22

~Ali~

I wake up slowly, my senses returning to my body one at a time. The foamy fragrance of pomegranates drifts through my nose, the first sense to reawaken. I spread my arms above my head and arch my back, bones popping satisfactorily into place. The warm duvet is scratchy and cheap under my fingertips.

For the life of me, I cannot remember any of the events that followed the flight. Embarrassment flares at the thought of having fallen asleep so deeply, carried here and put to bed by Ethan without my ever knowing.

Yet after a restful and uninterrupted sleep, energy laces my muscles again, clarity sharpening my  thoughts in a way that I hadn't realised I was previously lacking.

My eyes spring open, clear as the mountain water, watching the venetian blinds slice sharp lines across the outdated decor of the room. Pale green paint blocks out the walls, the small space dominated by the iron bed (clothed in peach coloured, floral bedding) and a free-standing cabinet, its door slightly open. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, the covers spilling onto the patterned carpet, the colours having faded with years of sunlight and ware.

A soft hiss rumbles around the room, steam curling under a door to my left. I push myself to a stand and touch the open door of the cabinet. It swings feebly on its hinges. Piled neatly on the middle shelf sits a freshly folded stack of clothing and my name scrawled across a business card balanced on the top.

Without protest, I slip out of yesterday's clothes and shimmy into the ripped boyfriend jeans awaiting me. A little big, the exaggerated rips hanging loose, but comfortable. I peel out of my shirt and silently thank whoever gathered this for the clean singlet and dark green, knitted jumper. Finally, a pair of well worn, second-hand canvas shoes are placed tidily at the bottom. As I pull the laces tight and strap my left shoe closed, a handle squeaks and the water shuts off.

Ethan strolls out of the bathroom moments later, steam gushing from the room behind him, bringing with it the sharp scent of pomegranates. Wrapped in nothing but a low hanging towel, not much is left to the imagination - whether this is a good thing or a bad thing is an entirely separate line of thought, and one that I do not wish to indulge myself in anytime soon.

When his azure gaze grasps my own, a smile breaks across his face at the aight of me awake and dressed. This projected smile is promptly followed by all my subsequent cranial activity ceasing at the sight. When my sedimented focus remains fixated on him, his glassy gaze turns turbulent with antagonistic emotions - too many for me to decipher in succession as they pass his eyes. But the intensity of his hold on me is indisputable. For a moment, I forget why I am crouched on the floor with my fingers in knots around my laces.

He takes a long stride forwards, his gait intrepid. My accelerating heart rate has nothing to do with the possibility of failure on our mission and everything to do with the oppressed nature of my desires.

I break the tension and throw my gaze out of the window, feigning utter interest in the movements of the outside world. He reads my evasion attempts like I am a children's picture book - of course he does, he is Ethan and this is me.

With a gentle touch, he reorients my face so he holds the gaze I was afraid to give him. The heat in his watching is the only warning of the inferno that could ensue. I push my shaky legs into a stand and lean against the cabinet.

His head dips, just barely, and I mortifyingly find mine doing the same in the opposite direction. And then something shifts in the air between us and Ethan has his eyes sealed tightly shut. He drags in a deep breath, I force myself to do the same, and when his eyes reopen, they have returned to their clarity and simplicity. He reaches his hand behind me and pulls out a small pile of clothes similar to my own. He promptly returns to the bathroom.

Bathing in my own embarrassment, I realise that Ethan was just trying to get past me to his clothes and I stood in his way like an idiot.

But that gaze, those foggy emotions, that head tilt... Did I imagine it all?

Before I have time to fret further, Ethan wanders back out of the bathroom, this time fully clothed and ready to go. His usual lively demeanour has returned and I search deep inside myself to resurface mine before he notices my being affected by something that likely occurred only in the deepest folds of my imagination.

"The others have already set off to the cafe across the road for some breakfast. Fancy something to eat?" He smiles at me over his shoulder, fiddling with something inside his pack.

