11

~Ali~

I leave the others in the dorm room ruminating through the dusty tomes, while I rush off to attend my small groups session in the early afternoon, gingerly letting myself into the room five minutes after the start time following a promising lead that turned out to be nothing more than the name of another passed away Elder. I remain distracted through the entire hour session and excuse myself early, heading back as quickly as I can, eager to be doing something practically productive.

Jaz is learning over Jack's shoulder, discussing a paragraph of text together before dismissing it and turning the page with a dry, crunching sound as I silently let myself back in. I can feel the heat in my cheeks sting my skin as I close myself into the warm room, red-faced from taking the stairs two at a time when the elevator wound its way through the floors too slowly for my patience to tolerate. I fling my bag into the cupboard and quickly shut the door on it before it can tumble back out. I shed my coat over the couch and move towards the book sitting closed several pages further in than when I had been here an hour previously. And then the book is snatched beneath my grasp, disappearing in a blur from the mattress as I reach for it.

Rolling my eyes, I give Ethan my best glare as he waves the text above my head, teasing me with its vitreous pages. His guilty smile is daringly obnoxious yet oddly infectious and I find myself laughing irritatedly as I swing my arms in the air, grappling for the book, careful not to knock it out of his hold.

"Reckon I could have that back sometime, Ethan? You see, I sort of need it." My light sarcasm makes his smile blossom across his face, his pointed cheekbones like arrows diverting all attention to his faceted eyes. My heart flops weakly in my chest like a wet sponge, ever soaking up more of his beauty into my collection of secret memories.

"Hmm..." He purses his lips as he rubs his gently stubbled chin thoughtfully, propping the book off to the side. "Well, I could never just give you the book back, but I suppose I would be willing to consider a trade." His aloof tone brings a brief giggle from me, which in turns elicits a childlike joy from his features.

"A trade?" I muse. "And what could an angel possibly want from a mortal?"

"That entirely depends on what the mortal has to offer."

"Maybe some crucial life lessons on social etiquette!" I bark and lunge again, hoping that our moment of conversation was enough to distract him momentarily. He shifts the position of the book to his other hand and I am left groping the air once again.

"Why, I am wounded by your words!" The candescence in his eyes reminds me of lightly whisked clouds, gently floating through the silver forks of his irises. The gravity of his smile has my heart helplessly drawn towards him, like he were the burning sun and I a cold and distant planet, inexplicably falling into the chasm of his pull. The manner of the feeling has my hand fluttering to my chest, landing over my heart as if caging it in place, afraid to set it free. I imagine the sound my heart would make as it rattles against its constraints.

Slowly, like the approach of a faraway storm, the clouds in his eyes condense and shadow, swirling around the mountain summit of his pupils. His mouth opens as if he is going to say something but Jaz's whining has the skies of his eyes clearing.

"Nap-time! I want - no! I need sleep." And just like that the book is back in my grasp, cold and heavy as Ethan smiles lightly, dismissively, and walks back to his own reading. My insatiable desire to dissect the book further dissipates as the mattress springs sing under Jaz's weight, the iron frame squeaking as she punches air into her flattened pillow. I slip the closed book onto my bedside table and clamber into my own bed fully clothed, suddenly too tired to concentrate.

"Wake us up in an hour!" Jaz sings, then her head hits the pillow and she is silent.

Before the thought of removing at least my shoes even enters my mind, a warm hand curves around the back of my calf, lifting my left leg into the air and loosening my laces. Ethan's hair flops over his forehead as he concentrates on removing my shoes one at a time, carefully placing each one beside my ladder at the bottom.

Distantly I hear Jaz grumble into her pillow, finally settling down into rest. But here, my eyes are transfixed by the elegant curves of Ethan's fingers as he unthreads my quickly constructed bows. Seconds later I only find a pair of socks on my feet and feel the thin duvet being straightened out over my legs. I pull the cover up my torso and snuggle into the warmth, suddenly overcome by drowsiness.

"Thanks, Ethan." I sigh in appreciation, stretching my unrestrained toes under the blanket as my eyelids lull closed. The sound of Ethan's footsteps take him away but he leaves behind the ghosts of his touch.

***

~Ali~

A little over an hour later and my dreamless sleep comes to an end. In the branch between consciousness and unconsciousness, I briefly imagine how it would feel to be awoken by a foreign hand gently sailing over my cheek, smoothing away the waves of hair that have spilled over my sleep-pouty face, reeling me back into reality. The hand would trace the faint lines of my face, over my arched brow, curving around my eye, dipping into the hollow of my cheek and cresting the soft rise of my chin. But as consciousness takes firmer hold, I faintly realise that it is happening to me and my eyelids flutter open hesitantly.

Ethan's golden complexion and startling ocean eyes slowly wink into focus, the soft outside light blurred behind him like a halo as his fingers lift from my chin. He smiles goofily and steps away as I push myself upwards. I gather my bearings, letting the cloudy film of sleep clear from my sight. Scratching at the side of my head, I give Ethan a thankful smile. Below me, Jack walks away and the bed jolts as Jaz shifts, awake.

I hook my foot onto the top rung of the ladder, my sock slippery on the metal pole and my balance tentative from drowsiness. Ethan appears in front of me, his hands gently grasping my waist and floating me down. Air seems to rush through my head, throwing me off kilter and Ethan steadies me on the floor, his fingers pressing gently into the soft curve of my waist as my legs strengthen beneath me. The foggy sensation lifts almost immediately and the heat of his hold burns through my skin.

We both step back at the same time, an uncanny reaction performed with perfect precision. But my mistake lies in our eye contact, undoubtably maintained by me as I remain unapologetically transfixed. I can see the hesitance in his gaze, reminding me that whatever is happening now, should not be. Guiltily, I drop my attention to the floor, unable to sustain the responsibility that comes with his contact.

