Where were the offices? Adramelek and Amariah must have had a place somewhere in the building, and besides them the professors had to sleep sometime too. Did they all return to Heaven and Hell when the day was done?
Back to the first floor. On the west end, this was where most of the demon courses were. No offices yet. She was almost out of time, probably. There were no clocks in the halls.
Around the place where she’d begun, Iofiel finally found what she’d been looking for: nestled down the hall from the cafeteria, half hidden behind a pillar, was a small grey door. It blended right into the shadows, and below a small window was a worn gold placard saying ‘Headmasters’.
Iofiel knocked on the door, and then peeked through the window. There was no glass, so if anything, it was more a hole. She suspected it was for the sake of a certain Seraph who lacked visible hands, or in general any body part that wasn’t wings.
“Come in,” Adramelek said.
She opened the door. He was squished behind a comically small desk, one perhaps meant for a human child. Amariah was perched on his shoulder, partially collapsed so that she more resembled a mop than anything alive. Her body pulsed slightly with light and soft, shrill snores.
“Should I...?” Iofiel stood in the doorway, and gestured towards Amariah.
“If she wanted to wake, she’d wake. Come in.” Adramelek sounded quite bothered by something, and any semblance of this going smoothly died. Iofiel did not feel particularly welcome, but she sat in the chair across from his desk, something which actually put her farther above the ground then he currently was. Was he even in a chair?
The office space was a closet, narrow and slightly slanted at the top. Small niches had been cut in the walls without thought, and they held candles, small collections of books, and various knickknacks. Two directly behind Adramelek’s elbow were for storing paperwork. Besides his desk, and a small hanging platform for Amariah, there was only enough space for a single chair, pulled in a little too close.
“I’m here to change my major,” Iofiel announced, trying to ignore an odd feeling in her stomach. Like it was dropping out of existence.
“What to?” Adramelek asked, leaning over the desk. His grey-black wings were smooshed against the back wall, messy and in need of preening. Even though he was obviously corrupted, the presence of his wings comforted Iofiel. In some ways, because Amariah was so small, Adramelek felt like the more angelic of the two.
“It’s a long story.”
“That’s not a major.” Was he angry? He didn’t sound pleased, but Iofiel was usually better than this at sensing emotions.
“Soul trading?” Iofiel squeaked out, opting to end with the faintest of sighs just to really drive home the point in that she very well knew this was kinda an awful concept, sorry.
Adramelek didn’t seem outright anything. He kept sitting there, one leg resting atop his desk. Amariah shifted slightly, blinking some of her eyes open but remaining on his shoulder.
“I’d like to hear the story.” He stated it, plainly.
“I lied, there really isn’t one?” Best not to drag Archie into this, she decided. “Just. I have an interest, and are there really any rules here against this sort of thing, and...?”
“Here.” Adramelek leaned back and fished a stapled stack of papers out of a cubby hole behind him without looking. He handed them to her. They were, of course, request forms to switch majors. There was no trepidation to his hands, no tell on his face that this was an event of interest. “Just to be official.”
“So, this won’t be a problem?”
“Not for me. Most likely, yes, you’ll have numerous problems.”
“But is it like... illegal? Will I get in trouble?”
Amariah shook herself awake, and fluttered up to her perch, chattering in some high and holier language than Iofiel understood. Adramelek nodded intensely at every break, adding only brief responses.
“They’ll mind,” she said. “They’ll mind a lot. But will they ever find out?”
“Ama believes you may incur some mild heavenly wrath in this act. It’s akin to a rebellion in some ways, and while the powers above tolerate some teenage murk, They have never been too fond of oddities.”
“It’s for a good reason, I promise,” Iofiel said. Then, to really show her enthusiasm, she crossed her heart in an angelic salute, and spoke in her native tongue the same words again, facing the sky, the sun, and The Sun.