"Breakfast sounds really good," I admit and at least that much is true. "I'm just going to jump in the shower first. I'll be quick." The idea of showering seems like a good one, a chance to wash away any of those immodest thoughts floating around my head. I snatch a towel from the end of the bed and disappear into the humid room.

The water is still warm from Ethan's use and it falls down my body in heavy sheets, pounding away at my skin, turning it soft and pink. For a moment I just focus on the feel of thousands of tiny water droplet streaking over my skin, smoothing back my hair, tickling the backs of my knees. If I close my eyes hard enough, I could almost convince myself I was at home.

I scrub myself clean with the slick amenities provided and ring my hair dry. I drag a comb through my hair, redress myself and enter the bedroom where Ethan waits, perched on the end of the bed.

"Okay, ready," I say, shaking out the wet strands of my hair and brushing them over my shoulder. My hair waves slightly as it dries.

Ethan flips the single lock on the door and pulls open the front door, stepping aside and gesturing for me to pass. I mumble a thank you as I step through, appreciating the gesture that I am not commonly granted in today's society.

With a lack of an elevator, I jog down the stairs at the end of the short hallway lined in a similar gaudy carpet to the room, reaching the ground floor in only a single flight. Ethan's steps echo in the concrete stairwell and he catches up quickly.

Ethan guides us out of the motel, past an empty reception desk and into a rain-slick street. A wooden panelled cafe with a home-painted sign sits snugly between a boxy postoffice and a 24-hour convenience store - none of the buildings are particularly large in this town, all squat with triangular roofs and scalloped edging.

We make our way across the empty road and I pick out the top of Jaz's burnished hair through the glare of the window - not a challenging task when the only other customers are an elderly man with his accompanying newspaper and a small family in the far corner.

A small cowbell rings above our heads as we enter and I slide into the brown leather booth beside Jaz. She sips eagerly at a thick strawberry milkshake and my tastebuds tingle at the sight. I fall right back out of the seat and seek out the counter to order myself its chocolate counterpart, and a banana flavoured one for Ethan, as per his request.

I return with two large metal cups in hand, thick paper straws poking out the top. The chatter is kept light hearted, steering clear from anything that could take a dark turn. It feels... normal. I almost forget why we are here.

"Where's Thessaly?" I chime in, noticing the extra space on the bench. Jaz picks at the pastry platter in the middle of the table.

"She said she needed to pop into the jewellers and that she wouldn't be long. A broken family heirloom or something like that." Jack shrugs and none of us question further.

When we slurp up the remnants of our drinks through the chunky straws, Jaz and I pick up the tab, rattling a small pouch of change we gathered, dropping the coins on the table.

Out in the bracing air, Jack surveys the single carriage main road cleaving through the mountain town.

"We should really be going. It's already..." The time is flashes in red digital numbers on the cross of the pharmacy sign, along with the chilling temperature. "Ten thirty-five, so time is waning."

I clasp my hands behind my back and rock on my heels. "I'm ready when you guys are." And Jaz nods agreement with me.

"Right. Then the girls can go back to the motel to collect the bags and check out, while we," Ethan steps up beside him, "will collect the rental car. We'll meet you back here in ten minutes."

I take the hotel room key from Ethan then jog back into the hotel across the road with Jaz. Jack and Ethan disappear off in the opposite direction toward the car rental yard.

We take the steps two at a time and I stare at the four doors in front of me. Unsure of which I emerged from earlier, I flip the silver disc hooked on the keyring and read the number three. Jaz unlocks the door beside ours and leaves the door open as she rummages around inside.

Unlocking the door, I snatch the loaded backpacks beside the bed, making sure the spherical compass is nestled inside. I sweep the room a final time, ensuring nothing is left behind and meet Jaz back out in the hallway with our bags strung around our shoulders.

The trip back down the stairs is slightly more taxing than before, the two heavy bags either side of me ensuring I engulf the entire stairway.

I have the room key ready, hooked around my finger, and ring the silver bell on the desk repeatedly until a greying man appears from behind a door, unimpressed. I sign the appropriate documentation and am refunded our small room deposit. By the time I have collected my bags from the floor, the receptionist has retreated to his office behind the door.

