Airs & Graces: The Angel's Grace Trilogy Book I

by A. J. Downey

  I heaved a sigh, and the girl who had a hold of my hand looked at me, blinking. I didn’t want her feeling like she’d done anything wrong, so I gave her my best smile, but I knew instantly what made it onto my face was a very watered down version. It seemed to satisfy her, though, because she beamed back at me and, in heavily accented English, said, “Come, come!” and led me out of the Temple’s grand chamber. She went to the corner of the large room, just off to the left of the large doors we had entered through, and pulled back one of the red cloth hangings that hung from the so-very-high ceiling. It was a doorway, completely black, with stone steps leading in a sweeping curve downward.

  I swallowed, the images from the frat house ghosting up from my memory. Stone steps, an altar drenched in blood, and Tab’s screaming face. The girl was tugging gently at my hand, and so I steeled myself and followed. After the first gentle curve, we hit an alcove lit with flickering candles, the scent of beeswax soothing and familiar. God, I had so much to think about… Archangels, old gods and Demons, oh my! I coughed to cover up my insane desire to start laughing. At this point if I started laughing, it would probably turn to tears, then screaming, and if I let that happen, I would probably go stark raving mad.

  I was so not letting that happen, so I followed my guide’s enthusiastic gait and just looked forward to a moment alone with a tub of hot water. It felt like we were traversing an entire underground city, with how many passageways we went through, and I counted at least three more flights of stairs as we went down, each one short, but still, to my aching body it felt like I was skipping down from the top of the Columbia Tower back in Seattle.

  I finally thought to ask her, “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name, but could you tell me where I am?” My guide stopped and turned, smiling, but with a puzzled look on her delicate face. Maybe I was overestimating her English skills. She pointed at herself, and I nodded.

  “Mei-Lei,” she said with a dazzling smile. I couldn’t help it; I smiled back and pointed at myself.

  “Addy,” I said, not even bothering with my full name. “Where are we?” I tried again. She waved her hand as if I should take in the nondescript gray walls. There were archways serving as windows on some of these lower floors now, and I could see nothing but snowcapped mountains through them – though it wasn’t cold, it definitely was crisp, and I tried a different tack.

  I put my hands on my chest and said “America,” then swept them out around me. It was like a light went on in her deep brown eyes, and she made a happy noise and put her hands on her chest then swept them out and said, “Tibet.”

  I managed to keep my jaw off the floor and had to jog a little bit to catch up to her. I smiled to myself and thought about how I’d always wanted to see someplace like this. Still, with how I got here, I would have much rather bought a ticket.

  The girl led me down one last flight of steps to a heavy wooden door bound by iron, and I was again reminded of some medieval torture chamber, but when she wrenched it open, steam billowed out into the hall, and I blinked, surprised. The air smelled heavy with minerals, and I was suddenly eager to go through the door and see. I had always heard of natural hot springs, even seen video and pictures on the Discovery Channel and on the net, but to actually see one in person – hell, to take a bath in one – was going to be awesome!

  The bathhouse, for lack of a better descriptive word, was empty and wasn’t at all what I expected. It was a natural hot spring, all right, and it came up into three natural pools. The room was dimly lit by oil lamps in alcoves cut along the walls, and there was one window in the room, but instead of open air it had thick, opaque glass in it that may have started out white but was now yellow with age. I felt a sudden pang of loss and indescribable hurt as the stray thought flitted through my conscious mind, Piorre would have loved this.

  There were three solid wooden beams, like in the Temple’s worship chamber far above us that went down the center of the relatively narrow room. Each beam had thick pegs pounded into them, and when I say thick, I mean as thick as my wrist. While most of the pegs were empty, one had what looked like a white terrycloth bathrobe hanging on it. Mei-Lei turned and beamed at the look on my face, clearly very proud of the Temple she lived in and very happy it didn’t disappoint me.

  She pointed to the first pool of gently steaming water and said “Warm,” then to the next and said “Warmer,” and to the last, which almost bubbled, and said “Hot.”

  I nodded my understanding. “Thank you, Mei-Lei.” She nodded and pointed at a tray with soap on it at the base of the pillar where the robe hung.

