by Nyla Ditson
“I will see you soon, Celeste,” he said simply.
Then he was gone. Like Kalan moments before him, he seemed to vanish before my very eyes. Knowing they can come and go like that frightened me. And it was disturbing to be left alone with my thoughts.
The buzzing at the door made me jump. I got up to let my roommate in once I realized what the sound was. Going to the intercom mounted on the wall, I pressed the button on the wall and then greeted my Filipino roommate, Malaya, with a smile and a “How was your day?” when she came inside. But my heart wasn’t in it. If you were to quiz me on what she had replied, I’d have drawn a blank.
I didn’t realize it then, but the next chapters of my life would prove to be life changing. And so began my twisted tale entwined with a demon and angel.
Chapter 3
“Let me check and see if we have it,” the librarian turned to her computer and began searching the data base for my request.
It’d been two days since that crazy night. There’d been no sign of either Kalan or Sebastian. But despite being absent in body, I felt strangely like I was being watched over. Sebastian’s promises of being nearby the entire time had never left my thoughts those last forty-eight hours.
Instead of sitting around and wondering what would happen next, I decided to do a little research. Bundling up early Saturday morning, I headed through the park trails behind the back of my building towards the library.
Last night I Googled “Books on Angels” and Gods Secret Agents by Billy Graham came up. Not having the patience to wait for it to arrive from Amazon, I decided to see if they had it at the library.
They did.
After following the librarian to a bookshelf in the back, I watched her run her fingers down the titles. She stopped on the spine of one with red and blue writing. Taking it off the shelf, she handed it to me with a smile. “There you go, dear.”
I found a table in the corner, near a row of unoccupied computers. The instant I sat down, a tidal wave of fresh grief washed over my entire body. Eyes pressed shut to keep the tears sealed in, I shuddered. The feeling of clawing at thin air, desperate for something to cling to, bombarded me.
Will this internal war—this agony—ever end? I doubted it, missing my dad wasn’t something that I could simply get over. I’ll never get to see him again, hear his laugh, go for late night walks with him . . .
The feelings from earlier today swept over me. I pictured myself at 7:00 am, spine crushed against the wall, sliding down, arms pinned across my midsection, trying to squeeze my ribs as hard as humanly possible. I thought it might distract me from the hollow, raw, ache of losing my dad.
It hadn’t.
I shook my head at the memory of this morning’s episode in the kitchen. I’d been waiting for my toast to pop when my eyes settled on the front of my dad’s funeral bulletin. Seeing his smiling face sent me crumpling to the floor in seconds.
I had personally rid the world of his smile… forever.
With great effort, I tore myself from the memory, my library surroundings coming back into focus. Gritting my teeth, I knew I needed a distraction. The book in my hand would have to do.
I lifted the worn book from the table and studied the cover. The famous evangelist Billy Graham’s name was enlarged at the top in red block letters. Underneath was the word ANGEL written five times in large letters, first in black and then switching between red and blue. I ran my thumb over the book’s title written in black.
God’s Secret Agents
I wasn’t sure what to think about that. Frowning, I turned the book over and saw there was a picture of Billy Graham on the back. He was wearing a blue suit with a red tie. I wondered if they chose the book’s front colours to match his ensemble, one that would’ve made Stacy and Clinton of TLC’S What Not to Wear cringe.
Brushing the random thought aside, I opened the cover and read the inscription on the inside flap. It claimed, in all capital letters, that angels were supposed to comfort and protect people in a crisis.
Yeah, I don’t think so. Where was a comforting angel when my dad died? I specifically remember feeling completely alone while I waited in the cold for the ambulance to arrive. Shaking my head, I skipped a few points and read the paragraph underneath the list. It talked about angels being in the Bible hundreds of times. But even so, people still question their legitimacy.
I flipped to the back continuing to read the book description, not that I was actually buying this cheesiness or anything. I was curious, that’s all.
The back flap mostly argued about angels’ definite existence and Billy Graham’s confidence in their purpose being to help earth’s people during tribulations. That and something about guiding Christians to God when they died.
Already there was a contradiction to this Billy guy’s claims. Umm, hello? I’m not even a smidgen religious. So why did I get a spirit guide after death?
Unable to answer my own question I decided to give the book a shot. “Okay, let’s see,” I said as I flipped the book open and skimmed the contents. I wasn’t sure what I was hoping to find, maybe something that indicated if Sebastian really was an angel.
Chapter 3, “Angels visible or invisible?” looked interesting. I went to page 27 but it was a letdown, packed full of dull stuff. But three pages into it I sat up. I read the line at the bottom of the page again. The description Billy Graham gave of angels could’ve been my own description of Sebastian.
Glorious . . . . stunning . . . . impressively beautiful . . . Awing to humans.
Next, there was a story I remembered my Grandpa telling me about a bright angel rolling away a stone. I didn’t want to read about some fiction story in the Bible so I didn’t finish the story. But on the next page a paragraph about angel’s invisibility caught my attention.
Hmm, so they can be visible, even according to a Bible thumper’s handbook . . . interesting.
