The driver’s door opened and Xanthic, as casually as a movie star at a movie premiere red carpet ceremony, swung his legs out of the car and rose to greet me. I didn't give him the chance and flung my arms around him hugging him tighter than ever; I did not care that he did not feel physically right, with bony bits and joints where humans should not have them - outside horror movie mad Doctor operations or serious accidents.
"I am so glad you are here." I cried over his shoulder. "How did you ever find me?"
"Don't be silly Valey." He said pushing me gently off him and holding me with his strong hands around my upper arms as he looked deeply into my eyes. "I always know where you are, you shine brighter than any star on the landscape with your rainbow." He ruffle my hair, "it comes straight out of there."
"And you fixed The Jag too." Tears of joy were rolling down my cheeks and falling to the ground in large splashes.
He looked questioningly at me as if I was mad - to him we probably all are, "Who's your friend?" He said.
I explained and he looked impressed. No, he actually looked extremely puzzled as I, in my haste, confused facts and omitted parts only to squeeze them in later.
"I need to get you to someone who needs to hear this." He said once I had finished "But you two I hope are good friends as this thing is only a two seater and I assume neither of you want to walk back to London."
So, with a lot of closeness, we got three people into a small Jag and as the car pulled away the snoring started within the car and my own grunt soon joined it.
23:20
I woke refreshed and overflowing with energy tingling with vitality and very perky and more turned on than I would care to admit, although in a somewhat crumpled and dishevelled in rumpled clothes and slightly damp as if an evening dew was settling but mostly from where Hasting's head had been resting on me and in his slumber he dribbled. Xanthic opened the passenger door of the beautiful Jaguar as neither I nor Hastings could reach and we fell onto each other on the floor when the pressure of the door keeping us in was released.
We were in a street somewhere in the older and more select areas of London, it had a look of history and a smell of money. White stone buildings full of columns, carvings and recessed windows lined a wide street with black ornate street lamps and perfectly maintained, if tiny, gardens and each with a flight of wide white stone steps leading up to glossy black front doors. It was also screaming out as cleanliness: That and behind each door, within each expansive house played an individual member of an amazing orchestra playing their melody just for me.
The Jag, abandoned - you couldn't call how Xanthic had left it as parking, looked out of place next to immaculately new sports cars and long wide classic Bentleys and Rolls Royce's. Xanthic led us a short way along the street and up a flight of steps.
"Here lies a foul and depraved soul." he said rapping the brass lion head knocker hard against its strike plate. "Oh and don't eat his cakes."
Both Hastings and I hesitated on the steps and looked at each other. "Are we in danger?" I asked hoping that I could for at least five minutes not have that feeling of needing to run away.
"No, he's an appalling coward, Angels are like that."
"And the cakes"
"He's also a terrible baker."
I breathed a sigh of relief and asked. "So an Angel, like Harahel?"
It was Xanthic's turn to hesitate and look at me. "You know Harahel?" He asked looking really hard at me.
"He was the one who sent me on the job, you were there on film telling me I had to go." I felt small, Xanthic looked as if his cool had slipped for the first time I knew of and it suddenly dawned on me that I had failed to retrieve the package I had been sent for, stranger still Xanthic hadn't asked me about it.
The door was opened by an elderly butler who was as rigid and straight as if he had an ironing board inserted straight up his rectum.
"I have a few questions for you later." said Xanthic before turning back to the doorway and, displaying a 36 carat smile at the 'help', walked straight in without waiting for an invitation or a question of to whom the gentleman is enquiring about - I've seen period dramas.
"I am afraid my Lady Valentine." said Hastings quietly in my ear and holding me back gently. "I have failed my King and God and stood by while others suffered; I do not wish to be in the presence of an Angel." He was clearly shaking.
"Listen, I'm sure he will be very pleased to see you and he can't know everything can he, we'll just stay quiet somewhere and keep our heads down while the big boys talk." I tried to reassure the big man without wishing to show my growing doubts of meeting an actual Angel myself.
"You do not know the name my Lady?" he said with dread in his eyes. "Do you not know of the tasks and duties of the Angels? Harahel is the collector of knowledge, his duty is to guard the library of all wisdom on Earth and above. He will know of our failures."
A clearing of the throat indicated the butler was about to close the door whether we were within or without, so with a hesitant confidence neither of us believed we scampered past the butler and into the abode of an Angel.
23:22
Xanthic was stood in the hallway looking at items displayed on ice white waist height pillars lining white walls on which bright splashes of colour adorned canvases. The butler fussed over my grubby appearance and issued warning over not transferring any of it onto the floor or furnishings; he was even more fussed over Hasting's almost non-existent attire and his increased levels of grubbiness. Xanthic paid a great deal of attention to some of the wild assortment of curios displayed and quickly moved past others as if they were not even worthy of the merest glance; during the distraction I was causing with the butler I saw him casually slip one of these not looked at items off its pedestal and into a deep pocket on his coat before stepping artfully onto look deeply at a carved wooden mask opposite.
