Finding Heathcliff

Thirty-Six

"Where have they been until now?" Astrid asked, reaching out towards the birds perched on Azrael's shouder slowly, not wanting to scare them, caressing their white feathers with the tips of her fingers when they didn't fly off. Animals were still such a rarity to her. Her uncle didn't allow them in the castle, and she had only touched horses during her journey.

"I sent them for news to Jophiel before you arrived at Land's End."

"Is everything all right in Vega?" she asked, feeling suddenly anxious. She hadn't thought of it before, but it was possible that Orion had written more than two letters, bringing her uncle's men on Rigel's parents, and Jophiel and Stella... Or maybe a few of Uncle Arcturus' guards had followed their group to Vega without her knowledge, just like Izar and his men.

"Yes," Azrael said, and Astrid wasn't sure if he replied to her question or her thoughts. "They are all well, but several of Arcturus' men were seen in Vega over the last few days. It seems that they had followed you there but lost track of you once you took off with that... flying death trap," he said, shaking his head at her.

Ignoring his disapproval of hot air balloons, Astrid asked, "Are my uncle's men dangerous for the people of Vega? They are bound to find Rigel's parents eventually."

"No, Lady, you don't have to worry, Jophiel and a couple of our friends will keep an eye on them, and protect Rigel's parents should the need be."

Astrid forced a smile, nodding her head but not feeling entirely convinced. She would hate it if something happened to Rigel's family because of her-- Orion wanted to take her back home from Vega, and she refused; her uncle was probably furious about her disobedience now...

"How do you like my room?" Azrael asked suddenly, scattering her gloomy thoughts.

"Your room?" she asked, frowning, feeling that with every single thing he said, he only confused her more.

He chuckled, reading her thoughts.

"Yes, this is my room. A few of us stay with the people here so often that they insist on giving us rooms."

That's why the blankets smell like him, Astrid mused, soliciting a smug smile followed by another chuckle in response, which set her cheeks on fire. How could he affect her so, while he himself felt so removed and unaffected by her?

"So all of these books belong to you?" she enquired, nodding towards the tall bookcase shrouded in shadows. She stood up, wrapping one of the blankets around her, and not finding her shoes fast enough, she walked towards the bookcase barefoot, needing to create distance between them.

"Yes," he said, then added as if he couldn't help himself, laughter lurking in his voice, "Wuthering Heights is on the topmost shelf, on the right. But you should try reading something different for a change."

Don't say anything, she warned herself, deciding to pretend that he couldn't read every thought that passed through mind. Otherwise, she would never speak to him again, not when he knew about Heathcliff, it was... embarrassing. Heat flooded her cheeks again, even as he approached her, but to his credit, he dropped the subject of books, bringing her attention to a weird object sitting on one of the shelves.

"Is that a gramophone?" Astrid asked, touching the strange thing lightly, reverently. The large horn made of hard paper spreading above the sound box looked like an exotic flower; the thing was beautiful. She had read about gramophones but had never seen or heard one; her uncle kept musicians at his court. "Does it work? Make it play, please!" she begged, feeling like an excited child as her eyes met his, but she didn't care.

"Of course it works," he said, standing so close to her that his warm breath landing on her bare skin where the blanket she kept wrapped around her slipped off her shoulder, made her shiver. "And if you put your shoes on, I'll make it play for you. The floor is cold."

She rolled her eyes at him but made her way back towards the bed to find her shoes as she replied, "You always walk barefoot, but I can't, right? How fair is that?"

He laughed, the happy sound ricocheting off the walls of the cave, making Astrid's heart swell with joy. Somehow, she knew that he didn't laugh often.

"I guess I'll have to get a pair of shoes after all, I don't want to set a bad example for you, Lady."

"My name is Astrid," she said as she reached him again, bouncing on the balls of her feet with a childish excitement she could not suppress.

She watched him pull a case full of black disks made of a strange, shiny material from the bookcase, choosing one, arranging it on top of the sound box under a thing that looked like a thin, curved arm with a needle, then turning a handle fixed to the side of the gramophone, making it come to life with motion and sound.

"I know, Lady," he muttered, his voice so low that she couldn't hear it over the noise that the old gramophone was making. If he allowed himself to call her by her name, he wouldn't be able to let go of her anymore... Azrael studied the girl's profile while she observed the gramophone, burning with curiosity, perfectly unaware of his feelings. She was... perfect. And she didn't belong to him; he would never condemn her to a life spent with him. The girl deserved better, she deserved to become the queen who would replace Arcturus on the throne and cancel his evils. Their paths, joined by chance, would separate again as soon as he delivered her to Michael.

Astrid, expecting to hear the sort of music she knew from her uncle's monthly balls and official dinners, was taken aback by the sound issuing from the flower-shaped horn. It was incredibly complex and harmonious, happy, and full of life.

"What's it called?" she asked, her blue eyes filled with wonder as she looked at Azrael.

"Jazz, Lady," he said, smiling, lacing his arms behind his back to resist the urge to pull her into an embrace. It had been too long since he held her while she slept.

"No one can dance to this," she muttered, dropping her eyes back to the spinning black disk quickly, confused by the emotions lurking in Azrael's eyes. Astrid wished he... would wrap his arms around her; she yearned to feel his full lips on hers...

She took a step away from him, appalled by those wayward thoughts, even as he replied, "But of course they can. There's a dance called Charleston... " He accompanied his words by a few swift dance moves, dispersing the strange tension between them, making her laugh.

"I could never do that," she shook her head even as he lifted the needle from the disk, making the music stop.

"You should sleep, Lady, it's late. We need to get up in a few hours."

She nodded, walking back towards the bed. "Tell me about your place, Azrael. How is Oblivis?"

"It's dangerous, Lady, a place where we, fallen angels, were sent in punishment. It would be safer if you changed your mind and went back home instead, Ramiel and I could accompany you to Starling."

Astrid rolled her eyes at him in the semi-darkness, pulling the blankets up to her chin, feeling tempted to ask him to lay down next to her as if it was their normal routine.

She closed her eyes, forcing those thoughts from her mind as she said, "You know that I won't go back until I meet your archangel and make him sign a new treaty. Please take your cloak before you leave, you must be cold in that shirt."

"Good night, Lady," he muttered and through her half closed eyelids she saw him wrapping the cloak over his shoulders, then turning around in search of his doves who, as if obeying an unspoken order, landed on his arm again before he moved in the direction of the curtain.

"Azrael," Astrid whispered, her sleep-muddled thoughts making their way to her lips without her permission as she inhaled the perfume trapped within the blankets, "your scent of burning incense..."

Smiling, he replied without looking at her, "Not now, Lady. It's a long story."

"Then tell me what's your favourite book."

"The Book Thief," he said without hesitation, picking up his bow, then vanishing through the black curtain, doves, and all.

It took Astrid only a couple of heartbeats to recall the book he named and let its plot carry her towards sleep. It was a story narrated by Death who roamed the world of humans during the World War II, meeting a young, blonde girl who fascinated him beyond measure, a girl who loved books more than anything...