Abyss of the Fallen

by Diana Estell

  Magethna’s daily planner became more like a daily journal. The nib of her quill solemnly stopped in a moment of silence for this day of memorials. Mark and his family laughed together at their friends’ house.

  The Seraphs sang in perfect harmony, like wind-chimed bells, as unmatched freedom marched into a war, triumphant and victorious, in a memorial of infinite days.

  Temporarily, Magethna put her daily planner and quill back into her pocket, for in keeping with the mood of the day, the Seraphs unsheathed their swords in honor of those soldiers and the soldiers yet to come. In a blinding flash, their swords shot up. The gleam of the sun raced down their blades and then shot back up again, radiantly reflecting the glory around them.

  “To glory! To glory!”

  Sheathing their swords, Dorian spoke. “Nuvila comes in light, pointing to the hour bearing witness to a greater hope.”

  Magethna clapped her hands in agreement.

  Dagon watched Mark arrive with his family at the Glynns’ house.

  I don’t want Mary to pay the price with her memories. Dagon only planned for Mary not being able to see. He didn’t want her hearing the horrible event either. How to get around this? He wasn't sure, so he fretted over it.

  “Hey, you still owe us cash,” said Mr. Cool.

  Dagon winced at the not-quite harmony and then got off the porch swing to take out his wallet. He opened it and threw many bills into the wind. The greedy guys chased them.

  “Remember ... pay as you go, and you’ll never owe.”

  Dagon walked back to the porch swing and sat. He did his best to ignore them as they flicked the money several times in joy.

  A wonderful sound then replaced his money-hungry henchmen. His attention diverted to drawers opening and closing followed by the trickling of water. Mary was in the shower. His mind trailed off, which he berated himself over.

  Yes, my bonded mate is … his imagination tumbled over again, so he stood up, attempting to distract himself. He took off his coat and lay it on the porch swing, but the swing rocked violently under the weight of the coat. He was about to put the porch swing under the veil, when a ruckus coming from inside startled him. Cautiously, Mary moved the curtains out of her way and searched the front of the house. Quickly, Dagon stopped the porch swing and then reversed his veils. The curtains closed as she went back to whatever she was doing. Seeing her made Dagon's temperature rise.

  The veiled porch swing swung back and forth gently. Dagon removed his long-sleeved shirt and placed it on the swing next to his coat. Shirtless, he leaned over his coat and rummaged through the pockets looking for a short-sleeved shirt. Mary again parted the curtain and looked.

  The hairs of his chest and arms prickled from embarrassment. Mary couldn’t see him, but it made him blush. Unsure why she stood at the window, he looked around. He didn’t hear any noises except his guys telling him to show some decency and get a shirt on. With delight, he enjoyed Mary’s smile. Then out of impulse, Dagon went to the window and traced her face with his finger. Her breath gently fogged up the glass in front of her as his fingers traced the contours of her face. Losing whatever sense of decency that still clung to him, he outlined some of her body parts, but the curtains closed, and she was gone.

  “For shame,” Mr. Cool scolded.

  Dagon happily ignored him. He found a plain shirt, with a deep V neckline.

  Dagon somberly watched the Memorial Day celebrations around him as his mind searched for a way to have Mary’s hearing somehow blocked.

  “Hey, get a move on. The hot … 'you know who' is inside, not outside.” The four jesters teased. Funny thing, they were right.

  Dagon only smiled. Just then, a man jogged by, singing away. The pitch and lyrics sounded jerky with the jolt of the jogger’s feet hitting the pavement. The jogger was out of human view, but Dagon could see and hear both him and the music device attached to his clothes. This gave Dagon a brilliant idea. Walking in place and out of breath, the jogger took out a phone like Mary’s and with a touch of his finger, he selected a song before singing and jogging again.

  Placing her folded clothes in a laundry basket, Mary picked up a wadded up white top sheet from the floor and shook it. The sheet would probably never be as clean as the garments her Angel Dream wore. In an odd way, she was cleaning him, or at least his wounds.