I must have had a certain expression on my face as the butler stopped lecturing us on the necessity towards cleanliness when visiting respectful members of the community - apparently it is next to godliness, and look across at Xanthic who was studying the mask with a slight bend towards it with his hands behind his back.
"Oh, yes." he said noticing the attention lavished upon him by the butler. "We've come to see the master of the house. I won't apologise about the lateness of the hour or disturbing his rest as we both know he doesn't sleep in that way, so hurry along and inform him of our arrival as if he isn't well aware of that fact already."
He gave a little sweeping motion with his downward facing fingers to hurry the man on.
"If Sirs and Madam would kindly wait in the Drawing room I will inform his Lordship of your presence." he carefully manoeuvred around us in a way that suggested he respected us enough not to push past or he was terrified we carried an infectious disease causing nasty and embarrassing symptoms passed through the briefest of body contact. He opened a door on the side of the room and we all marched in.
When we were alone Xanthic asked me to quickly explain how I knew of Harahel whilst Hastings was stood terrified in the corner. I started to explain the undignified exit from The Jolly Reaper and the collection in the van and being abandoned in the middle of I still don't know where and as much of the confused memories I have of the mound. I didn't get very far into my failure as we were interrupted by an Angel.
*
Harahel swept into the room in a grey trousers a white shirt with open collar and a tight grey waistcoat; his long blonde hair rounded off a perfect appearance I would struggle to attain with many dedicated hours before going out let alone this late in the day. He strode up to Xanthic and stood in front of him with a hand out, into which Xanthic placed the small curio from his pocket and shrugged.
"It’s late, the journey must have been of importance, so I will drop the niceties and go straight to business. Who are your companions?" said the Angel, in a honeyed tone and I almost missed the sarcasm in the words as I felt at ease around the man.
"I will be q
uick be assured, I do not wish to be here any longer than I need to be." replied Xanthic relaxed and thick with inferred meanings; I got no friendliness between the two only, at best, a very carefully managed business arrangement almost like young brothers used to fighting with every iota of energy in their muscles to be placed in a position where they were chaperoned by an elderly aunt who greatly rewards good behaviour.
"This is Hastings, a very recent addition to my staff and I believe you know Valentine my assistant." Harahel showed no sign of recognition, but looked at me long and hard. It was very off putting.
"No, I do not believe I have had that pleasure as yet. But I get this all the time, probably something to do with being named personally in the scriptures."
"I don't want to impose on your time but we have something to discuss. And something else I have discovered only more recently which has a pressing nature." Xanthic responded pushing forward with urgency in his voice.
Harahel invited us to accompany him into his library where he could more readily access information if it hastened the resolution of our purpose - I read this as I’ll allow you this one concession if it gets you out of my house quicker, and we followed him though exceptionally furnished rooms and into the library. I have not had much time to build expectations on what the library of an Angel tasked to hold all the knowledge on Earth would look like but images of huge cases filled with finest leather bound editions of every book ever printed with glass fronted cases displaying handwritten aged scrolls from cultures long disappeared from the world; acres of corridors where unwary seekers of truths could lose themselves for days and a team of elves working hard to place additions in their places or edit texts as new information spirals through the either into existence. I was hugely disappointed.
The room we were led to was a white box, O.K a large immaculately decorated white box with a couple of chairs and a table - also white, and on the table sat a very large widescreen laptop, this was glossy red and stood out like a juicy ripe apple on a glacial snow peaked tree. There was absolutely nothing else, not even a window with which to add variety of view. Xanthic, without being invited to sit, took the closest chair and swung his feet up to rest on the table. Harahel brushed them off with a wave of his hand and sat turning the opened laptop away from where Xanthic was reading as much as he could so it faced his Angelic features alone.
The Angel could see disappointment in my features. "What did you expect of a modern collective of all information from everywhere of everything? From here I can interface with every fact, every word written or thought from any living creature that walks the Earth, all on a handy high definition screen. Who needs large outdated and slowly decomposing things such as books laying around collecting dust and filling up space. It used to take days to compile reports drawn from information contained within only to find that much of what people considered to be the last line in truth had been rendered useless by progress. No, I prefer this, it really is a gift from God."
"Right, enough of this." said Xanthic loudly drawing all our attention onto him. "I'll moderate my language but let's get on shall we before the Rapture arrives. I want information and as already stated, we are all busy."
"There is a cost." came the Angel dispelling within me my idea he would assist us out of compassion and love.
"I know and I already have it in full. I'll tell you things you don't know if you tell me something you know so well."
Xanthic looked smug, a look he could pull off extremely well.
"I think you'll find there is nothing of consequence on God's green Earth that isn't recognised or archived within His great plan. No leaf can fall without His knowledge and approval; So I have my doubts there can be anything other than gossip or guess work within that head of yours with which to connive and misdirect information out of me. I remember the Renaissance, you won't get me that way again." The Angel sounded like an old history teacher mildly delivering his sage wisdom to a class who although knew of things happening in the world years ago but couldn't really believe anything interesting happened before they were born.
