Copyright © A. M. Blaushild, 2017
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To Clementine, again and of course.
GOOD ANGEL
A. M. Blaushild
“I’m afraid that the ones I love won’t have enough
I’m afraid that the ones I love won’t have enough”
—AJJ, “Big Bird”
PART I
HEAVENSENT
1: Something Like A Prayer
THE FIRST NIGHT was always going to be the hardest. Iofiel had been telling herself that since the day she was born: That first night on Earth, under the alien moon and stars, away from Heaven’s light, was always going to be the hardest.
Reminding herself of this, whispering it under her breath, did not do anything to help, but she found great joy in pretending. Her room was small and dark, the stone wall cool on her left arm as she half leaned against the wall.
“Please,” her roommate reminded, opening one eye. He’d already asked her to be quiet a few times this night.
Iofiel had been sitting upright, wringing her rough blanket in her hands while repeating her mantra, but at Maalik’s word she lay back down. She’d barely seen him, and knew nothing about him besides that he was older, too old to be afraid of the dark, and an Archangel— so it was probably good she practice obeying his orders.
Even if she didn’t agree. He needed his sleep, and so did she, but she had never felt quite this alone in her entire life, and alone was not a very good thing for an angel to be.
She flopped onto her stomach, her dark blue hair covering her eyes and her violet wings stretched out. One pressed against the wall; the other hung sloppily over the end of her bed. She felt like a mess. If she could cry— and could she? She never had— she would’ve been sobbing. It was the existence of night, of darkness, that was getting to her. There was a wide window in her dorm room that she had quite loved at first, as it overlooked the steep rock cliffs that surrounded the University, but now it brought in pale moonlight. Barely a shine, weaker than even the light her halo emitted.
She did manage a soft little sob.
“What are you here to study?” Maalik shifted in his bed, barely illuminated. He sat up, his pale green wings stretching.
“Guardianship,” Iofiel said.
It’d been Ambriel’s idea. ‘You’re so helpful,’ they had purred. Well, not really purred; Ambriel was an Ophan, and they spent all hours of the day sitting in Eden’s trees and screeching their thoughts. Still, when Iofiel was around, they tended to scream their words a little more privately.
Iofiel had slept under their wings every night of her life, which was roughly seven days. There were nights in Heaven in that they knew of nights, and measured themselves by the spinning of the Earth. But nights in Heaven were sunlit, and smelt of spring.
This dorm room smelt like burnt food, sweat, and woodrot.
“Some Guardian you’ll be if all you do is snivel,” Maalik said. His voice was brittle and sharp.
“Sorry!”
“I know.” Context suggested he was trying to sound apologetic, but perhaps his rough voice simply didn’t allow this. Iofiel looked across the room to his bed: he was laying on his back, his wings half folded beside him, staring at the ceiling. “But I made it through. Everyone else has too. You think demons don’t get scared too, by the wind and the hours? But you never hear them crying. So don’t.”
“That doesn’t really help. You’re an Archangel, for one—”
“I’m still just an angel, end of the day, to anyone who cares about that sort of thing. And I was like you, first night. Probably everyone was. So remember: I’m not dead.” With this, Maalik flopped back down, his wings folded neatly, his head turned towards the wall.
Iofiel watched him for a while. It felt like seconds, but soon the light that emitted from him dimmed closer to darkness, and the moonlight was the most powerful entity in the room.
For angels, the Sun was sacred. Not the sun itself, of course, but the concept of an eternal light. It was a common nickname for their Creator, a more casual one than Their sacred name— The Vast Light, The Great Brightness, That Eternal Luminosity... there was no night in Heaven, no moon, just the knowledge that those things tormented humanity below.
But that was part of being human, part of now living on Earth, bound by this unfamiliar flesh. She tucked her wings in and pulled her three heavy blankets over her, shivering in the September air, and reminded herself:
Many good angels had been through all of this before. And now, so would she.
The next morning Iofiel had never been more grateful to see the sun. She was eight days old today, more than a week, and this was the second Monday of her existence. She hadn’t been able to sleep at first, staring at the still light of the moon against the stone walls, hearing herself breath— then there had been a moment where she had blinked too long. She had slept in Heaven, but there was still something odder about doing it here.
She slept in nightclothes, as did Maalik, a tighter black tank top and shorts with a loose tunic and pants over it. While there had been some shift in social norms, a commitment to decency was still ingrained into Iofiel. When she sat up in bed and caught sight of Maalik getting dressed, she immediately looked away— even if he was still wearing an outfit a human would be hardpressed to label as exposing.
“Good morning,” he said, pulling on a pair of red pants. “I’d be surprised if you got a good night’s sleep.”
“I’m… not really sure,” she said with a yawn. Iofiel was a little embarrassed to have let the night get to her like that, and decided to show her maturity by trying to keep a straight face as he continued to nonchalantly dress. “I got to sleep somehow.”