Before I mumble some stupid phrase to break the silence, Jaz snatches me away, throwing me backwards onto her bed and taking the book with her, sitting upright with the text in her lap. I pull myself up sitting cross-legged, leaning against the unforgiving poles of the headboard.

A few minutes later, the boys relent to their reading too, flipping diligently through the word-laden pages, dust coughing out from the creases. Jaz and I turn and read page after page of the thick book with nothing. Nada. Zilch. The only thing I am getting from it is a headache and a sore neck.

As the hour turns over and a steady throb settles behind my eyes, the lack of progress is dispiriting. But I keep reading, dragging my eyes over the letters, words, phrases and chunky paragraphs.

Nothing.

Still nothing.

And then more of nothing -

Wait, what? A chocking sound squawks from the back of my throat as I try to gasp and speak at the same time. Jaz side glances me but when I take a steadying breath and close my eyes she loses interest and continues reading her page. I rub my eyes hard, forcing slashes of colour to streak my vision before I open them and dart my gaze over the passage again to make sure my mind is reading what my eyes are seeing.

"Everyone stop! Stop stop stop!" I howl, plucking the book from between Jaz and I, rolling out of the bed onto the floor with a hard thud. Everyone is circling me in seconds - faces hopeful, nervous.

"It-It's about an Elder," I start numbly, desperate, buzzing - so many conflicting emotions carbonating my veins that I feel like they might just explode. I calm myself, rereading the passage and following the words with a shaking finger. "Her name is Thessaly. It says here she is half woman, half snow-leopard. She was last seen ninety-six years ago, prowling through the Ural Mountains in Russia - peak Kolokolny to be specific," I spout, the words flying from my mouth as I paraphrase the most essential information I glean from the paragraph. "But we know nothing of this mountain range, it could be completely inaccessible -"

"- Way ahead of you!" Jaz is on her phone, tapping furiously at the glass screen, her face lit up blue as she holds it close to read. "Peak Kolokolny: 5,400 feet high - so tall but not impossible - located in the southern part of the mountain range. Huh, only accessible from the south as all other sides of the profile fall away steeply, particularly the northern tip. I have here coordinates for its location so we are able to pinpoint exactly which mountain to approach. Apart from that, not much is known about the mountain - it's not a popular climbing or tourist destination due to the difficulty to get to it." Jaz looks up from her reading feeling accomplished.

"Not to act rashly, but this is the best - and frankly, only - lead we have had. Our days are numbered and the journey will take time, so if we agree to do this, we should plan to leave as soon as possible." Ethan's voice is level and stable, the opposite to my harsh, quick-fire words. My heart pounds painfully. Russia...

Jack eyes Ethan carefully, his lips tight in thought. Then there is a tight nod. "Russia it is."

"That was easy," I affirm. "Wow, Russia. We need to pack! We need passports and money and I can try to find last minute plane tickets for us -"

"Ali," Ethan muses entertained. "You forget who we are." His smile is suggestive and boyish. "We angels," he emphasises, "can fly anywhere we want, whenever we want, for free." In a flash of white light, his grand pearly wings unfurl dramatically from his back, thick feathers shivering with power in the sunlight. He throws them out as high and wide as the room allows - which isn't much - but enough to make my breath stick. I try to downplay my reaction, hiding my breathlessness behind a small hitch of breath and an appreciative 'ooh', but the excitement cannot be detached from my voice.

"Are you serious!?" I whoop, staring eagerly at his colossal wings, almost blinding with their alabaster glow. Another pair sprout with a soft whooshing sound in my peripheral vision as Jack shakes out his wings, a salient bloom of light growing in the corner of my eye. But my eyes are transfixed on what I am convinced is the most magnificent pair I will ever witness, not matter what angel I encounter.

Okay, I know, I know. If I were a normal person, now would be about the time I should probably freak out a little. I mean, a man did just sprout wings from his shoulder blades. But strangely, panic is the furthest emotion from my mind. There is no fear, there is no foreboding or trepidation. There is simply an acknowledgement of their existence with a nod of my head. It just is. And I am filled with an envy for something I didn't know I wanted. A secret crave I bury within myself.

"Can... can I touch them?" I step forwards hesitantly, shyly. My voice is quiet and embarrassed. Taken by surprise it seems, Ethan nods slowly, the muscles in his shoulders flexing as my fingers stretch toward his feathers. His eyes flicker between my own and my advancing touch, then he turns around allowing me full access to roam his wings.

My fingers barely make contact with his skin as they ghost over the velvet skin of his bunched back where the main arching bone of the wing grows seamlessly from the smooth plate of his scapula, the pointed appendages jutting out through the pre-sliced slits in his t-shirt, which I failed to notice beforehand. My fingers follow the pattern of the downward facing feathers, running like water over the downy strands to the clean, pointed tips - sharp like steel but undeniably soft like silk. Each feather is thick and the barbs are plush, pulsing with a life and power of their own glowing from the translucent tube of the quill.

Bumps erupt over Ethan's polished arms, a tame shudder slithering down his spine. He is acting nervous like a virgin, as though no one has ever ran their fingers over his wings before, and I wonder, maybe they haven't. But I don't pry, something about the gentle gesture of exploring his wings too personal to discuss. I suddenly feel very out of my depth and pull away, bashful. Sensing I have stepped away, Ethan turns back around and addresses the room, his wings relaxing by his side, lowering and pulling backwards slightly as they sit neatly behind him.

"Who's ready to go to Russia?" His mouth quirks in a smile.