Trouble with Angels

by S E Holmes

“You genuinely think such a childish plan will stop my Master in his mighty purpose? I pity your ilk and your infernal optimism,” Jam taunted.

  “And I pity your ilk for having to endure your relentless gibberish!” Nimbus said half-heartedly. “I can see why they abandoned you. They’ve probably been waiting for an excuse to dump you since you first learned to talk!”

  After two hours of Jam’s unceasing attitude and yap, Nimbus was fed-up. He might have preferred to combat ongoing bids for freedom or displays of sorcery instead of all the complaint. But, Jam seemed determined to reunite with Celestial and out of devotion to her had not lifted a hostile finger in revenge for his imprisonment.

  He had in fact dogged Nimbus like some psychotic, wordy shadow as they deposited phoney versions of the Book throughout the northern reaches of Europe. There had only been a couple of minor incidents on their journey, one of which had nothing to do with Jam. Rather, it involved Nimbus and a close encounter with a spiny anteater. He was still jittery as a result. Jam amused himself for a while afterwards ridiculing Nimbus’s fear of spiky animals, until accidentally letting slip that he was pathologically afraid of camels, which thereafter had a neutralising effect on any nature-inspired bullying.

  The other event occurred early in the piece when Jam melodramatically sat at the point of the Eiffel Tower. He refused to budge and raved about missed opportunities in the City of Romance, his inability to continue without Celestial by his side, and other, more luridly descriptive topics. Nimbus vowed these would remain forever unmentioned, no threat capable of scaring the acts Jam described from his lips. Nimbus had no idea a body could accomplish such feats and shamefully resorted to promising an evening out with Celestial, if only Jam would move! Celestial would be less than delighted, Nimbus forced to swear an oath on his date pledge that would be difficult to weasel out of.

  It was not just the constant stream of abuse either. Jam was a genius at grotesque body functions, which he indulged abundantly. Nimbus though it likely the black angel had befouled every location they’d visited, hacking and urinating his way across the globe. He resembled an obsessive-compulsive mongrel, marking its territory.

  “I give you due warning. If you contaminate our final destination in any way, the creatures that live there will rip you apart and that’s the best of it!”

  “There is no threat you can make that will frighten me. I reside in the bowels of the Nether-World with beings so evil, you could not possibly conceive of them in your very worst nightmares. And then there’s Azazel! When he catches you, he will make you pop and crackle like a grub on the griddle as a mere appetiser.”

  “Enough of this sword measuring contest. Mine’s the longest by far! Grubs? That’s truly gross,” Nimbus said distastefully.

  “No, that’s dinner! And your sword’s a plastic cafeteria-knife by comparison, not even sharp!”

  “You eat grubs?” Nimbus asked, his curiosity piqued. “What do they taste like?”

  They appeared on a massive glacier in the midst of an isolated frozen wilderness. A towering obelisk, delicately wrought in ice loomed over them. It glistened in shades of palest blue, shimmering as if a barely perceived oasis in the thin sunlight.

  “Azazel says that eating worms reminds us of our lowly rank. They taste kind of like salty chicken. I wish I could be more specific. Apparently everything tastes like chicken. Where in the Devil’s gall-bladder are we? I come from an arid climate, the temperature here is not good for my complexion. I do not want my beloved ferret to see me looking peaky!”

  “Mark my words, you call Celestial a ‘ferret’ to her face and a patchy epidermis will be the least of your concerns.”

  “I like ‘em feisty!”

  Nimbus had to hand it to him, Jam certainly was persistent. “We are at Ellesmere Island in Canada, close to the North Pole. We’re visiting some very dear friends. Queen Skylar of the Ice Nymphs and their Polar Bear Spirits.”

  Jam nodded knowingly. “I have heard of this snow witch. They say she is very powerful and commands the Aurora Borealis and all things winter. Her ghostly bears are fierce indeed! Her warrior’s spears are made from Orca Ivory and have magical properties.”