The world didn’t blink, but it made Iofiel feel a lot better. She moved to sit up, but Adramelek tapped at his desk. “I only need you to sign,” he said, and suddenly Iofiel remembered he was a Fallen, one of the originals, and maybe she ought to sit down and read the fine print before she signed anything.
She didn’t. He was the principal, after all, and there was no way he was going to try anything devious under the many gazes of Amariah. Plus, hey, she didn’t have a soul to be signing away in the first place. Could demons have creatures sign away other things besides souls?
Well, she’d find out in class soon, wouldn’t she?
She hadn’t planned for any of this, let alone what to do next. Should she look for Archie? She was already late for Human History. Actually, that was one of the classes her new schedule wouldn’t be dropping, so she really ought to hurry up.
There was just one problem preventing her mad dash to the fourth floor: On her first day of school, her schedule had been waiting for her on the bed. What if that happened again? Maalik would know —
Oh. Oh!
Maalik needed to never find out about any of this. The fact she’d been talking to and befriending a demon was bad enough, but studying one of their subjects? It was probably going to be impossible to keep secret forever, surely there’d be gossip, but...
Maalik was not going to take well to it. The longer she could delay him finding out, the more time she had to think of a better plan. At least Adramelek had seemed fine with it... Though perhaps she ought to keep in mind he wasn’t the type of person she wanted being happy with her. Amariah had seemed fine with it. Presumably.
Yeah, maybe this had been a bad, bad idea from the start.
She returned to her dorm and sat on her bed until Maalik came back, halfway through her History class. He didn’t seem aware she wasn’t supposed to be here, and merely chatted for a minute before ducking out to get food. Then he was back an hour later, and she was still there, lying back on her bed, her wings spread wide so that her back was flat against the mattress.
“Shouldn’t you be studying?” Maalik was on the floor, arranging lines of salt onto a sheet of tarp. In the center was a nearly dead bird. It let out a pitiful peep from time to time while he compared his work to the illustrations in his textbook.
Iofiel sighed.
“Having trouble? You know, I did have to go through all the classes you’re currently in. I can help you out.”
“It’s not school.”
“Then...?”
“Something I can’t talk to you about.” He looked up from his work, and reluctantly she caught his eye. “I really can’t!”
“There shouldn’t be anything like that.” He sounded very concerned, which Iofiel appreciated. But, of course, it also made her feel guiltier. “You can tell me anything. You already know more about me than I thought I’d be comfortable with, but it turns out it doesn’t matter. Iofiel, whatever is happening, not telling me about it doesn’t lead to anything positive.”
She sighed. “I know you’re my roommate, and you’re supposed to be helping me adjust to all this, but I’m still an independent... I don’t know, fledgling? Let me make a few mistakes on my own.”
“A mistake is different from... Iofi. Please. I’m going to be stressed about this all week if you don’t give me at least a vague hint.”
“It’d only make you more stressed.”
“You are underestimating the sheer power of my anxiety.”
“I don’t know you that well.” Iofiel sat up, and folded her wings ba
ck messily. “You know? We’re not really... friends. So, this is kinda something I don’t feel comfortable talking to you about.”
“It’s okay that we’re not friends, but I think we’re going to be. Here.” Maalik got up, his boxed bird still making the occasional sad squeak. He sat on the bed next to her, and without a word spread her right wing slightly, combing through the feathers with his fingers. “You don’t have to tell me exactly what it is, but I’d like something, okay?”
“It’s a problem I created myself. I guess I wanted it, and I guess I still do? It’s exciting, but horrifying at the same time. I think it’s going to get me killed or something. Okay, unlikely, but...” She was leaning back onto Maalik’s shoulder at this point. Having her wings preened by him was turning out to be incredibly relaxing, his long fingers gently stroking through her smaller covert feathers down to her secondaries. “Sometimes it’s like I want to think, but I can’t, because everything is always so new and demanding of my attention. Like I can’t blink for a second, and overthinking is a waste of time. But I should have overthought this!”
