A Gift of Wings (10 page)

Stepping aside for a shopper who was waiting to pay for the articles she’d selected, Lucky glanced at the glass doors to the museum. While she was here, she decided, she might as well go visit the winged bull. After dropping a couple of bills into the slot of the clear plastic bin on the side of the information desk, she headed through the glass doors. Once inside the museum, she stood still, staring at the majestic sculpture at the far end of the room. Displays were set up to either side of an open corridor, giving an unobstructed view of the massive creature that was both the room’s centerpiece and guardian spirit.

Walking slowly toward the statue, Lucky felt her lips curve into a smile. She’d loved coming here ever since the first time G-Ma had brought her when she was five or six. Her eyes had grown wide when she had first seen the huge, winged bull, then she had laughed with delight. She had felt much the same every time she’d come back to the museum. Sometimes, over the past eighteen months, she had popped in for a quick visit when she was having an especially rough day. Seeing the great bull with his wings arching over his back and his smiling human face had always lifted her spirits. Maybe it was because he was supposed to have been a protector.

“He’s quite something, isn’t he?”

Lucky turned toward the speaker in surprise. She had thought she was alone in the room. Giving him a brief glance before directing her gaze back to the object of their conversation, she smiled and nodded. “Yes, he is.”

“He’s a
lamassu
,” the man continued, moving closer to her, “a protector deity or guardian spirit of ancient Assyria.” His voice was oddly resonant, almost as if the sound had a kind of spatial dimensionality. “They used pairs of them, one on either side of the entryways into courtyards, to protect those who were inside and to keep a watchful eye on those who entered.”

Lucky really looked at the man for the first time. He was tall, nearly a foot taller than her average five and half feet, and dressed like a clichéd academic in brown leather oxfords, khakis, a white shirt, and a tweed sports jacket with suede patches on the elbows. His hair did not match his attire. It was quite long, falling in wheat and honey streaked waves to the bottom of his shoulder blades. The locks at each temple had been pulled back and were secured with a tie at the back of his head. His eyes were a pale gray and seemed to hold a wisdom beyond his apparent forty-odd years.

“I know,” Lucky said, looking from the man back to the huge stone sculpture. “I’ve been coming to see him for a long time.”

“Ah, I should have sensed a devotee.” Lucky could hear the smile in his rolling voice.

She shrugged. “I like him. He comforts me when I’m having a bad day. He somehow manages to be awe-inspiring and friendly all at the same time, you know?” Lucky looked at the man to try to gauge his response to her remark and found that he was studying the statue, a curious smile curving his lips.

“Oh, yes, I know very well,” he said softly.

He gazed at the winged man-bull for a few moments in silence and then, somewhat abruptly, turned toward Lucky and held out his right hand. “I’m Zeke, by the way,” he said. “Might I find out the name of my fellow admirer?”

“Lucky,” she responded. “My name is Lucky.” She took his proffered hand and was surprised when, instead of shaking it, he turned it in his palm and raised it to his lips to brush a chaste kiss across her knuckles.

“Are you interested in ancient religions, in general, Lucky, or just our large friend here?” he asked, releasing her hand. His pale eyes twinkled as he met her gaze.

“I’m interested in general,” she said with a smile. “I just have a special fondness for this guy. When I go to college, I think I’d like to study archeology and ancient traditions.”

Zeke raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Well, then, you might be interested in a lecture I’m giving here on Friday afternoon. I know—terrible time. Why would anyone want to attend a lecture on a Friday afternoon? But so it goes. In any case, I’ll be speaking about this big fellow and others of his ilk.” Lowering his voice to a stage whisper, he added, “I may even provide some information that’s new to you.”

“What do you say?” he asked, his voice at normal volume.

Why not?
Lucky thought. It wasn’t as if she had any special plans for Friday anyway, and it sounded interesting. “What time? And you said it would be here?”

“It’s at 2:00, in the small lecture hall upstairs,” said Zeke, pulling a card out of his pocket and scribbling on the back. “I’ll write the date, time, and room number on the back of my business card. There we go.” This last was added as he pocketed the pen and offered Lucky the card.