  “Yes and if you label Skylar a witch again she will know it and freeze off the valued articles you so vividly referred to back in Paris. After she’s done, if you have a sword left at all, it will resemble a thumb-tack.”

  A portly figure rambled out to greet them, a raised glass filled with a clear liquid in hand. “Nimbush my son, well met! Come join th’ partayy. Eshel, eshelnt … great liqueurs! Skylar brews them with her very own two hands!” Hiccough. “All welcome! Although... Shhh!” Bacchus raised a stray finger, aimed for his mouth and achieved his cheek instead. “Don’t sing them folk songs. Seems to bring on bladder problems, all vacate for the lavatory at once! Bring your pal Lam.” Bacchus screwed his face in bemused concentration. “No, no… Pram! Yesh, thas it! He can join the fun!”

  Nimbus sighed stoically. “It appears you are the fun!”

  Bacchus giggled and patted him affectionately. “That I am lad, that I am!”

  Jam viewed Nimbus sympathetically. “Many of the imps in my world are often drunk and disruptive.”

  Bacchus wobblingly ushered them inside where they were greeted by Ice Maidens bearing beautifully wrought wreathes of crystal snow. They were clad in diamond and silver, with sparklingly frosted eyelashes and hair, their blue-tinged skin so pale as to be almost translucent. Every surface within the amazing castle twinkled and dazzled.

  Two Nymphs stepped up to bestow Nimbus with a garland of intricate icicles, when Jam peeked timidly out from behind his back. On catching sight of Jam they let out long eerie screeches -- the sound of wind whistling over barren peaks. They dropped the ceremonial necklaces, which smashed in a tinkling crescendo, and then the entire court floated swiftly away, deserting their guests in the impressively ornate foyer.

  Bacchus seemed instantly sober. “Bit of a wet blanket. Aren’t you, Flan?”

  “You didn’t inform the Queen I was bringing Jam? Does Skylar even know what’s going on or does she believe this to be a social call?” Nimbus addressed Bacchus as though a wayward, hard-of-hearing toddler, every word over-emphasised.

  He received a mumbled response that could have included the words “wearied from travels”, “welcoming hospitality”, and “remarkable smorgasbord”, but Nimbus did not require further elaboration. He wished Celestial was available to deliver a scathing rebuke. “Has Celestial made it back yet?” Jam was immediately attentive.

  “Er, not as such,” their Guardian said evasively. “But she cannot be far away. She did not have too many more books than I.”

  Before Nimbus could comment (it would not have been favourable), he noticed Skylar hovering at the top of the winding staircase. The majestic Queen soared serenely down to them, her shining filmy robes trailing her wake, her waist length silvery hair wafting about her radiant face. She stopped briefly in front of Nimbus to reverently kiss his forehead and proceeded passed him to Jam.

  From within the folds of her gown she produced a frozen crystal ball, known as the Sphere of the Oracle, balancing it between them as she faced him. She cupped it in one hand and circled the other above it where a swirling mist became visible. The vapours increased, sinuous tendrils wrapping about Jam as he stood rooted apprehensively to the spot. Skylar entered a trance-like state, humming softly. Nimbus raised a cautioning finger, indicating that if Jam knew what was good for him, he would defy his natural urge to make trouble, stand still, and take his potion.

  After a moment the Queen stirred, staring intently at Jam, and then slowly she gave him a saintly smile and bowed respectfully. She announced prophetically in a soft, lilting voice. “Darkness exists only in the absence of light, Jomjael of the Fallen. Be the moth to illumination and you shall be saved. Come most sacred youth, Nimbus. There is much to ponder. I entrust Jam’s well-being to you, Bacchus, he is welcome in our halls.”


  “Don’t forget to show him where the amenities are!” Nimbus hastily advised. “And carry napkins at all times!”

  Jam wore a confused frown, his calls fading as Bacchus led him away. “Do I have to be the moth? How about Mont, the hawk-headed god of war? A death-raptor maybe? Can’t I at least be the bald eagle or something a little more lethal? We eat moths for breakfast…”

  Skylar turned her saintly visage to Nimbus and offered him her arm as they ascended the stairs to the highest glass-walled chamber with a panoramic view of the glacial tundra. Once they were seated and the attendants had left food and beverages, Nimbus impolitely breached formalities as his swelling worry burst free.

