Iofiel, beaming before, crossed her arms. “What? I know it’s unorthodox for an angel to try these things, but I am an angel — gifted in all arts, born with decades of intelligence... and very likable.”
“Isn’t it a sin for you to do this,” Damien said flatly.
“Y-Yeah, maybe…?” Iofiel stuttered. “But I mean, I’m doing it. I haven’t been struck down.”
“Are you capable of lying?” Santiago had a sharp frown obviously meant to mask a smile, and the end result was very nonplussed expression with a tad of malevolence. “Are you sure you’re not preprogrammed to prevent harm to humans?”
“We should have them go out and kill!” Damien piped up, her voice cracking. “Sneak them out to a club or something and see if they can’t fake an accident.”
“I’m fully capable of lying,” Archie said, nodding slowly. He swallowed. “And I’ll kill if I have to.”
“Me too!” Iofiel exclaimed, though she had zero interest in killing, and at the thought her stomach seized up.
“Whoah, whoah, didn’t I tell you to ignore my terrible girlfriend? No one is killing anyone tonight. Let’s wait until midterms to give that a go.”
Damien rolled her eyes, “This is pointless. Imps don’t even live for three years, and you know someone from up on high is going to kill the angel before the end of the year.”
Archie curled up slightly at this reminder of his mortality. Similarly, it was starting to sink in to Iofiel that she was doomed. Absolutely. No Archangel was going to be okay with her stark deviance. And they’d stopped felling angels a long time ago.
“Damien! You’re awful, and I love you, but also please go if you’re going to be such a hell spun prick,” Santiago frowned, and Damien moved her chair back. “Legitimately, leave.”
“Wait —” Archie stopped her departure with this word, twisting over in his seat to meet her gaze. “I’m not going to die in three years. I had spells put on me to prevent that.”
“What if someone clears them?” Damien growled, before sulking out of the room.
Santiago sighed heavily. “This is a bit futile, so you must understand Damien doesn’t hate you, but merely the concept of you. I imagine she isn’t alone in this. More so when we consider that you two are working together now. An imp among demons feels like a joke. It’s an affront to us, you need to know. We’re born and raised for positions of power. If any old Fallen can create an imp, and that imp is capable of learning and leading... There’ll be no more demons.”
“It’s not like they’d kill the rest of you,” Iofiel said, “Just after you’ve died out, there’d be imps instead. And is that really a bad thing?” It would be for Heaven. Imps were war fodder, but hitting generals, sales demons, and integrated workers always left a mark. If they could reduce the training time from twenty-one years to three, there would suddenly be a lot more problems for Heaven to combat.
“It’s the end of the old, and the end of us, so it feels very personal. I’m sure some demons are hoping Archie will prove himself valuable, but for most of us here at the Uni, his presence is like an attack on us. Our culture, our entire life, those eighteen years we spent as children, waiting.”
“I’m not sorry,” Archie said stiffly. “And I didn’t choose to live.”
“Honestly. Kid. I don’t want you to succeed either.” Santiago sounded apologetic. “But I’m here. I want to help you. And good job on that. Never apologize. Nothing is your fault, yet.”
“I guess that means something one day will be.” Iofiel turned to look at Archie, who avoided her line of sight. It hadn’t occurred to her before that he might be the dawn of a new era for Hell. If befriending him had been a bad idea before, it was now more than offensive. “Am I going to die?”
“Hard to promise anything, Blue.”
“Ugh. Can you not call me that? My roommate already does, so it’s a bit weird hearing it come from you.”
“Your hair is a bit overpowering, sorry. Also, your roommate has a pet name for you?”
“You’re trying to give one to me!”
“Sure, but I’m a condescending authority figure. Your roommate should probably lay off the cute nicknames if they want to avoid getting ganked. Speaking of: your chances. Low. If anyone asks, your best bet is to spin it. Pretend you’re merely doing research.”