"O.K I'll give you that, the Renaissance wasn't my finest hour, but we both had a lot of fun and you did alright out of it, a few souls saved marked against your tally so your halo shone a little brighter. This is different. This is important, and if you just want to type in two little words into that magic box of yours you'll see for yourself."
"Two words, nothing blasphemous I hope."
"Two normal and almost Saintly words, Valentine Orphanet" Xanthic confidently sat back and in the same motion raised his feet high with straight legs and carefully deposited them back on the table.
I was watching the scene like a child watching theatre only half understanding what was playing out before me; the mention of my name generated a greater interest but I was not sure exactly how I played into this dynamic posturing for dominance. I tried to sidle around behind Harahel slightly and craned my neck to see what was appearing on the screen.
The Angle typed quickly, fingers flowing across the raised keys on the ultra slim bottom half of the portable computer; light shone onto his face illuminating his pale features to that of perfection as seen in religious artwork of his kind across the centuries. In an instant, when the desired information was retrieved, his mouth fell and in that moment Xanthic grinned like the Devil.
Harahel retyped the words, my name, into the laptop and from his reaction I could assume the same information was displayed, he looked at me as if I were an impossibility and then back down to the screen in front of him.
"How?" he asked looking straight at me. "And I have the wrath of God on my side...." he started this and I was instantly afraid of what he would say next, but I relaxed as the sentence finalised. "....If you don't get your damned feet off my table." Harahel refocused on my boss and the cocky laugh he received as Xanthic sat up placing his feet back on the floor showed he had learnt something he didn't know before and Xanthic's gamble had paid off.
"How?" he said again momentarily lost for words.
"What happened my Lady?" asked Hastings, sensible enough like me to stand well back and try as hard as you can to not be there, unfortunately he was even more lost by the proceeding than I, and I didn't know where to start to explain. How do you go about trying to educate someone born in a time when communication of information took weeks or months to pass and even longer to imbue the world with great discoveries. That and how a plastic electrical device could conjure and deliver world shaping data in seconds by connecting wirelessly to the web; come to that how do you explain plastic, electronics, Wi-Fi and the world wide web? I don't even understand that stuff myself. Luckily I didn't have to as Xanthic had already begun.
"This young lady is currently sat in a hospital bed following a bit of an accident involving with reacquainting a wizards staff to his family line and an accidental discharge of force when it rejected the descendant in a rather unusual manner. But as you can see, she is very much in this room right here and right now breathing the same air as both of us. Now, how do you suppose this can be? You know they aren't twins, doppelgängers or fairy magics."
Harahel struggled for an answer and his mouth bounced with unspoken words and looking like a Heavenly goldfish. Within a heartbeat he regained his celestial composure and his whole stance turned back to that of confidence. He was close to Xanthic and the contrast between the light and dark reminded me of yin and yang and a hundred other stylised symbols, but most prominently the sign of the dove and raven fighting in an eternal circle.
The mood changed in the room and something unspoken passed between the two Other-worldly beings, I guessed they wanted a little privacy. They both turned to look at Hastings and I.
"I am parched Valey, can you go and brew a cup of tea. One of the really strong stewed pots you do so well." said my Boss in as pleasant a voice as possible.
"The kitchen is out the door and third left down the corridor, no milk though but there is a 24 hour shop down the road, shou
ldn't take you more than ten minutes to walk there." Followed the Angel.
"It’s no use protesting, the grown ups want to talk big boy things over the head of us kids." I said to Hastings as he was about to protest. "Trust me it’s a whole lot easier this way." We walked out of the room on each other for support because Xanthic had taken Hasting's crutch away from him as we passed and snapped off the thinner branch that diverted where his shoulder rested and gave him back what was in effect a straight-ish pole too long, broad and impractical to be used as a walking stick. We walked out into the corridor and I suggested we get the milk first because boiling a kettle and then going would be pointless. We walked back to where we entered and the Hall had behind the door and cleverly hidden was a row of long well made coats, hats and umbrellas. I temporarily stole a long over coat to protect Hasting's modesty on our trip to the shop at this late hour.
As we left I strained my hearing to breaking point to try and gain any useful information being exchanged between the two 'gentlemen' but only I didn't need to try so hard as I heard Harahel's voice booming through the house.
"What the bloody heaven and hell is going on this time?"
And then I slipped out of the front door pulling it closed behind me.
23:40
The shop seemed to be a lot further away than I was led to believe, but it gave us a chance to be out in the fresh air and away from personal politics that undoubtedly had been created, bent, twisted, broken and fixed again between the two of them over centuries. There was something going on and it was really nagging at me why my name generated so much interest and why this man, sorry Angel, who deposited me and abandoned me in the wilderness after sitting with me in the back of a van for hours then said he had no idea who I was. I'm sure Xanthic will sooner or later get around to filling me in with these details; I used to ask him outright and he would purposefully hold things back but in the end he always spills the beans like an old gossip eager to pass on what he knows over others ignorance.
Diary Of An Occult Resolution Assistant Page 21