The car is pulled up beside the curb when we emerge, still running and chugging away. Ethan has one hand on the steering wheel, the other hand resting on the passenger seat as he talks to Thessaly positioned in the back.

Jack pushes open the passenger side door and meets us at the back of the car, lifting open the boot of the old Jeep and placing the bags inside. The boot slams shut and I yank on the dark metallic grey door handle, sliding into the middle seat, sandwiched between a snow leopard hybrid and a human that can't seem to sit still in her place as we take off.

We head downtown with the mountains in the rearview mirror, driving towards an abandoned dairy farm on the outskirts of a large farming town. The drive is long but the location should be safe from prying eyes, a difficult achievement when it seems people monopolise every inch of available land.

I watch pasture after pasture of minty wild grass blur through the window we carve through Russian countryside. Jaz rests the side of her head against the window, eyes closed and breathing slow, asleep. The babble of the news radio drowns out the din of the engine and I pay no heed to what is being said, larger issues present in my mind.

Some time passes before the highways dwindle to dirt roads. The tyres crunch along the loose grit and the front wheels dive in and out of disregarded potholes, causing our seatbelts to snap tight as we lurch forwards. Joyously, our time on this particular road is short lived and we skid to a stop outside of a dilapidated barn. Surrounded by hectares of unkempt, wilted pastures, this seems the perfect location to set off into the sky unnoticed.

We congregate a a few paces away from the car, surveying the area and scanning for activity. There is none. And it is here that Thessaly announces she will continue with us no further. The plan is that she will be responsible for returning the vehicle unnoticed, leaving the cash payment on the dashboard, and return to her mountain, unnoticed and unharmed.

Jaz and I comb through our packs, returning the few possessions Thessaly packed for herself in our bags. This time, we say our goodbyes and truly mean it.

Ethan opens the driver's door for Thessaly, allowing her to slide in and adjust the seat. The engine coughs to life and she winds down the window, slinging her arm along the open frame as a breeze disturbs her moonlight hair. I leave the others to collect baggage from the boot while I make my way towards her open window.

"Thank you. For everything, Thessaly. You've been... inconceivable and reached beyond your hospitable limits. We never would have come this far without you."

Thessaly remains silent, nodding with gratitude. The silence speaks for her, probably more effectively than any banal sentence, and for a moment I wonder if I even needed to say anything. As I make a move to wander away, Thessaly leans out the window and shrouds me in a hug.

She releases me as quickly as she appeared and as if she suddenly remembers something, she begins digging around her coat pocket. Silver glints in the pointed light as she toys with the object concealed in her palm.

"Listen, Ali, there is something else I learnt about the book. To erase the names of the Fallen listed inside, you have to open the book first, correct?" I nod, nervous at her obvious statement. "But the problem is that the book is locked - inaccessible."

"Well, if it's locked, then there is a key?" I voice my reasoning, linking the thoughts in my head, fighting my heart rate to maintain a steady pace. "We just have to find that first. It will delay us sometime, sure, but I suppose we have no choice. I wonder if any other Elders would know more about it, where to find the key?" I remember the glint of silver in Thessaly's hand and a hopeful, distant thought has me wondering if she already solved our problems.

"You don't understand. It is not a fabricated lock; there is no physical way of prying it open. The key we are looking for is in our voices; it's a verbal latch, that much I know. But no being, earthly or heavenly, knows the undoing words." My heart wilts in my chest closely followed by a surge of acute panic. Thessaly rests a reassuring hand on mine, which, unsurprisingly, does little to reassure me.

"The good news is that I have been lead to believe the key appears when it is most needed to a worthy adversary, and if The Throne be willing, this is of a most honourable cause. But it is also undocumented in all of human and angelic history alike, that any singular person has been voiced the unbinding words." I try to soothe the lump clogging my throat and will for my sweat glads to greatly reduce their hyperactivity. "I hate for my answer to be founded on historical gossip, but at this time it is the best I can do." She sighs, clearly disappointed in herself. I squeeze her hand, not completely reassuring, but supportive, and I back away from the car.