“I thought of that. I’m just worried about the sudden inevitability of my death. I-I’d like to ask if you know who would be most likely to come down and interrogate me, but I suppose that’s a question for another angel to answer. I just don’t want to involve any other angels...”
“They’re all gonna find out one way or another. I’d give you a week.”
“Can we get back to studying? Or rather, begin?” Archie looked uncomfortable, a small frown on his face as he rolled his pencil across his desk. Granted, Iofiel was too.
“Another question you can’t answer: Do you think my roommate would take this hard?” Iofiel asked, ignoring him so that she might continue to mull.
“The hell would I know the answer to that.”
“He’s not the type to take kindly to these things, but I... think we’re friends?”
“Can you briefly describe him to me? I’ve been here five years. I should have seen him around once or twice.”
“Tall—”
“All of you are tall.”
“Well he’s taller than me. Blonde hair, kinda gold-brown skin, pink eyes. He has this one short shirt thing he wears like, every day? And a refl—”
By ‘pink eyes’, Santiago had closed her eyes and leaned back. “Maalik. Friggin’ fucking Maalik, huh. Fuck him.”
“Hey!” Even as she got used to cursing, strong language still hit a sharp, very rude nerve for Iofiel.
“Yeah. I know. He named you after a primary color, so you need to step in and defend him. But no, absolutely not, you should not try and get him on your side. Hell, you should get out of there before he learns what you’ve been up to.”
“Really?”
“Seriously. I know exactly who he is, and he’d freak out if he learned you had even spoken to a demon.”
“So... can we get back to studying?” Archie nearly shouted. “What we came here to do?”
They finally did settle down and do work. Santiago went over what they’d done the night before, helping correct their essays (as neither of them had ever written one before, this proved quite challenging). She also went over what the class had covered the first day the both of them had missed.
Archie was still anxious about his fate, as was Iofiel. Santiago was obviously trying to comfort them. Increasingly, she reassured them she’d stand up against anyone who gave them trouble, and twice she made thinly veiled lies that everything could possibly turn out alright, that the demons would grow to accept Archie as one of their own, and... well, maybe the angels would be cooler with nonconformity than expected?
It was all a tad dour, and grimmer still were both their chances at anything resembling proper magic. An hour into essay revisions and Iofiel’s head had been spinning, her mind seeming to buck at the mere thought of translating what she knew into small little pencil marks. Santiago had to cave at one point, and, for a while both were practicing handwriting, writing and rewriting the same sentence, pausing only to let Santiago shake her head when it wasn’t good enough.
So they switched gears to magic, pushing aside the large oak table and settling onto the floor. It took only around two minutes for Archie to click his hands correctly and summon a small ball of light.
“It’s supposed to be a fire,” Santiago said.
Iofiel had to remind herself constantly that Santiago was, actually, kinda nice. She had dropped all that a few minutes into review, and now her flat voice came off purely as menacing, as if she were plotting some subtle way to break both their legs at the end of the night.
“Hey, better than me.” Iofiel ducked through the motions of the spell, the four words, each with a corresponding finger tap, and t
hen a quick strike like her thumb was a match against the rough of her palm. She’d been practicing it despite the futility. Of course, nothing came.
“You’re actually doing the motions right, though. I can’t read either of your minds — Hell knows I don’t think I’d want to — but intent is half the battle. Evoking through verse is good for newbies, but it doesn’t matter if you don’t want it.”
Archie groaned, and fell back against the wall. “Obviously I want it.”
“I don’t doubt you, as a new speck of life in the universe, aren’t going to be as magically inclined as your peers. But I do doubt you want it. You’re a wimp! Fire is the easiest class of magic to learn. It takes, it gives, both through destruction. You don’t have to worry about hanging tails or misaimed spells, you just need to want. It’s about taking everything and gaining nothing for yourself.”
“What are you accusing me of? Being a good person?” Archie said, deadpan. “Come on, like any of my classmates are mad arsonists.”
“Well, no, they’re demons. We’re the bad guys, Archie. Do your duty and try acting like it.”
