Angelology(61)

walk, he put books in my hands, many of them theological. When I was fourteen, he arranged for my

studies in Paris, bringing me to the school by train for testing and then, once my scholarship had been

secured, to my new school. Together we had packed all my belongings in a wooden trunk that had

belonged to his mother. Later, when I discovered that my grandmother had aspired to study at the very

school I would attend, I understood that my destiny as an angelologist had been many years in the

making. As I set about locating my well-connected and tardy friend, I wondered at my willingness to

trade the life I’d led with my family. If Gabriella were not at our apartment, I would simply meet Dr.

Seraphina at the Athenaeum alone.

As I left my room, something in the large bathroom at the end of the hallway caught my eye. The

door was closed, but movement behind the frosted glass alerted me to a presence beyond. Gabriella

must have run a bath, an odd thing to do when she should have been at school. I could see the outline

of our large bathtub, which must have been filled to the top with hot water. Waves of steam rose

through the room, coating the glass of the door in a thick, milky fog. I heard Gabriella’s voice, and

although I found it odd that she would speak to herself, I believed her to be alone. I raised my hand to

knock, ready to alert Gabriella to my presence, when I saw a flash of scintillating gold. An enormous

figure passed behind the glass. I could not trust my vision, yet it seemed to me that the room was

filled with a soft light.

I drew closer and, endeavoring to understand the scene before me, pushed the door ajar. A mélange

of clothes had been scattered about the tile Hoor—a white linen skirt and a patterned rayon blouse

that I recognized as belonging to Gabriella. Twisted alongside my friend’s clothing I discerned a pair

of trousers, crumpled as a flour sack, clearly thrown aside in haste. It was obvious that Gabriella was

not alone. And yet I did not turn away. Instead I stepped even closer. Peering deeper into the room, I

exposed myself to a scene that shocked my senses so thoroughly that I could do nothing but watch in a

state of horrified awe.

At the far side of the bathroom, draped in a mist of steam, stood Gabriella, entwined in the arms of

a man. His skin was luminous white and appeared to me—so startled by his presence—to have an

unearthly glow. He had pressed Gabriella against the wall, as if he meant to crush her under his

weight, an act of domination that she did not attempt to repel. Indeed, her pale arms were wrapped

about his body, holding him.

I stole away from the bathroom, careful to mask my presence from Gabriella, and fled the

apartment. Upon returning to the academy, I spent some time wandering through the warren of halls,

attempting to recover my bearings before reporting to Dr. Seraphina Valko. The buildings filled many

blocks and were strung together by narrow corridors and underground passageways that gave the

school a shadowy irregularity that I found strangely soothing, as if the asymmetry echoed my state of

mind. There was little grandeur to the dwellings, and although our quarters were often unsuited to our

needs—the lecture halls were too small and the classrooms without proper heat—my absorption in

my work did much to distract me from these discomforts.

Walking past the dimmed, abandoned offices of the scholars who had already left the city, I tried to

understand the shock I felt at finding Gabriella with her lover. Aside from the fact that male guests

were restricted from visiting our apartments, there had been something disturbing about the man

himself, something eerie and abnormal that I could not fully identify. My inability to understand what I

had seen and the chaotic mix of loyalty and rivalry I felt toward Gabriella made it impossible to tell

Dr. Seraphina, although I knew in my heart that this was the correct path. Instead I pondered the

meaning of Gabriella’s actions. I speculated upon the moral dilemma her affair thrust upon me. I must

give Dr. Seraphina an account of what kept me, but what would I say? I could not very well betray

Gabriella’s secret. While she was my only friend, Gabriella Lévi-Franche was also my most ardent

rival.

In reality my anxieties were pointless. By the time I returned to Dr. Seraphina’s office, Gabriella

had arrived. She sat upon a Louis XIV chair, her appearance fresh, her demeanor calm, as if she had

spent the morning lounging in a shaded park reading Voltaire. She wore a bright green crepe de chine

dress, white silk stockings, and a heavy scent of Shalimar, her favorite perfume. When she greeted me

in her usual terse manner, kissing me perfunctorily on each cheek, I understood with relief that she