  “You leave clothes here.” She pointed beside the tray. “I see you eat.”

  “Thank you,” I said again and smiled, and she left me to it, for which I was grateful. I unzipped my jacket and went through its pockets. I pulled out the few odds and ends and put them in the messenger bag, figuring that the jacket that I’d worn since high school may not be returned to me. I didn’t know the Temple’s policy on clothing saturated in stinky Demons’ blood. Maybe they burned it or something. I hung it up on a peg and did my best to fold the tee stained with mine and Rahab’s blood, and my bra, neatly stacking them next to each other at the base of the pillar. I at least hoped I would get the bra back. It was black and didn’t show any of my blood on it, and being under my jacket, it had survived the encounter with the Demons outside the ramshackle village. I tried to make two piles, one savable and one not… my jeans lived between the two piles, as they had Demon’s blood on them but not a whole lot.

  I couldn’t get the necklace off from around my neck no matter how hard I tried, but I decided that it was okay for now. After all, it had warned me, right? It was old-looking, hanging on a thick twist of silver chain, the pendant in the shape of a drop. The stone was definitely Baltic amber, and the setting that held it in place was silver carved to look like oak leaves. It wasn’t ugly at all; in fact it was prettier than anything I had ever owned. I might have liked it if it hadn’t been forced on me, you know? Scratch that, I would have liked it if it hadn’t been given to me by one of the scariest motherfuckers I had ever seen. I don’t know what Hadad did to us. I’m not even sure he did anything at all. We were all standing there, then it was like he had said something or done something that had freaked Tab out. Everything was fine, and then Tab was a pillar of stone, and I could just feel that something had happened. Whatever it was, it was so subtle I had missed it.

  I tried not to think about it anymore and fingered Piorre’s rosary instead. It was still secure around my wrist, and I firmly decided there wasn’t an icicle’s chance in hell I would lose it and left it where it was. The cross, now free of my jacket sleeve, gently bumped my hand as if to remind me I had to keep going. I grabbed a fragrant bar of soap and went for the hottest pool. I tested the temp with a toe and found it to be just this side of too hot for me, but I got in anyways, sinking up to my shoulders in the water. Muscles I hadn’t even known were tense were forced to relax under the heat’s gentle prying.

  It was finally quiet, and I was by myself… or at least appeared to be, and so I finally felt like I was able to think. I had so many questions for Tab, but I wasn’t stupid. I could see his annoyance at most of my questions, which was something, because he was so hard to read.

  The Demons in Chile had passed for human at a distance. Their skin wasn’t right, it had looked waxy up close. Still, it was scary how easily those things could hide as people. Then they had changed… when Tab told me to get in front of him, I didn’t question it that time. I just did what I was told: weird for me, I know, but he seemed to know what the hell he was doing.

  All I remember after that were wings… sparkling crimson in the rich daylight, the feathers edged in near perfect black. I thought all Angel wings were white… I’d thought Tab’s were a different color because he was a Fallen Angel, but he was definitely one of the good guys. Maybe I could ask later about the significance of the red and black, if he ever seemed to be in a charitable mood…r />
  Ugh, I needed to stop thinking about the gorgeous guy protecting my sorry ass and focus more on what was going on. I refused to be one of those insipid women you read about in novels that go all gooey-eyed at their masculine savior. Instead I let my mind go blank and pulled the hair tie off the end of my braid, putting it around the wrist not taken up by anything at the moment. I started to scrub myself clean and winced as the water surrounding me turned rusty, then a mixture of dark rust and black. I was suddenly glad there were no mirrors, that is, until I tried to get a look at my chest where I’d been stabbed. Alas, I was too well endowed for that, only getting a peek at the edge of the injury which was shiny pink and flat… new scar. I was impressed: for that much healing to happen on its own I should have been laid up for weeks, not minutes.