Archie sighed, and then concentrated for a moment, his brow furrowing. It was funny to watch him try and be angry. If anything, he looked like he’d broken something valuable and was shell-shocked from the experience.
He ran his nervous fingers through the motions again, but again produced nothing more than a bright ball of light. It gave off feeble heat, and in a few seconds, it flickered off.
“This is something you’ll have to figure out on your own.” Santiago said.
“What about me? None of this stuff works for me.”
“Ditto what I said before: It’s not my job to do everything for you. Some demon stuff will likely be flat out impossible for you, but who knows? Go read a book.” Santiago got up. It was late night, and Iofiel figured this was a sign they were ready to leave. “I don’t see why Adram switched you into demon magic courses anyway. It’s not like they’re conclusive to your major.”
“I think they’re just grouped? So if you study this, you have to do that. Even if it doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes no sense,” Santiago said, reassembling the room.
“Maybe Adramelek hates you,” Archie added.
“Or he’s challenging you.”
Iofiel didn’t know which would be worse.
9: It Will Be Fine
RITUALS TOOK PLACE Saturday morning, and besides a revelation that Iofiel couldn’t stand the smell of blood, it passed without incident. Surprisingly, she found herself understanding the core of demonic rituals more than angelic ones— the latter was all about stones, paper, and long chants, all in an effort to remain pure.
Demon methods were brash and messy by comparison, with heavy usage of sacrifice, blood, and bone. Larger spells meant more blood, or a bigger sacrifice. It was all tied together neatly with an explanation of an equal energy exchange— unlike with angels, where larger rituals meant gold ink, a different mixture of herbs, or coarse paper cut into triangles. Blood was simple, a brute method of energy transfer. To keep their hands clean, angels had to work with the tempermental magic of the universe, a school of study too theoretical and vague for Iofiel to wrap her head around.
The teacher showed them how to most effectively drain a dead bird of its blood, and then did an example spell that briefly called its spirit back. The ghost bird— an unearthly, unheavenly shade of blue— flew around the room, singing a frantic song, diving through the walls of the small wooden shack they were in. The core sunk in to Iofiel, the lesson she was supposed to be learning, but her stomach still twisted at the sight of the bird, circling, only half alive. She was like a bird, winged and beautiful and free. Hopefully she wouldn’t find herself trapped.
That morning, she’d woken up to Maalik sitting on the floor, packing a backpack.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, where do you get more clothes?” She was still laying in bed, buried under her blankets and her voice was muffled and groggy.
“You pick them up,” Maalik answered, stopping for a moment to acknowledge her with a curt nod. He had books on the floor beside him, his textbooks and a journal. “I’m going on a day trip with my Medical Practices class to several human care facilities. I’ll be back Sunday morning.”
“Oh!” Just the thought of a field trip filled Iofiel with energy. “Living as a human for a day sounds so exciting! So you’re going to look at hospitals?”
“Yes. Various forms of them, to observe human medical procedures and such.” Maalik was speaking in his clear, haughty tone, the sort of vocal performance that suggested displeasure. Iofiel tried to ignore it.
“Where are you sleeping for the night? Oh, and what will you be eating? Will you be going to another town? Or meeting human medical students?” It was never hard for Iofiel to put up an amicable appearance, but even as she sat up and began to brush her long, dark hair, Maalik’s stiff stature cut through her. It was hard to believe he didn’t know what she’d been up to, and even if he was still in the dark, it was clear he did not like it there.
“I’ve gone on trips like this before.” He slowly stood up, quickly sealing his pale green wings away and tossing the backpack over his now flat back. “I’ll see you Sunday, okay?”
He paused at the door, looking back, and Iofiel pushed herself out of bed. “Can you hide my halo and wings again?”
Maalik was silent, his eyes narrow, but without a word he began his spell work, and a few quiet minutes later, he was gone. The door had slammed behind him, and even though the dorms were drafty, Iofiel had then spent most of class thinking about that slam, and wondering if he’d done it on purpose.
