Finding Heathcliff

Forty-Nine

The room beyond the white door was circular and large, maybe as large as the Mirror Room where her uncle kept the Black Night Balls, Astrid mused.

She let her eyes slide across the bright, shiny floor, rise to the torches burning in the sconces set around the perimeter of the chamber high on the walls, under the small windows which didn't allow enough of the pearlescent light to seep in from the outside to banish the room's gloom. Then she looked to the narrow, stone balcony with a waist-high, elaborate balustrade that encompassed the chamber like a ring-- it was filled with black-clad figures, instead of the musicians it would accommodate if this was her uncle's castle.

Astrid gasped at the sight of the number of fallen angels who came to witness her audience with the archangel, there were scores of them, standing silent and motionless, looking eerie in the insufficient, moving light... Her head spun, the scent of their invisible burned wings was overpowering. And yet it was different from Azrael's; she would recognise his perfume among thousands of them...

"Don't think about them," Azrael muttered, squeezing her hand tighter and she could see a smile caused by her thoughts in his eyes as she looked at him, even as a low murmur spread through the ranks of the fallen angels, a reaction either to her thoughts, or their joined hands.

Azrael's head snapped towards the balcony then as if someone called him, making Astrid burn with curiosity if it was Evangeline speaking in his mind-- she could see her well among the others, one of the very few women, the most beautiful without any doubt... But then she saw another one of the angels shaking his arm out, a man she had seen before but could not recall his name, sending two doves flying towards Azrael.

Thank you, Camael, Azrael thought, welcoming the doves who cooed happily at the reunion with their master on his shoulder. Is there any news from outside?

Camael shrugged. Our problems, not yours. Safe return home to you. But the girl, Azrael, will suffer... We'll look after her for you as well as we can, but...

A sudden nervous commotion ran through the ranks of angels, disturbing their conversation, making Azrael turn his head towards the opposite wall where a door, as white as the walls and perfectly invisible until then, opened suddenly, allowing a great surge of dazzling light spill into the room, rendering the burning torches obsolete.

Astrid, who had been distracted by the two doves appearing on Azrael's shoulder, reminding her of her days in the castle long before anything of what had led her to being here today happened, turned fast towards the light, staggering on her feet as it blinded her.

Azrael wrapped his arm promptly around her waist, inviting her to lean into him for support. He didn't care what the archangel would say to this display of affection, he didn't want to be removed from her, he would not let it happen whatever it cost him.

Another wave of excited murmur followed his thoughts from the multitude of fallen angels; he didn't shield his thoughts about the girl from them, hoping for their support. As if it could change anything. The only thing that mattered now was the archangel's opinion. But not even he could do what Azrael wanted to ask of him, there were rules they all had to follow, and there was no reason why Michael should be tempted to change them for him, or for the demon regent's niece. Everyone knew how much Michael despised Arcturus; it was surprising that he agreed to meet the girl at all.

He felt her arm wrap around his waist and pulled her closer as the archangel stopped a few feet in front of them, looking scary in all his intimidating glory. Azrael could see that he wanted to make an impression on the human girl, the first human who was brought to Oblivis to speak to him, and he had succeeded-- Azrael could feel her tremble as she dared to look in his face once she got used to the light emanating from him.