  She went into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. With a sly grin, she added her secret ingredient. While waiting for it to brew, she took the laundry basket to put her folded clothes away. She paused a moment before heading upstairs to peek out the porch window to investigate a strange sound. Seeing only the creaking porch swing, she continued to her bedroom. Drawer after practically empty drawer opened and closed, for she hadn’t done laundry in many days. With the laundry basket empty, she sat on her bed. Everything around her confirmed that Dagon was real.

  Mary went back to the porch window. The bright sunlight hurt her eyes. Dagon’s brilliant blond hair sometimes caused her eyes to squint. A combination of beauty and sadness. She could almost smell his musky scent.

  For a second, she thought she saw Dagon standing with his coat over his arm and running his fingers through his hair. The doorbell rang. Startled, Mary flew to the peep hole, and with joy, saw Dagon’s face smiling at her.

  She yanked the door open and threw herself into his arms. Dagon’s coat scrunched in as Mary’s body clung to him and he clung back.

  “I missed you,” said Mary in a muffled voice, her face buried in his neck as she breathed the deep heady musk on his skin.

  “I missed you too, baby.”

  Holding Dagon by the hand, Mary backed up, and Dagon followed her. Dagon kicked the door shut behind him with his foot, and he pulled Mary back to himself and kissed her. Mary’s fingers slid into his hair. Dagon reluctantly pulled back.

  “Luv, things need to be done properly, with proper timing.” His body shook.

  “The timing is just right.” Mary snapped her fingers and swayed her hips.

  Dagon accepted her kiss with a controlled and reserved effort.

  Dagon’s lips skimmed her neck. “It will be, soon.”

  Mary exposed more of her neck. “It better.”

  “Uh huh,” Dagon slurred.

  Mary pulled away slightly. “You look hot.”

  “Oh … um … yeah, I …”

  “It’s so hot outside,” said Mary.

  Dagon drooped. “Oh, you mean the temperature.”

  “Well? Aren’t you hot?” Mary repeated. Her eyes raked over the deep V neckline of his shirt. Unlike the last time, there was more to see and appreciate.

  Dagon looked down at his chest and back up at Mary.

  “Isn’t that coat too hot for this weather?”

  “No, but my face and other exposed extremities are affected by temperature changes.” Dagon sighed awkwardly. “Must I always use the word 'exposed'?”

  Mary just laughed as she led him over to the coat closet. She tried to take the coat from him to hang it up, but it wouldn’t budge. The weight of the seemingly leather coat astounded her. His short-sleeved shirt revealed his wrists, so he shoved the other arm under his coat.

  “You look good, luv, nice and cool.”

  “You look good, too, but do you …”

  “But do I … what?” said Dagon, his body shook slightly.

  “Do you have shorts?”

  “What are shorts? Or are ‘shorts’ a … um … a condition?”

  Mary put her hand to her mouth and stifled a laugh.

  “Did I say something funny?”

  “I’m sorry … I’m sometimes surprised by what you know and what you don’t know, that’s all.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m wearing shorts, see? And you wear them when it’s hot outside, like today.”

  “Do they only come in pink?”

  Mary giggled again and explained they come in all kinds of colors and even styles for men.

  “We can buy some soon for you if you’d lik
e,” said Mary.

  “I’d like that, thank you.”

  Anything which involved being with Dagon was all right with her.

  “You are so beautiful, Mary, so beautiful. My eyes are weak. I think I may need spectacles.”

  Dagon’s voice had a smooth romantic veneer to it, which made Mary swoon as she tilted her head up.

  “Spectacles?” repeated Mary. She became quiet and stared at him, speechless, with his use of the outdated word.

  “You know, corrective eye wear?” he said.

  “You mean glasses.”

  “If glasses are corrective eye wear, then yes, I mean glasses.”

  “You have superhero eyes, remember, honey? You don’t need glasses or spectacles.”