“Yeah, well, it’s always tough the first few nights. We’re different things down here.” Maalik turned to the wall, and to Iofiel’s shock, took off his nightshirt, briefly exposing his bare back. Then he pulled a green half shirt over his neck and reached behind to button it under his wings. Fashion had become more progressive lately among angels, even in Heaven, but this outfit left a sliver of his smooth stomach exposed. Iofiel had to think, she didn’t approve.
Iofiel slid off her bed. Even though Maalik was dressed, he had sat back down and was waiting, his large bookbag on his lap. Iofiel didn’t realize why until she unbundled her University-given clothes and realized she wasn’t sure how to put them on. Yes, head through hole, arms go here… still, actually holding a shirt made the whole process far more intimidating. It was mostly her wings she wasn’t sure how to handle. This sweater was obviously some modified human one, nothing like the loose, tied robes she’d worn in Heaven.
“Can you—?” When she looked over to ask, Maalik seemed to smirk.
“It’s why I’m here. Now, this is going to be a bit weird. It’s a tight fit, so I’m going to hold your wings, okay?”
“Right,” Iofiel said, like this didn’t mildly scare her. Oh well. She pulled the shirt over her head (that part was at least easy), and waited nervously as Maalik helped guide her large wings into the right spots, and then buttoned them up.
“You’ll learn to do it on your own in a few days, no problem.”
“How long have you been here?” She asked Maalik, as she pulled on a long skirt. His work done, he’d sat back down on his bed.
“This is my third year,” he said, “Healing.”
“Oh, so we won’t get to see each other after all this is through...” Archangels were designated leaders of lower
angels like Iofiel, and most didn’t bother with the additional training the University could supply, seeing it as their duty to be immediately useful to Heaven. It was one of those small semantics among angels, and Iofiel didn’t have much of an opinion.
“Sure, but I think we’ll be seeing plenty of each other this year. Especially since I have a feeling I’ll be guiding you to your classes for the first couple of days.”
“Yep!” She yawned again, but found herself with new energy at the thought of the day ahead. Learning things! Meeting other angels! She was nervous, and perhaps not as well rested as she was used to being, but there was much to look forward to.
“But first, eating.” She could not hide her joy at the thought. Angels didn’t need to eat, or sleep, or do anything— they were more constructs than people, another mantra Iofiel felt she had been born with the knowledge of. But on Earth, their bodies and grace a little more contained, they actually had to.
They left their dorm. The University was a big building, akin to a castle built well after the time of castles, and the dormitories were all part of the main building. The angels were all grouped in a blocky tower on the east end. At this time, everyone was getting up, and the halls were full of the lazy light of halos. One angel brushed her hair as she walked, and Maalik cut her off, pulling Iofiel along by the hand.
“Vanity,” he grumbled, “Don’t let anything unholy get to you.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Iofiel said, wide-eyed. It would be hard to be Maalik’s roommate for the year if he hated her, so she tried to feel some of the contempt he clearly did as they wove through the crowd. There was a faint murmur all around, whispered greetings from older angels who already knew each other, but overall only the sound of footsteps prevailed.
At the bottom of the tower was a single narrow hall to the main complex, lined with large windows. Maalik was a fast walker, and the two of them were now nearly ahead of the others. By the end of the tunnel, they were definitely in front of the breakfast rush.
He stopped suddenly when they were a few halls in. Iofiel hoped it was so that he could explain the route he’d just took— once they’d arrived in the main building, he’d taken so many turns she’d lost track of where she was. When she’d arrived yesterday, it’d been the same, an angel who worked there nearly carrying her straight to her room. The scenery had been a blur.
It still was now, not helped by its mostly bland appearance— the halls tended to be grey, with smatterings of yellow and darker grey in the stonework. There were no signs, just the occasional, somehow miserable looking chair.
They must have been near the center of the University by now, and Iofiel could hear a faint sound of voices from not far away. Maalik gently tapped her shoulder, “It’s best to prepare yourself.”
“Demons?” she asked. That was part of this too, the inexplicable part, the odd truth that was the angels cohabitation with their eternal foes. She knew it was coming, but still held her breath.
“Demons.”
They turned into the eating hall, and there were definitely demons. They were every color and shade, some of them very human, some of them absolutely not. They were loud and boisterous, laughing in groups, leaning back in their chairs, their fangs glimmering in the light. One or two looked up at Maalik and Iofiel as they walked across the hall towards where the food was.
It smelled like a lot of things, and for a few seconds Iofiel’s body wasn’t sure how to react. There was a moment of repulsion, and then, blissful desire. Probably a sin, but wow, she really was hungry.
“What do you want to eat?” Maalik said, as he helped himself to a plate of some sort of thick, glistening bread. A placard helpfully let Iofiel know he was getting pancakes.
Angels were created fully grown, and entirely independent. So even though Iofiel was only eight days old, she knew a great deal about the world, a gift bestowed by That Dear Light Above. Some foods were covered by this, but humans had gotten rather advanced very quickly, and she had to rely on signs to know what almost everything but an apple was.
“Humans are so creative,” she said, working her way around the food room— what was this place supposed to be called, again?— and smelling everything on display. “I want to eat everything.”
