Blackridge Institute (wlw)

Chapter 9

"You came!"

Solomon had spent her entire evening at the front door. She was at a house party a distant colleague organized, one she had invited Casandra to. The angel's initial response was a cursory, Enjoy your evening.

Still, she had hoped Cas would turn up, hence her insistence at staying near the door. Frankly she didn't know when she would have given up—she might have stayed there all night—so she was happy Casandra arrived when she did.

Casandra was in a very nice overcoat, one she hadn't seen before, so she probably conjured it up for this. Solomon smiled at the thought of Cas preparing a special outfit.

"Am I late?" said the angel.

"Better late than never." Sol opened the door wider to let her in. Casandra stepped into the threshold and eyed the coat racks. After what looked to be a definite decision, she shrugged off her overcoat and hung it up. Cas had a shimmery blue short-sleeved shirt underneath, patterned with slices of lemons, which revealed her taste.

Her arms were bare. Solomon realized she had never seen Casandra's arms before; it felt illegal to look at them now.

Sol was staring, so she dragged her eyes away and let them both out of the hall. The congregation—which was apt word choice, because out of everyone at Blackridge, Sol was one of the younger ones; everyone was either middle-aged or way past it—greeted them as they entered.

"Trust Solomon to loop an angel into one of our sexy parties," said someone else.

"It's not a sexy party," she muttered to Casandra, before bantering with the first guy.

They moved to stake their claim on one of the many couches. She sat Casandra down. "Do you drink?"

"Not as a rule, no."

"Do you want to?"

Solomon knew for a fact that Casandra had never had alcohol before—they spoke about it in passing—but you wouldn't know it looking at her. The angel said, "I could try,"

"Just one though."

"For now," said Casandra, as a joke. Maybe.

Sol left her there, hoping no one hits on her while she was gone; these old people were brave. It was something she would like to see, actually—not as a fetish thing or whatever, but she was interested in how Cas would respond to flirting. Would she be flustered? Or did angel obliviousness come out on top?

She made them both drinks in the kitchen, taking care to weaken Casandra's just in case. As she poured a mixer in, she had a sudden thought: What if Cas didn't reject them?

Hurrying back into the living room before some cougar could take her spot, she was relieved to see Casandra sitting alone. But she was chatting to other people as they were trying to set up a karaoke machine.

Solomon approached and handed her a drink. "Appropriately citrusy. In honor of your shirt."

"Thank you." Casandra took it and sipped. She made no mention of the miniscule amount of alcohol, which just might be because Cas didn't know how much was usually normal.

Nevertheless, Cas seemed to take to the drink well. Sol asked for feedback. "Well?"

"Pleasant. It's doing something though, I know it."

"What, you have charts in your mind?"

"I think entirely in charts. That's a preference thing. But no, I'm attuned to my vessel more than the lot of you. It's sending signals, I just don't know what they mean."