  “I think I do, but I think even with corrective eye wear, I still wouldn’t see your full beauty, for it is deeper still than every inch of your radiant skin.”

  “Dagon, do all Seraphs talk like this?”

  “What are you referring to?”

  “Dagon, coffee!” Mary walked quickly toward the kitchen, talking as she went. “I put it on a while ago … do you want some?”

  “Yes, I would love some; I could smell it from outside.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes, my sense of smell is very good.”

  “Dagon, do you have a car?”

  “Baby, let’s just have some of that coffee, for I have several surprises for you.”

  He hugged her, and she didn’t let go. Wanting some coffee, her hand slid down his chest, and his muscles flexed. Mary took his hand and led him into the kitchen.

  Sitting at the table with glasses of iced coffee, Mary wanted to ask about her surprises but decided to wait and let him bring it up.

  “This is just as good as hot coffee,” Dagon said after a few sips. “Imagine that. Coffee for every season.”

  “Do all Seraphs talk like you?”

  “You’ve asked before about Seraphic speech. Seraphs don’t learn how to talk in any specific way, we just utter our thoughts.”

  “See, like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like how you said ‘utter.’ It’s romantic.”

  “Well, I don’t know much about romance, but I know my love for you is deeper than any ocean.”

  “See? Romantic. Sometimes, but not all the time, you use outdated words, like when you told me your name. You used the word ‘tis,’ and just now the word ‘spectacles.’ But mostly, it’s the way you say things as a whole. It’s antique, but not exactly outdated. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

  “You remembered that?”

  “Yes.”

  “As long as I’ve been on Earth, or the Second Land, I have not spent a lot of time with people, and so my speech reflects this, I’m afraid.”

  “I love it.”

  “I’m glad, but maybe your friends would find it … I don’t know … strange?” Dagon cringed.

  “I don’t care what my friends think, but I also don’t want you to feel badly. I think our two hearts are better than one, don’t you?”

  “Yes, luv, I agree.”

  She doesn’t mind my oddities … she doesn’t want me feeling badly … two hearts are better than one … wow. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

  “I know what has to be done, but it’s difficult. I know we can’t get out of it, but Mark’s family, well, it’s just so hard.”

  “Yes, I know, and I wish that I could change it for you, luv. I wish that I could go back through time and undo what I agreed to. I know that in doing so, I would never have known you, but the alternative under these circumstances is agonizing.”

  “But, Dagon, I’m glad we found each other.”

  “I’m glad too, very glad.”

  “I was wondering, do you work?”

  “Kind of.”

  “What do you mean, ‘kind of'?”

  “Well … I … follow the stock market … and acquire money in that way.”

  “So, you trade and sell stocks?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you a broker?” Mary raised an eyebrow.

  “No.”

  “Is it legal?”

  “Now, why would you think that it was illegal?” Dagon winked.

  “Well, since you can read minds …”

  “Reading minds isn’t illegal.”

  “No … I know that, Dagon. But it's just … your life is not like mine. You don't seem to have many limits. You are exciting.”

  He heard her heart race. “I’m exciting?”

  “Yes, very.”

  “Well, there is more excitement coming. I can hear tips going down about stocks, so I capitalize on it. I’ve been exchanging money and buying and selling stocks for centuries.”

  “Centuries?”

  “Yes, when empires would fall or rulers would change, I capitalized on it. A bit of arbitrage here and there, you know, normal stuff.” Dagon smiled.

  Mary’s mouth hung open.

  “Baby, I’m rich,” said Dagon in a slow, accentuated tone, showing Mary a stack from his pocket.

  “I never saw a stack of money like that. What is that one on top? I never saw one like that before?”

  “It’s a thousand-dollar bill. I’m what you would call, ‘old money.’”

  Mary smiled. “Most of my money is in the bank. I work part-time at the Pines Restaurant. With the insurance money, I never had to work more than that. I live frugally—that’s how I was raised.”

  “I see.”