"It doesn't finish there." Thessaly's voice adopts another bought of severity, lowering deeper. Not knowing how many more of her revelations I can handle, I stay where I am. "Ali, mortals cannot, under any circumstances, touch even a page of The Book of Angels. The power within the book was never meant to be experienced by humans; the consequences could be catastrophically fatal for you and the texts. Ali, do you understand me? Do you child?"

"Y-yes, yes," I stammer, blinking away the sudden pressure in her gaze. "I-I understand. But... why?"

"Anyone lacking the purity of an immortal soul, including myself, and comes in contact with the holy pages will initiate the book's self-preservation mechanism. The entire book will combust into ashes, a process that is completely irreversible, even by The Throne's hand. This is not child's play anymore." Wooziness swamps my mind as I attempt to comprehend her warning.

"Y-yes. I hear you, I hear you. Don't touch the book. Got it," I repeat, imprinting the words into the flesh of my mind.

"Oh, and one more thing! I do apologise in keeping you, however, this is something I believe may prove helpful." She pauses and adjusts her rearview mirror until the other three are centralised in her vision, lounging in the long grasses behind the car, further condensing our four packs into just two. Pleased they are distracted, Thessaly keeps talking, quieter this time.

"Although I am Elder of Knowledge and History, I took the liberty of studying a second, minor specification when my friend was taken and I finally fled into hiding." A pause follows as Thessaly blinks away the dark memory. "He was the Elder of Supernatural Laws and  Metaphysical Materials. He dealt with a myriad of species from house elves to blood witches to water nymphs. We were very close," Thessaly's voice sticks for a moment, a subtle hitch I wonder if I imagined, but her glassy eyes confirm my suspicions and briefly I wonder how close they were. "I garnered information about his trade directly over the years, so I took it upon myself to teach myself the rest, so his speciality would not die with him.

"Anyway, what I am trying to get at is that over many years during my happenings with these enchanted creatures, I have learnt much more than I imagined I ever could have." She pulls her clasped hand free from the confines of her lap and reveals a necklace pooled in her fist. "With some help, I forged this locket for you using the precise alchemy of a necromancer. Don't mind the lustrousness of the chain, it's new."

And here I thought that I couldn't be stunned any further. Gingerly, I ghost a delicate finger over the lightly tarnished locket face, somehow afraid my touch might cause it to disintegrate. But it doesn't; it is cool and strong and smooth under my hand. As simple as the craftsmanship and deceptive lack of embellishment is, a deep dynamism radiates from within. My wandering fingertips tease the locket's opening and Thessaly lashes forward, stilling my movements with her padded hands.

"No!" She exclaims in a loud whisper, shielding the locket from my curious hands. "Do not open it here. I have wielded great power into it's body. If you open the locket, you unleash all of its detrimental potential. Time will freeze." No. Way! My eyes widen beyond belief and I clasp my hands back, worried they will accidentally knock the latch open. "But only for three minutes. Everything and everyone will simply be placed on stand-by. Let me correct myself; everything and everyone excluding the wearer and the angelic." Holy shit. Is now a good time to freak out?  "Clearly freezing time is not a healthy habit for the Universe to practice, so emergencies only, my dear. Emergencies only." She pats my clasped hands. "And there is only enough power in here for a single use before the source is entirely burnt out. Choose your moment carefully, if at all."

Thessaly takes the chain, loops it around my rigid neck and tucks it under my shirt, away from sight. It clinks with the black metal feather already hanging there. A fear of such capabilities crammed in that tiny space around my neck overwhelms me and I wince nervously. It feels heavy around my neck, the locket burning a hole through my breastplate.

Pulling back and placing both hands on the leather-clad steering wheel, she peels away from the farm with a shrill of the horn and the flash of a hand. All that is left is a curtain of yellow dust and the weight of the world hanging around my neck.

Jaz pulls me to our group and without even fully processing it, a bag is strapped to my front and we fly out of Russia, heading for the Philippines.