“Is it too late?”
“It’s too late. I think I just need to relax. Maybe go for a walk in the woods, if that’s allowed. It might remind me of Eden...”
Maalik regarded this thought sadly. “Not around here. Blue, has anyone shown you the showers yet? I find myself spending a lot of time there when I’m stressed. And. Well. It’s part of being confined to an Earthly form, I’m afraid.”
“Are you trying to say I smell?”
“You smell like you, which is to say, sweat. And maybe a bit of dirt.” Iofiel leaned her head back to catch Maalik’s face, and for the first time there seemed to be the faintest hint of laughter. At least, a smile. His fingers had fixed most of her feathers now, but he still was combing through her primaries.
“You just spent all this time fixing my wings, only for them to be ruined in the wash,” Iofiel protested, drawing her right wing back towards her and getting up. In truth, she did not quite know what to expect from a shower, only that it must be related to a rain shower in some form, and everyone was expected to give it a go once in a while.
It turned out she wasn’t far off, though quite alarmed to learn most everyone showered a minimum of once every three days, and some showered daily.
“That’s a lot of showering,” she muttered darkly, as Maalik showed her how the machine worked. Angels were quite sensitive about their bodies. Friendly touching was a bit odd, in truth, beyond a helpful preen between friends. And of course, while Heaven’s weather wasn’t ideal for it, the more clothes the better. Here at the University, plenty of angels went with slightly more exposed looks — even Maalik had the habit of wearing a crop top under his favorite silver jacket.
The need for private showers and bathrooms was perhaps not due for angels, at least since in theory they were all entirely asexual. Still, there was stigma around the naked form, as creatures who’d never seen another of their kind naked before in any good context, especially since they were still getting used to their new, slightly fleshier bodies. There was a hall for it, it turned out, on the eastern side of the second floor. Each stall had a sturdy door protecting it, with a lock, and inside this was a shower, toilet, sink, and table. To prove nothing improper was occurring, Maalik had left the door open, and before he left, had leaned half outside while she checked she had everything she needed.
It turned out Iofiel quite liked showering. Loved it, rather. Which was good, angels were meant to love all things that existed without sin, and considering she was set to spent the next year studying the realms of such unholy things, it was pleasant she’d always have the shower as a beacon of light to hold on to. The water was hot, and peeled her still soft skin. She was so pink and fleshy, and her hair was so blue. She had gone in hoping to reflect on her situation, to consider what might happen tomorrow at class, and what the consequence may be for skipping two classes today, but instead she simply didn’t think. She showered.
It was nice to shut off for a while. Her skin was still hot while she examined herself in the mirror, all her very human bits contrasted by her wings, eyes, hair, and of course, solid ring of a halo. She wondered if demons had ever felt this way too, or if after all these years they’d gotten used to it, that feeling of self. Her body belonged to her, and she controlled it, and every bit in her — magic and flesh — pulsated with life.
In her little locked bathroom, she also had the chance to be alone for a significant length of time, and it wasn’t as lonely as she had been expecting. It was a bit liberating. Some higher angels might’ve been watching, perhaps Amariah was monitoring dutifully or something, but Iofiel did not feel it.
She felt a little unhinged, in a very good way. The greatness of things did not seem to matter very much compared to the fact she might have made a friend today. A demon friend, but he was alive too, right? Every few days, he probably went through this same ritual, of watching himself in the mirror, and that odd fascination.
There was still a freeness to everything, for a while. She could wonder about a lot of bad things. Even when she’d been alone before, flying in the sky or working in her room, she’d never felt completely isolated. Here, in the steam fog of the shower, she could think about how Nuriel had questioned the Light. She could consider all the little flaws in the angels she’d met, and wonder again what about Archie had made her drop everything to try and help him.