She barely glanced at it before sliding it into her pocket. “Thanks. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“Indeed,” Zeke said, “I believe you will find it most enlightening.”

Lucky gave a slight chuckle, wondering for a moment if he were joking, despite the seriousness of his tone. But when he just looked at her, she decided he definitely wasn’t joking. Well, he was a professor, after all; he probably did have a vast store of interesting and esoteric information to impart. She supposed she could forgive him a little arrogance. “I’m sure I will,” she said. “Thanks for telling me about it.”

“See you Friday, then?”

Lucky opened her mouth to give a noncommittal reply, but at that very moment she was struck with a strange certainty that the lecture hall upstairs was exactly the place she should spend her Friday afternoon. With the first part of her intended answer already on its way from her brain to her tongue, the message short-circuited, and she found herself responding in the affirmative. “Yes, see you Friday.”

As if her confirmation were a form of dismissal, Zeke nodded a farewell and, turning on his heel, walked back down the center of the room toward the double glass doors. As she looked after him, Lucky thought she glimpsed a much larger, shadowy form trying to take shape around his figure, but she blinked, and the illusion was gone. Then Zeke was gone too, as he passed through the doors, and they closed behind him. She stared after him, her forehead knotting in a frown.

Looking back at the
lamassu
, she said, “Bye, my friend. Since it seems I’m going to be here anyway, I’ll stop by and see
you
Friday as well.” Then she turned her back on him to walk toward the glass doors. Her frown settled into a smile as she did so, for she could feel his protective gaze following her all the way to the exit.

***

Standing in the cold, bright ante-room waiting for the angelic guard to return and grant him entry to the Metatron’s council chamber, Kev wondered, not for the first time, if agreeing to become
Ha-Satan
was really such a good idea after all. He had known the Metatron would not exactly be rolling out the welcome mat like he was a long-lost family member finally coming home. But he hadn’t fully grasped the reality of the suspicion under which he would be held until he had stepped through the Gates into the ante-chamber to find himself in the presence of two very large angels—either Powers or Dominions, he wasn’t sure which—who were armed with glowing swords and bedecked in the silvery white angelic armor that resembled nothing so much as chain mail but was more effective than Kevlar.

Since this was his introductory visit, Kev had deferred to ceremony and replaced his usual blue jeans, boots, buttoned shirt, and leather jacket with the traditional garb of
Ha-Satan
. The loose-fitting black silk trousers and the blood-red, knee-length, open-fronted robe offered next to no hiding places for weapons, but that hadn’t kept one of the large angels—Dominions, he’d decided—from patting him down, while the other eyed him coldly, sword at the ready.

Satisfied that he was unarmed, the Dominion who had felt him up had indicated that his companion could announce Kev’s presence to the Metatron. The second Dominion had left to do so, and Kev was currently awaiting his return, while the first stood guard over the door into the council chambers.

Kev suppressed a shiver. The room was as cold as his welcome, and he felt as if all his body heat was leaking out through his bare feet and chest. The medallion that indicated his station, a large obsidian pendant with the seal of
Ha-Satan
inlaid in jasper, lay heavy against his sternum. He waited in silence, eyes trained on the door, for what felt like an eternity before it finally opened and the guards gestured that he could enter. When his legs responded easily to his brain’s command to walk, he guessed that his feet hadn’t frozen to the floor after all.

After ushering him into the council chamber, the guards accompanied him every step of the way across the large room. Like that of the waiting room, the council chamber’s floor was of white marble. The walls too were white, with narrow, window-like openings through which shone a bright, silver-white light. The ceiling, which arched high overhead, seemed to be made of some clear crystal, but instead of blue sky beyond, all Kev could see was more of that silver-white light. At the far end of the room was a large council table, also made of crystal, which looked to Kev like a massive, ornate ice sculpture. The legs of the table were carved in the form of angels, kneeling and bowed over; the angel’s spread wings formed the table’s surface.