  I finally decided to try to narrow down my truckload of questions for Tab to an amount that could fit in some carry-on luggage. I figured the more I figured out on my own the better off I would be, the guy – Angel was my only chance at figuring out what was happening to me. Shit… I categorized that as one of the questions I needed answered the most. What did being saddled with Iaoel’s Grace actually mean? What did it do? I mean, could it do anything other than show me scary fucked-up visions of the past? Was there more to it than that?

  I submerged myself to rinse my hair and kept thinking. So I go into work and my boss is near death because he has something that both Heaven and Hell would kill to have… I covered my face with my hands. Which Heaven or Hell did kill to have, but somehow Piorre managed to give it to me… I looked at my wrist and the rosary dripping water into the pool. I really wished it were so simple, and I can’t tell you how I knew it, but in my heart I just knew it wasn’t as easy as handing over the old man’s rosary. It just couldn’t be. Iaoel was deeply entrenched and making my body and mind her home away from home… her sanctuary. I scrubbed my face with my hands, wiping the water off until I was comfortable.

  Piorre had done this to me, imbued me with Iaoel’s ‘Grace.’ Whether that move was out of trust in me or simply a last resort, I would never know, but either way, I wasn’t about to disappoint the old man. Piorre had given me a chance when no one, not even my own family, would. He had believed in me when my own mother had pretty much chalked me up to being her biggest disappointment. I wasn’t about to screw him over now. With that decision made, I could feel my jaw set in grim resignation. There’s no weaseling out of this one, Addy girl, I told myself. Whatever, whoever this thing was that I had rattling around in my head, I would see it through, then try to get my life straightened out. Whoever it was, he or she was giving me visions… She.

  I was certain of that fact. I mean hadn’t that been said out loud? While Tab stood around yakking with Hadad in the abbey, I could swear I’d heard them refer to her as a she. While they’d been talking, that was when I had decided that what I’d seen in the frat house couldn’t be real. At least not real right then, as I saw it happening. The awful vision of Tab on that rock with the Archangels around him had been scary and tragic as fuck. He’d confirmed at the diner for me that it was a past event, and even now my heart ached a little for him. Why did the Archangels do that to him though? I hated asking and dragging it back up, but I put it on the list of things to ask Tabbris. I smiled. I liked his full name. It was awkward like mine, but his still at least sounded cool… Tabbris… Tab. It wasn’t an old woman’s name like Adelaide… God, I hated my mother sometimes for that. Addy was at least marginally better.

  I sighed, hoisted myself out of the pool, and sat dripping on its edge for a minute. I was hungry: I couldn’t hold my thoughts together real well, and that was always one of my first signs that it was way past time for me to eat something. I didn’t want to put the bathrobe on wet, but I didn’t see a towel so I sat there and wrung out my long, thick hair to within an inch of its life before getting up. It was so dark it was black when it was wet like this… I gave my hair one final extra wring to make sure that I didn’t soak the back of the robe before standing up. My vision swam for a moment, and I fought a wave of dizziness. I waited for one of Iaoel’s horrible sights, but none came. I’d just gotten up too fast was all, I think. I really wanted to know more about her, but Tab was the only person I could ask. I shrugged into the robe and wrapped it tightly around me, belting it securely. Slinging my bag across my chest again, I went for the door and slipped out. Mei-Lei was just coming down the last step, and she grinned when she saw me, holding out her hand.

  “Come, Addy!” she said enthusiastically “You eat now.” I smiled back at her and followed her back through the labyrinth of halls and steps that would make an Escher painting jealous.

  We emerged into what I could only describe as a Chinese cafeteria. The floors were more of that rich red wood, as were the tables and benches. There was more red cloth hanging from the ceiling in decorative panels between the windows, and running along the center of each long table. Lamps sat in the center of each table, flickering softly in the cavernous room, and one of the tables nearest the doors we slipped through had a place set. I looked at Mei-Lei and waved at her to come join me, but she just waved me on happily and remained by the door.

  I sat down and looked back, and there she stood, smiling and serene. I felt awkward eating in front of her and tried one more time.

  “Come sit?” I asked, patting the bench beside me. She bowed and said something in Mandarin that I actually remembered. ‘Shey-shey’ is what it sounded like, but it meant ‘thank you.’ It was one of Piorre’s things. He liked to learn to say ‘thank you’ in every language, and I had insisted I learn too, because it was a cool idea.