  “You know how you told me you’re a neat freak?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well … I’m not. I’m more of a generational pack rat.”

  After the word “pack rat” his eyes darted around the room. “Did it bother you when I cleaned here?”

  “It was strange.”

  “Am I strange?” Chair legs screeched and the table wobbled, sloshing coffee when he pushed back and shot up.

  “Don’t put words in my mouth. I never said you were strange!” Chair legs screeched and the table wobbled, and more coffee spilled, when Mary got up and left the kitchen.

  Dagon found her sitting on the porch swing. Her face fire red.

  Dagon stood next to her. “I’m sorry … I …”

  “You should be!” Mary glared up at him. The situation is strange. I mean, what guy cleans his girlfriend’s house anyway!” A tear streaked her cheek. “It made me feel bad about myself.”

  “You didn’t let on like it bothered you.” Dagon folded his arms.

  Mary hit the bench with her hand. “Well it did! I just didn’t show it.”

  Dagon hung his head. “I have lots to learn. I’m sorry, Mary, about my outburst, and I would never want you to feel bad about yourself, like I do.”

  “Aren’t we the pair.” Mary giggled while she pushed the porch swing.

  Dagon sat next to her, his hands in his lap. “I guess we are.”

  Mary touched his leg. “I don’t know how to explain this, but I don’t think you are strange … it’s just …”

  “I think I understand. Not everything can be explained.”

  “Let’s just start over. Want some coffee?” Mary got up.

  “Can we clean the mess on the table first?”

  “Yes.” Mary helped him up.

  Hand in hand they went back into the kitchen.

  This human life is hard. He wanted to draw this moment out as much as possible, before Mark became a memory.

  22

  Private Affection

  Mary insisted that Dagon should hang up his coat, which apparently, he didn’t want to do. He reluctantly gave in.

  “Dagon! What happened to your arm?”

  “Oh that … that’s nothing … it’s just red.”

  “That is not ‘nothing' and of course it’s red—it looks infected. Honey, how did that happen?”

  “It’s fine. I cleaned it with soap and water.”

  Mary didn’t probe further but took his hand and led him up to her m
akeshift hospital, the master bathroom.

  “But, Mary, I’ve already cleaned it.”

  “Dagon Guardian, I’m going to clean your wounds now, and that’s that.”

  Halfway up the stairs, he stopped cold, his mind reeling with Mary’s words.

  “What surname did you call me … I mean, last name?”

  “I didn't say any last name. You don’t have one.”

  “Yeah … you did. I have a last name now.”

  Mary’s eyebrows furrowed.

  “When you introduce me to people, I will have a last name,” said Dagon, excitement growing. He never factored meeting other people, but with Mary in the human world, this would be unavoidable.

  “I guess you do. I think your title must have stuck in my mind. Well, it is like your last name, your title and all, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose it is.”

  Once Dagon was cleaned and bandaged, nurse Mary opened a vanity drawer and pulled out a silver tube. She took off the cap and twisted the bottom of the tube, making a red stick appear. Mary wrote “I love you” on his bandage in red letters, the same color as her lips were right now.

  The simple act moved Dagon, and he hid her words deeply in his heart. He reached up and kissed her, bringing her onto his lap.

  “We’re on the toilet, not the most romantic setting,” she observed.

  “I figure mortal life must be lived anywhere and at any time. I love you, all the time.”

  “I love you the same.”

  This act of private affection raked over his soul, bringing the shame of his act of private blood to the surface.

  “Dagon, what document is my signature on? The agreement, I mean.”

  “It’s just a piece of stone. Nothing more, nothing less,” he said, trying to get out of any more questions regarding the stone. Not wanting to lose momentum, he led her downstairs. He hesitated in front of the couch.

  “It’s clean, honey,” said Mary.

  “Trust me, baby, it’s not.”

  “Where is the dirt, then?”

  “Everywhere.”

  “I don’t see it,” said Mary in a sing song voice.