She stopped for a while at the meat displays. Angels didn’t need to eat in Heaven, and they absolutely never ate animals. But that was okay here, right? She sniffed hard, focused on the scent.
“Outta the way, blue,” a demon pushed her aside, admittedly without much force, and she stumbled back, ending up on the floor. The demon grabbed a few pieces of bacon and walked around where Iofiel had fallen.
Before the demon could exit, Maalik blocked her off, speaking fast and quiet while pointing a long finger at her face. She looked terrified, rightfully, by the Archangel’s actions, muttering an ‘alright alright alright’ a few times and stopping to glare at Iofiel before Maalik let her leave.
“They don’t know their place,” Maalik reached out and helped Iofiel to her feet, his pink eyes still narrowed from the encounter.
“I was acting kind of weird. And I was in her way...”
“It’s the beginning of the year. You were fine,” Maalik said quickly, still obviously peeved. Iofiel quickly scooped up two pancakes for herself, and tightly gripped Maalik’s wrist as they reentered the cafeteria. His pointed nails dug slightly into her hand. More angels had arrived by now, taking up the left side of the hall, and Maalik immediately made his way to one table near the back. Presumably he always sat here.
“Was blue hair not a good choice?” Iofiel said. She didn’t like the anger on Maalik’s face over what she was quickly assuring herself was an error on her part. Demons were bad, of course, but she had been acting a bit daft.
“It’s fine.” Maalik was digging through his breakfast with record speed, still distracted, occasionally looking out across the plain grey food room for some sign of the demon. Iofiel had already forgotten what she’d looked like.
“She could have pushed me a lot harder. Honestly. More of a bump.” Iofiel pointed with her fork, and then slowly began to copy what Maalik was doing, cutting his pancakes to bits and then soaking them with some sort of golden sauce.
“She’s a demon,” Maalik said between bites, like that explained everything. It kind of did: Demons were bad, the spawn of Morningstar and the fated foe of all angels. Getting caught up on the nuances of interpersonal relations involving them was ill advised. “Don’t let yourself get pushed around by forgetting that. They’re all demons. This University is both bad and good in that we’re forced to share space with Hellspawn— it’s good practice in being tested. I just don’t want you to fail that test this early.”
“Wait, what test?”
“A test. The world’s full of them for beings like us, and one of them is to always remember they—” He spat the word “—are less than us. They’re piles of dirt and blood given life by our traitors. They are entitled to less than nothing. And one day, they will all be dead. We might be too, you know, and if so it’ll always be by their hands. It’s called having enemies, Iofiel.”
“Okay.” Iofiel waited a few more seconds to see if Maalik was going to continue, and then slowly began to eat her food. The first bite was overwhelming, just the texture alone was enough to send her head spinning. It was sweet and warm and tasty? And good and—
“You’re a really slow eater,” Maalik remarked. He’d just finished his plate, and was now watching her eat with the faintest glimmer of delight in his eyes. It was nice to know he was capable of such emotions. “You’re shining a little bright.”
Iofiel couldn’t actually see her halo — that was the thing about ethereal light stuck to the top of your head — so she reached up and held it in her hands. A young, lower angel like herself did have a tendency of letting her halo rest as a simple golden disk above her head, and yeah, it was glowing pretty bright. Angels generally didn’t have shame — that was a very human trait, after all —
but she was a little embarrassed to stand out.
Maalik, and many of the other older angels sitting at the table with them, had their halos mostly hidden, often as simple rings around their heads or even contained as a glowing essence about their skin. Iofiel, as she looked around, was one of maybe four others who had a classic disk-like halo.
Her face was probably red. At the very least, that would complement her blue hair.
“It’s cute,” Maalik said, rolling his eyes slightly, his voice a whisper. Calling another angel ‘cute’ surely wasn’t the sort of thing you wanted others to hear. “We were all young once.”
“But I’m really young.”
“Yeah. I know. That’s why I’m looking out for you. When were you created?”
“Eight days ago.” Iofiel dabbed her mouth with a napkin. Many things were ingrained in her from birth, and table manners seemed to be one of them.
“Lucky you lined up like that for University admissions then, right? Hey, maybe you were fated to go here.”
Just then there was a loud whistle from across the food room, from the side where the demons congregated. Iofiel stopped chewing and looked over, but saw nothing peculiar in the rainbow sea of demons. A burst of loud laughter echoed across the red stone room, and then the lull of quiet conversation returned.
“Can you teach me how to hide my halo?” Iofiel asked.
“Just eat your food and relax. You’ll learn how to eventually.” Maalik paused. “Would it be wrong if I called you ‘Blue’?”
“Wow. Stealing from a demon? The Maalik I met several hours ago would never.” Iofiel pointed playfully with her fork. However, there was still a small piece of pancake attached to one of the prongs that promptly fell onto the table as she did so. She stared at it.
“Don’t eat it,” one of the angels next to Maalik said with a disapproving look.
Good Angel Page 1