hoped she’d be home this time. I couldn’t stand the thought of not being able to reach her, of maybe having to wait for her to return in order to talk to her about Azazel.
I landed outside the palace, a massive castle that looked gothically beautiful despite its size, courtesy of its various turrets, high-arched windows, and manifold carvings along the walls. As with the patrols, I got waved right on through by the staff at the entrance as soon as I mentioned Naamah’s name.
I walked through the huge double doors and into the cavernous lobby beyond, only to stop short at the sight of Gabriel. Archangel Gabriel, his power filling every nook and cranny of this room, a heavy press of strong magic against my skin. He was frowning at a missive in his hands, strands of his dark blond hair falling into his face, his golden tan glowing warmly in the light of the chandeliers.
I only stared at him for a second, then I went down on both knees, laid my hands on the floor, and touched my forehead to the cool marble. “Your Highness.”
“Rise,” he said, his voice sounding as if he’d barely paid attention to me. I wondered how many times a day lower-ranking angels threw themselves onto the floor to properly greet him. Didn’t it become tedious to keep having to tell them to get back to their feet?
This whole prostrating-out-of-deference thing was so ridiculous. A bunch of medieval bullshit, if you asked me, but of course, no one did ask me. I was a part of this stupid system, and I didn’t have enough power to tell them all to fuck off, so I had to play according to their rules.
I stood with more grace than I remembered having in my human life, which was a weird realization. I’d been an angel for years now, but since I hadn’t recalled anything from being mortal, I’d just taken the speed and fluidity of my new angel body for granted. Now that I remembered the weight of my human years, I marveled at the changes in how I could move.
“Oh,” Gabriel said, pulling my attention to him again. He’d finally deigned to look at me, his beautiful features pinched. “You’re one of hers, aren’t you?”
I frowned before understanding hit me. “Yes, Your Highness. I’m here to see Naamah. Is she home?”
His expression soured. “Unfortunately.”
Yesss. I sucked in a relieved breath. “If you don’t mind, Your Highness, I’ll go see her now.”