  Mei-Lei took a seat across from me, and I offered her a piece of what looked like fruit from my plate. She smiled, accepted it, and nibbled at it and I felt better about eating. There was rice and some kind of meat that looked like chicken, fruit and dumplings and it was all really, really good because damn, I was starved. Mei-Lei laughed at my American use of the chopsticks but nevertheless cheered and clapped when I got the food in my mouth reasonably well. I laughed with her, handed them to her, and gesticulated she should show me how to hold them.

  She did, and I was suitably impressed. At the same time, I felt foolish at my attempts, but forks were easy, and she’d been using chopsticks all her life right? We giggled over a few of my failed attempts, and she tried to school me. I managed to clean my plate and smile and say thank you in Mandarin. She blinked and rattled off a full sentence in the exotic language, and I made an apologetic face. She laughed and nodded her understanding that that was all I knew.

  She was so young, maybe seventeen, and such a pretty girl, her quilted jacket a midnight blue that brought out the true black in her hair, but not black like Tab’s, which shone with blue highlights. She stood and held out her hand, and I took it. She whisked me away from the Temple’s cafeteria and back up some more stairs. Finally we were in a long hallway lit by torches, honest to God torches, that sprang from the walls intermittently between gleaming wood doors. It looked like a dormitory or a cloister or something, and she led me to a door and opened the latch. The room was tiny and sparsely furnished but clean. It had a squat twin-sized bed and a table and chair and a solitary window: slim, tall, narrow, and, like most of the windows here, open air. I thanked Mei-Lei in an appreciative tone.

  “You rest now, Addy. You go where you want while you here. Most can tell you where go. I come find you, you wake.” She bowed, and I bowed back awkwardly, but points for trying, yeah?

  She shut the door softly behind her, and I sank down on the bed. I was grateful there was no click of a lock on the outside of the door. I really did feel like a guest here and not a prisoner. It put my mind at ease; Tab really could learn a couple things from these folks. I bit the inside of my cheek and instantly regretted the thought. I was being an uncharitable bitch. I stood, pulled back the thick quilt on the bed, and lay down. The bed was a bit short for my tall frame, but it didn’t matter; I slept curled on my side so it was pe
rfectly comfortable. I closed my eyes, and I think I was instantly asleep.

  ***

  The dream was an awkward one for me to have. I was in the antique shop, and this girl was chattering away as she dusted, her long hair done up in a braid that fell single file down her spine. She was tall and wiping down the higher shelf of candlesticks with no more help to reach them than standing on her toes. I blinked, my old eyes misting with pride at how she learned things so quickly, and I dashed them away, pulling off my half-moon glasses and pinching the bridge of my nose to disguise the tears as an old man with a headache. The girl turned with a rakish grin and asked one of her myriad questions, and I woke up… sitting straight in the borrowed Temple bed in Tibet, half a world away from Piorre’s old antique shop and thoroughly creeped out by the image of my own body turning to smile at me.

  It was dark outside the window save for the silver glow of the moon and stars. I lay back down with my mind racing… What had Piorre done to me? My own eyes misted, then spilled over as I rolled onto my side and hugged my knees, the sobs finally coming so fast and fierce they choked off the scream of rage that had been coming up out of my center. Piorre was dead, someone had murdered him… the closest thing I would ever have to a parental figure that gave a damn. The only person whose disappointment actually counted for something, other than just a mechanism for making me feel like shit. I slammed a fist into the firm mattress again, again, and again, but it only made me feel marginally better, because if what I had just dreamt meant what I think it did, then I was sure that Piorre had given this to me on purpose. He knew I would figure it out and do the right thing. Right?

  I let myself grieve at an accelerated pace because this was a huge piece of the puzzle, at least for me. I had Piorre’s memories, and he knew something, something that seriously pissed in Heaven and Hell’s Cheerios, enough for them to come after him and kill him for it. Now I had it, and I had better get an inside edge on this thing before it killed me too. I thought furiously about it, letting the tears dry on my face.