She also, staring at her weird, contained self, had to think about sex. She felt a due lack of interest in such matters, but she wondered what sex was like. She wondered if some demons saw her, shaped like them, as a sexual object like they saw each other. When she considered poor Maalik was plagued with such thoughts, she suddenly felt a little strange about the night, and having sat so close to him. Not fully repulsed, as her curiosity towards the unknown was starting to become a well-documented trait in her mind, but...
Sex wasn’t a bad thing. It wasn’t what made demons bad or angels good. It was a thing thing. There were humans who were asexual too, and those who weren’t, and neither were better or more angel-like than the other. They were human, as demons were demons. But angels like Iofiel and Maalik weren’t supposed to be anything other than angels, either, and good angels loved nothing more than the Sun, and thought about nothing else. There were a brave few who would admit their sexuality fell somewhere else along the spectrum, but because angels were beings, not people, these sorts of feelings were viewed as matters to overcome, not accept.
She toweled herself dry and got dressed in her night clothes. Upon returning to her room, she was glad to see she did feel better about the whole thing. Like her worries had been seared from her flesh. Maalik had completed his healing spell, and a cheerful golden bird hopped about his desk while he took notes from a book.
“So...?” he asked, not looking up.
“I’m ready for the future!” Iofiel declared. “After all, I don’t have much of a past to dwell on in the first place.”
The small bird fluttered with distain and perched on Maalik’s bedpost.
“What about the present?”
“That’s always just the future, coming right at you. Right?”
“Sounds close enough.”
Iofiel probably needed to do something else with her night. She really, really felt that actually. But she collapsed onto her bed, her still damp wings hanging on either side of her mattress like laundry out to dry. “Yo. Maalik.”
“Who taught you that word?”
“What’s it like to have sexual thoughts?”
“What? Why...?”Maalik sounded very alarmed, but her head was buried in her pillow, so she couldn’t see his face.
“I’ve been thinking since the night of the party. You don’t act much different from the other angels. It’s not like you’re some darkworld fiend of devious sexuality. You’re just you. You’re just an Archangel, and you also have some interest in sexual matters. What is that like though?”
“Don’t be overdramatic. I think it’s just a thing.” Iofiel rolled over, looking at Maalik. He was squeezing his knuckles, one after the other, and not meeting her gaze.
“Yeah...?”
“I was thinking about it. It’s so weird we’re given free will, unique personalities, features, everything, but we’re still not human. Still rule-bound.”
“We’re only semi-free. Everything is decided by... Our Creator, and we serve Him only.”
Iofiel sighed. “I know. But don’t you think the fact you are this bad way is kinda... pointless? It’s not really a challenge for you.”
“You trying to talk about it is going to make it one,” Maalik got up, closing his book. With a sharp hand motion, he grabbed the bird and squished it into his palm, rendering it dead again instantly. “It’s time to sleep, I think.” He flicked off the lights.
“Am I attractive? If I don’t sin, but enable it, am I bad?” Iofiel asked into the dark. She could hear Maalik breath, and remembered another flaw she’d learned at the party: a tendency towards anxiety. “I just see me. Is sexuality seeing something more than that?”
“No. It’s a whole other… I don’t know how to explain it, really. It’s a something else.”
“Sorry, by the way. You seem uncomfortable,” Iofiel said. She couldn’t see in the dark very well, just barely able to make out the lines of her fingers wiggling in the air above her, temporarily fascinated by her ability to control her muscles.
“Very astute.”
“I know you have anxiety. You just don’t really act like it.”
“I don’t like being flawed,” his stiff tone had turned into a bitter one, “My duty is to Heaven. Letting anything else show is…” Maalik paused. “I think we’re both a bit overdramatic tonight. That’s what secrets do.”
The moon was dark, the room was darker. “So like, am I pretty or what?”
“Yes. Pretty, until you start yammering about topics that make a certain near-friend of yours highly stressed. Then you fall down to just cute.”
Good Angel (Good Angel Duology Book 1) Page 7