I was about to close the book, feeling like this book was a biblical trap whose purpose was to snare readers into reading about religion, when another fact about angels met my eye. My eyes greedily gobbled up fragments of the sentences that held just what I was hoping to find.
Solid facts about angels and not about some stinkin’ religion.
I read through the detailed description that went beyond angels’ physical beauty. I learned they supposedly don’t age, get sick, or even have genders. My brows knit together over the part about angel’s participating in relationships that surpass the joy of sex. Then Billy included a line about sex on earth being a mere appetizer for what pleasures lays ahead in heaven for Christians.
Gah, you had to didn’t you, Billy? Adding something in about believers just made me want to close the book. If Sebastian wasn’t insanely intriguing, I would’ve slammed the book back on the dusty shelf where it came from. I wasn’t in the mood to be “saved” from my so called sins today. Or ever, thank you very much.
Annoyed by Billy Graham, I refused to read any of the following headings that had “God” in the title. I stopped at the one that said: Angels Do Not Marry or Procreate. The knowledge that the number of angels always remained the same, since they can’t die or have little baby angels was kind of cool.
Turning another page, I read under the heading The Knowledge of Angels that supposedly angels know things about us that we don’t even know about ourselves. But Billy seemed to think that they would always use that inside information for good and not to harm us.
I was about to dive into a paragraph about angels being able to sing or not when I felt someone sit down across from me. Without looking away from the book, I moved my purse closer to me so they’d have room for their books.
Tap, tap, tap
Ugh, what was that sound? Scrunching up my nose I realized it was a pencil being tapped against the wooden table.
Tap, tap
After a minute of this, I glanced up, a glare already in place. I absolutely hate when people disrupt me when I’m studying. “Do you mind…”
Oh. It was Sebastian. And he was smiling.
After I got over my shock, I set aside my book. “Do all angels find joy in annoying humans?”
He shrugged. “No, but I’ve noticed humans do it a lot to each other.” His amused expression bothered me. Did he have no empathy for my loss? My emotions? I watched him flip his head so his golden bangs swooped across his forehead. The gesture tempted my fingers to reach across the table and see for themselves if his hair was as soft as it looked.
“Sorry to disturb,” Sebastian interrupted my thought, still looking way too pleased with himself for appearing successfully human. “Please,” he motioned to the open book in front of me, “continue.”
And I did. But I could feel his gaze on me the entire time. It made it extremely difficult to concentrate. After the tenth attempt, the first line of a paragraph still didn’t make sense.
Finally, I closed the book with a sigh. Or maybe it was a huff. Whatever it was, I wasn’t happy. Sebastian, on the other hand, looked approving of my decision. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. Like all the other times I’d seen him, his eyes sparkled with light. “You don’t have to read a book, Celeste.” His smiled turned lopsided. “You could ask me whatever you wanted to know.” Sebastian leaned back and grinned. “Not to brag or anything but I am kind of an expert on angels.”
Wow. This guy, uh, I mean angel was getting the hang of this human stuff. He was playing the part of a charming and irresistible hunk perfectly. Hmmm, I wonder how many angels there are on Broadway . . .
“Two,” he said.
I frowned. “Pardon?”
“There are two angels currently in Broadway, assisting people involved in shows.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
“You didn’t.”
I narrowed my eyes at the pale and yet brilliantly bright skinned boy. “Angels can read minds?”
“Not at all,” he answered. Sebastian picked up his pencil and started tapping it on the table again. “But I happen to know someone who can.”
I wasn’t sure what to think about this God business or if I believed this mind reading nonsense. A small part of me was still unsure Sebastian even was an angel.
Sebastian spread his arms open. “Ask me anything.”
“Are you honest to God an angel?”
He frowned at me, his beautiful blue-grey eyes narrowing. I suspected he didn’t like the way I worded the question. It wasn’t my fault he was a religious nut. To me, it was just a phrase. I wasn’t dissing his leader by saying His name in vain or whatever those church folks dubbed it.
When he didn’t answer, I gathered my hair into a pony tail at the nape of my neck and tried again. “I mean, are you really an angel?”
“Much better.”
“Well, are you?”
He smiled, his white teeth putting to shame all the models for Crest White Strips ads. “Do you think I am?”
“Don’t do that,” I told him, annoyed.
He looked surprised. “What?”
“Answer my question with another question.”
Chuckling, Sebastian leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “It’s not like confirming your inquiry would entirely rid you of your skepticism.”
“It’s not my fault I was brought up in a society that rejects the supernatural.”
“True.”
I sighed, letting my hair fall back to my shoulders and looked longingly back at the book. Even with all the references to the Bible and God, Billy Graham’s book was more helpful than Sebastian.
Feeling something hit me on the cheek, I looked up. Sebastian grinned at me. “An angel just threw a pencil at you, day dreamer.”
My mouth hung open. There was my answer. And this angel was proving to be most annoying. If only he weren’t so darn good looking.
“Why thank you, you’re not bad yourself.”
