The Angriest Angel

Chapter 2

Nathan had always enjoyed attending the Conventus, but not this time.  The Conventus was usually cheery; it was a state of the union—a pleasant forum for information sharing.  A celebration of achievement, encouragement, optimism, and sense of purpose.  And since the Caelans were a positive people, the conference was always a joyful occasion. 

But not this time.

Perhaps Avery's sour mood was the reason for his pessimism.  He glanced sideways at his girlfriend as she walked beside him, her long graceful strides betraying no emotion.  If she saw his look, she didn't show it.  She strode along the cobblestone walkway as if today were like any other day.

Even on Caelus she would be considered beautiful.

Almost as tall as he, her long legs elegantly swooshed within her sky-blue sheath dress as she walked.  Her tawny hair was pulled back in a ponytail, exposing her high cheekbones and beautiful face.   To Nathan she was an exquisite work of art, marred only by her negative mood.

He sighed.  His plan to propose to her last night was cut short when they had an argument over today's attendance.  Avery didn't want to come at all, which was ridiculous.  No Caelan had ever voluntarily missed the annual event. 

Nathan understood her point, though he did not agree.  Ever since their leadership had shown increasing signs of anger, the sense of doubt had grown stronger among everyone.  Doubt which not only jeopardized the mission here, but risked significant exposure of their identity. 

Anger was an emotion that confused Nathan.  His people had overcome it a long time ago—long before their discovery of Earth.  The Caelans were completely peaceful, knowing and understanding anger, but not feeling it.  Occurrences of irritation and annoyance were easily dealt with, resulting in emotional stability, peace, and harmony with those around them. 

Until recently.

Some blame the untimely death of Regulus Lafaye's wife as the reason for their rising anger.  She was tragically killed in a car accident.  Horrifying—surely—but that was only a year ago, and Nathan had seen signs of anger in others well before that.  It would no doubt be discussed today, though their predictable response would only add to existing frustration.  A waste of time, according to Avery.

If nothing else, he hoped it would all be put to rest today.

The Conventus was being held at the Roswell Harrington manor, once again sparing no expense.  It would be an all-day affair, beginning with opening speeches by their leadership and ending with a formal banquet in the evening.  The rest of the day would be filled with friendly collaboration, catching up with old friends, listening to talks on indigena progression, mystery chromosomes, news from home, and much more.

Nathan would never admit it, but he took pleasure in being fashionably late.  He enjoyed the spotlight, and if pressed would admit that he loved the attention.  Even without Avery on his arm, he would be the center of much attention today due to his position as auxiliator.  An auxiliator had more freedom than most, not just as consult to the Regulus, but in assisting in all matters relating to the indigena.  He was an expert with people, both native as well as his own.  He was well versed in the ways of indigena and a master of discretion.  And there were not many things more important than blending in, here on Earth.

The cobblestone walkway led past an elaborate yard fountain, winding toward a group of well-dressed men who seemed to be verifying identities of those in attendance.  One of the men approached, seeming to recognize Nathan, although he did not drop his stern expression.

"Peace, all," Nathan said.

"Good morning," he responded.  "Fingernails, please."

Avery and Nathan took turns giving him their hands for a fingernail scan.