  “Celestial has not returned! She’s more efficient than Bacchus and I combined. She should have been here by now. Something bad has happened to her, I can feel it!”

  “We shall see. Allow me to scry for her.” The Queen retrieved her orb and set it on the table in front of them.

  She lent down and a dainty diamond and filigreed pendant about her neck dangled over the softly glowing sphere. The jewel oscillated gently and Skylar closed her eyes to interpret the signals. A troubled expression crept over her face and her brows knitted with renewed focus. Eventually she sat back.

  “All is obscured. The Ethereal Realm is shrouded by an impenetrable mist. I cannot distinguish Celestial. She is deliberately hidden, but I read grave danger coming nearer --” A loud boom broke her discourse.

  “What was that?” Nimbus glanced around uncertainly.

  “Something forbidden has forced its way onto our lands. Our defences have been penetrated.”

  Nimbus was too desolate to care; his Other was missing and in peril. He did not know where his dearest Celestial was, let alone how to help her. This felt far worse than the loss of his wing due to feather-rot. Their efforts to throw Azazel off would come to nought if Celestial had been taken. She would make a most effective ransom, as she was worth so much more than the Book. The Queen issued psychic commands to her troops, but Nimbus grieved, oblivious of the turmoil of activity about him.

  “It comes!” Skylar announced.

  She grasped Nimbus about the elbow and teleported him to a wide balcony, overlooking the entrance to the ice palace. They positioned at the balustrade in front of a line of Snow Warriors standing at rigid attention. Bacchus typically loitered at the opposite end of the terrace, next to the laden banquet tables, as though preparing to resist any challenges to his culinary children.

  A hyper-vigilant Jam fidgeted next to him. Beneath them two black figures could be detected approaching across the wide white expanse. They stopped at a distance in front of the castle and Nimbus could now make them out by squinting through the frigid haze. It was a Dark Angel accompanied by some huge monstrosity straining on its lead and clawing the air. Mad snarls echoed over the valley and a gag-inducing stink assailed their nostrils.

  “I come for my brother!” a supernaturally amplified voice rumbled forth. “Release him and we will return to our kingdom.”

  This would not be ideal: Jam knew too much about their intentions. He stepped to the edge. It was clear to Nimbus he was torn between staying for Celestial (he did not know she was lost) or leaving with Ram, for that’s who had brazenly entered Skylar’s dominion uninvited. He was no longer disadvantaged by extra ears and noses. To add to his menace, Ram erupted into blood-red flame. The snow at his feet hissed and released plumes of steam, which hung about him in an ill-omened cloud. He caught sight of Jam staring down at him, as did the hideous beast which whined in acknowledgment and began a deformed dance, its back end and long barbed stinger writhing from side to side. Ram struggled to keep it under control.

  Nimbus was struck by sudden recognition; it was the slavering three-headed Hell Hound. The beast guarded the gates of the Underworld against convicted shades trying to get out and mortals that did not yet belong (not that anyone alive ever tried to break-in of their free-will). Nimbus could not believe it, the thing was happily wagging its tail for Jam.

  “Go home, Ram! The rest will not have me like this! They’ll kill me if I come back with you,” Jam shouted.

  Ram’s face lit up. “I searched the inner circles of Dis and found a Hollywood stylist to dye your hair and feathers until the curse wears off. Don’t worry! He’s really good at what he does. He’s only down with us because he sowed discord. Too much cruel gossip. Besides, we’re winning, Jam! Azazel has the statue girl and we can trade her for the Book!”

  Nimbus gasped; his worst fears were true! His stomach constricted for Celestial. At Ram’s admission a change came over Jam. He immediately made to leap over the balcony and join his rescuer, wings spread wide in readiness to flee. At the same time, Ram’s great black dog broke free, galloping towards Skylar’s home. Many events crashed together at once.