How much longer could she delay this inevitability? She’d been able to tone out her guilt during class, her confused mix of friendship for Archie and loyalty to Heaven, but the moment she was walking out of Rituals all her self-doubt came buzzing back.
She had the rest of the day off, and she spent the first hour alone in her dorm room, watching Maalik’s side like it was something worthy of observation. She’d made plans with Santiago and Archie to meet up again next Wednesday morning, but otherwise she didn’t know how safe she felt exploring the University. Maalik had hid her wings and halo again this morning, but she’d brought them out again after Rituals. By now, the entire demon freshman class had glimpsed her as a classmate. Seeing her as an angel seemed like a bad idea— even if it did mean she was now stuck in her room.
She reread her Commerce essay twice, and skimmed her new Rituals textbook. She had yet to return her angelic ones, so she started leafing through her Practical Magic one in hopes of learning a fire spell— but the first one she found was a ways in, evidently meant for more experienced spellcasters. The first few were merely balls of light— in the hand, then from a distance, than rays of light... eventually, this moved onto magic she actually did need to memorize, invisibility and intangibility.
Magic was a learned trade, a practice of thought and muscle memory. She didn’t expect, really, to be able to pull off more advanced spells when she could barely handle a basic one, but…
Iofiel sat on the floor, her textbook open in front of her, staring at the page about intangibility. Reading still came slow to her, but a few rereads and she felt like she could do it. Hadn’t she felt Maalik cast exactly this spell a few times now? Hadn’t she seen other angels pull it off effortlessly in the halls?
With her legs crossed, Iofiel sat in the sun of her dorm room window and pulled one of her violet wings onto her lap. There was an incantation for it, but like many practical spells, the words could be replaced with meditation after some practice. Iofiel did not have time. Even if every demon had seen her now, even if Santiago insisted anyone could tell she was an angel at first glance, Iofiel wanted that divide. It felt safer to be two people, the winged angel and the blue haired girl, rather than tred too openly the space between.
She traced her feathers with determination, muttering the incantation with ev
ery variety of stressed syllables she could think of. She tried the gestures suggested in the book, she tried the few gestures she already knew from other spells. She tried to think about all the good reasons she needed this to work, and tried to make herself feel that shivering energy she felt whenever Maalik cast it for her.
But some time later, Iofiel was still holding her wings in the sunlight of her dorm room floor. One primary feather almost looked translucent in the light, but when she leaned back, she saw nothing had changed at all.
So, she couldn’t do it. Maybe later, but not right now, and now was now: she wanted to eat. She wanted to go outside. She didn’t want to be trapped, and…
Everyone was going to find out eventually. And Maalik wasn’t here right now, at least. And. Might as well. She’d been tramping around the first few days like a beacon, and probably nearly everyone knew she was an angel, wings or not.
She got up and left the dorm. Her room was situated on the third floor of the tower-like building, a little under half way to the top. Instead of wandering downstairs, she climbed up to the roof— a small, flat area without much of a wall to it. Stepping into the half sun of the afternoon was what she needed after her stuffy frustration. The wind was harsh, whipping her hair back and occasionally over her eyes. She was nearly pushed back by it just standing there, and when she unfurled her wings, she nearly lost her balance.
It was cold, too, but though she needed focus to use her spells, the ability to fly had been one she’d been born with, and it felt good to take a breath and leap into the sky, first tossed back like a toy and then, with a force of applied magic, hold herself in the air. She flew against the current, feeling the wind and air press cold against her skin, her wings like blades through an unforgiving storm. This was easy to her. It was pleasing to remember some things were.
She soared in a circle, once, relishing the control she felt in the air, and the subtle little ways the wind failed to take it from her. Then she dove to the roof of the University below. Her feet skidded on the shingles, sliding slowly down. When her toes stumbled off the steep rooftop she let herself fall for a second, and then pulled up with a great flap, taking higher into the grey sky.
Good Angel (Good Angel Duology Book 1) Page 10