Mortified, I started to gather my things. I’d forgotten that Sebastian claimed he had that little talent. But hadn’t the book said angels were supposed to use their inside information for good purposes? I was pretty sure humiliating me wouldn’t be considered good to God.
“Hey,” I stopped moving when Sebastian reached for my hand. “Sorry, I’ll tone it down.” I squinted at him in confusion as he explained his meaning. “We rarely get the opportunity to take on human form, so I’m a little excited. But I’ll stop trying to be so convincingly human, okay?”
I stared at him and then nodded. Since it was early, the library was still quiet. Even so I made sure my voice was low. “How old are you, Sebastian?”
“As old as earth.”
“I was hoping for a conceivable number.”
“Next question.”
Glaring at him, I mentally scrolled through the list of questions I’d silently wondered about in his absence these past two days. “Do angels eat?”
“Depends on your cooking.”
“I thought you weren’t going to act all human on me.”
“Sorry,” Sebastian flashed me a grin. “No, we don’t have to eat but sometimes we do in human form.”
“Why?”
“Eating is a way to connect with people, show respect, and bond. It’s like a tool to knit us closer to the ones we protect.”
I hated to admit it, but being in the presence of his vibrant personality made me feel better. Almost like his enjoyment of life was contagious. “Do you sleep?”
“My body doesn’t need to be rejuvenated the way yours does. But I can sleep, it’s just very surface level.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think of it this way. I’m a light sleeper. I’m aware of everything around me as I sleep…” His voice trailed off and then he shrugged. “The easiest way to explain it is that, when I sleep, I’m just in a slightly more relaxed state than when I’m fully conscious.”
“Weird.”
Smiling, Sebastian winked at me.
“I just have one more question.”
“I doubt that but what do you want to know?”
I licked my lips, afraid I would sound like a child. Then I frowned. “Hey, why do I even have to tell you? Can’t you search my thoughts and just know what I’m wondering?”
“No, I only know the thoughts of yours that God chooses to reveal to me. Angels are not omniscient like the Lamb.”
I found that hard to believe. God chose to allow Sebastian to hear me think he was hot? Did Sebastian really think I’d fall for his master having a sick sense of humour?
Seeing Sebastian smirk, my frown deepened. “What?”
“I can personally vouch that yes, God does have a sense of humour. Though not a sick one as you so amusingly put it.”
A growl slipped out from my throat. I didn’t know whether to be flustered, embarrassed or seething mad. My emotions were all over the place these days. But then again, why did I have to pick a single emotion to feel? I felt copious amounts of all three.
“You were going to ask me something?”
As mad as I was, I wasn’t about to throw away this golden chance to glean more information from Sebastian. “How were angels created?” I asked.
“By God.”
Yeah, yeah. I know I’d been open to the concept of God in the hallway but now… I just didn’t know. “No, I meant how.” When Sebastian didn’t answer I sighed. Trying again, I pressed, “Do people become angels when they die?”
His answer came quick. “No, the number of angels always remains constant.” Seeing my scrutiny he smiled. “Yes, I too have read God’s Secret Agents. Billy Graham gave a fairly accurate account on ang
els.”
“You are so annoying.”
Sebastian smiled. “How so?”
“You never answer my questions, at least not directly.” I said, feeling exhausted, like I’d just run a marathon full tilt, no breaks. Maybe I should’ve taken mom up on her offer and gone home with her and Nate for a while . . .
“Maybe you should have but what’s done is done. No sense regretting the undoable.” Sebastian shrugged before replying to my earlier comment. “Sometimes a person doesn’t get their desired answers because it is not time for them to know.”
I sighed, as I half-heartedly mused over this idea and almost missed Sebastian’s next words. “But I believe your question about the creation of angels does merit an answer.”
I felt my eyes widen in surprise and leaned forward making the plastic orange chair beneath me creak. “Yeah?”
He nodded and brought his hand up to brush aside his golden bangs. “God created the heavenly hosts and designed us to assist those on earth on His behalf. We are God’s advocates and the thing that brings us the greatest joy is when a lost soul turns to God and embraces His open arms and His offered gift of freedom from their dark lives.”
Even though I claimed that was my last question I had to ask, “Why are you here, with me?”
Sebastian’s eyes flickered away from me. At first I thought it was because he didn’t want to answer but then I realized he was staring at something behind me. Turning to look over my shoulder, I watched my good friend, Sam Kaeo, approach our table. His lime green North Face rain jacket made his Filipino colouring even more noticeable. I noticed the top of Sam’s black faux hawk was dripping and shuddered. I hate the rain, it messes up my hair. Blow drying and straightening once every day is a pain. Unfortunately when it rains I’m sometimes forced to redo that part of my beauty routine. Not that I should even care about what I look like anymore. People will always see me as a killer . . .
Shoving my dark thoughts away, I focused on the water drops on Sam’s jacket. The weather has been off ever since yesterday. It should not be raining cats and dogs the first week of February. It’s rained an insane amount, even for famously rainy British Columbia. Maybe the weather gods have their calendars stuck on Saskatchewan spring precipitation…