  A low gong sounded from somewhere deep within and the ice structure groaned alarmingly. Twelve massive snow white Bears materialised in an impassable ring below them at the foot of the palace walls. They roared deafeningly and Nimbus covered his ears. The Bears marched shoulder-to-shoulder making an unstoppable beeline for the recklessly charging dog, which was too ferocious or too stupid to halt its course. Ram’s hands blazed and he launched huge fireballs at the oncoming bears. His pyrotechnics glancing harmlessly off their dense fur to fizzle in puddles of rising fog.

  “Buttercup here! Here dog, here!” Ram called urgently.

  Bacchus lunged for Jam just as he was airborne, grabbing a handful of feathers to haul him from the railing back onto the tiles, where he pinned the escapee with a foot. As their Guardian completed this highly coordinated manoeuvre, moving faster than Nimbus imagined possible, he used his free hand to grapple with a large platter of meat, tossing it as though a discus back over the dog and over Ram’s head. The spinning plate dropped roast beef as it hurtled through the atmosphere and the dog spun to follow the delicious treats, running by its still shouting owner and gobbling the edible trail as it went.

  The Polar Bears halted their progression, facing down a now magnificently outclassed Ram, who had no choice but to admit defeat and pursue his rebellious pet, running pell-mell. As the risk declined, the Bears faded slowly into the snow and all went silent. Bacchus could be heard scuffling with Jam, who fought violently to break out of his grip.

  “A little help!” The spear carrying soldiers encircled Bacchus to subdue Jam, who panted with exertion like the giant dog. The enchanted spears prevented him from activating his powers.

  “LEMME GO!” he thundered.

  Puffing heartily, red-faced and sweating, Bacchus disentangled himself with difficulty. “Throw the heathen in the brig for necessitating that appalling waste of splendid nosh!”

  “After I’m done with him!” Nimbus propelled himself into the circle and pounced on Jam, who was caught unawares. His fist connected wrenchingly with Jam’s chin, making an audible ‘crack’. He achieved another nose-blooding blow before Skylar’s disapproval could be heard above the commotion.

  “Enough! Brawling like some common street urchin in the gutters is not befitting one of your stature, Nimbus! Rise at once and collect your dignity. There is much to do! We must save Celestial.”

  The Queen flicked her head, instructing her company and they jumped, separating to carry out her bidding. Quivering with suppressed rage, Nimbus rose slowly, glaring mutinously down at Jam. Jam glowered contemptuously back, wiping his bleeding nose and adjusting his displaced jaw.

  “You will pay for that,” he whispered venomously.

  “Not as much as you, if anything happens to Celestial!” Nimbus warned darkly.

  Jam crumpled. “She is my beloved too,” he cried pathetically. “I am doomed in her absence and suffer torture worse than punishment for the Seven Dire Virtues!”

  Nimbus felt like booting him hard in exasperation while no one was watching, but pity won the day and he thrust out his hand to grudgingly pull his hopeless adversary to his feet. The satisfaction he
felt at generating his hornets had well and truly dissipated and he wondered when their infatuating effects would wear off. Not soon enough!

  “Well then, that makes you on our side. We shall need your help,” he said tersely through gritted teeth. He reached out to Jam’s smashed face. Jam recoiled and stepped backwards.

  “Hold still, idiot! My aim is not the best and I can’t be blamed if you move and I explode an eyeball!” Nimbus touched Jam’s broken, streaming nose, his fingertips alight, and fixed the damage he had inflicted to the underlying bones.

  Jam smiled placidly. “That is most soothing! I have not experienced such a pleasant sensation before.”

  “Yeah, well don’t get too used to it!” Nimbus muttered.

  Skylar and Bacchus (who’d managed to find replacements for the food he’d lost and was chomping on a banana sized prawn, dripped mayonnaise staining his robes), observed approvingly.

  Bacchus’s voice was muffled by a mouthful of seafood. “I think finesse is called for, my good son. There will be time for vengeance when the Most High return.”

  ***

  Chapter Seven

  The Plan