Behind the table stood four figures, all tall, slender, and at first glance, as silvery white as the room. As he drew closer though, Kev saw that their skin was not quite as silvery as he’d thought. Its transparent paleness revealed the tracery of veins beneath, and the angelic ichor in those veins gave their skin the faintest golden glow.

Centered in front of the table and a few feet away from it was a single crystal chair of the same design as the large table. Evidently, that uncomfortable-looking piece of furniture was to be his seat for the meeting. Kev took his place in front of the chair, inclining his head to each of the members of the Metatron in turn in the formal gesture of respect. He was somewhat disappointed, but not at all surprised, when each accepted his gesture without offering one in return. As one, the four angels indicated that he should take his seat, and they seated themselves as he did so. The Dominion guards flanked him, one on either side of the crystal chair.

The chair was every bit as uncomfortable as it looked—and just as cold. Now, every part of his anatomy was freezing. No matter its actual duration, this was going to be a long meeting.

The tallest of the angels, who was seated almost directly in front of Kev, just slightly to his left, and whose long silver-white hair flowed over his shoulders, introduced himself as Adrigon. The angel to his left, who was just to Kev’s right, was Tatriel. He was a little shorter than Adrigon and wore his long hair pulled back from his temples. The angel to Kev’s far right was Galiel. Margash was to Kev’s far left. Both had shorter hair, which just brushed the tops of their shoulders; Galiel’s was straight and Margash’s curly. Except for slight differences in height and the distinctions of hairstyle, the four angels were virtually identical. All had the same long, narrow features and the same pale eyes, an odd color, part blue, part green, and part gray, that somehow seemed to Kev to be the exact shade of ice.

Introductions over, Adrigon continued, “So, Kevin Drake, you are the latest to come to us as
Ha-Satan
. This time Lucifer has seen fit to send his own son.”

The angel paused as if awaiting a response. Kev wasn’t sure he’d heard a question in there anywhere, but he inclined his head in silent assent.

“Your mother, Katrin, was not fully human, but was herself Naphil, half-Seraph, the child of the Fallen, Semyaza.”

Again, the pause. Again, Kev inclined his head.

“And what messages do Lucifer and the Fallen send through you,
Ha-Satan
?”

Kev felt a sense of relief when he heard the question. That one he recognized as the standard formal opening of the diplomatic meeting. Now, he was on more familiar discursive turf. He delivered the response he had been practicing in preparation for today’s meeting. “Rumors have reached the ears of Lucifer and the Fallen. They have heard that some believe the time of Alliance between Light and Dark is at an end. They respectfully ask if the Metatron is of such an opinion. Does the Metatron seek an end to the Alliance?”

“And does not the act of war perpetrated on the Light by the Dark constitute a revocation of the Alliance? Has the Alliance not already been violated by the Dark?”

Kev had expected Adrigon to respond, but the questions came from Tatriel. His words were not angry or accusatory, but were calm and rational, as if affirmative answers to his questions were a given. Kev found the very reasonableness of the angel’s voice chilling. Nevertheless, he forced his own words into the same coolly rational tones.

“Certainly, if the crime was indeed committed by the Dark, then the
terms
of the Alliance have been violated. It does not necessarily follow that the Alliance itself has been destroyed. We could work together, Light and Dark—and Fallen—to seek out the perpetrators and see that they are punished. That would be in keeping with the terms of the Alliance.”

This time it was Galiel who responded. “And what would be the advantage to the Light in attempting to maintain this Alliance that has already been broken? Why should we not consider it ended?”

Kev answered with a question of his own. “Do you truly wish for war? If the Alliance is ended, such will be the outcome.”

“Are we to consider that a threat?” asked Margash.

In the midst of castigating himself for not choosing his words more wisely, Kev paused a moment to wonder if the members of the Metatron always took turns responding in the formal meeting. Then, weighing his words with care, he responded, “My apologies, Most High. No threat was intended. Please allow me to rephrase. As you are no doubt aware, there are certain among the Dark who merely tolerate Lucifer’s position among them. Their continued tolerance is, in large part, due to the Alliance. If the Alliance is ended, then their tolerance will decrease, putting Lucifer’s leadership at risk.”