Angelology(88)

caves and gorges, sketches made during exploratory expeditions through the mountain ranges of

Europe—the Pyrenees in 1923, the Balkans in 1925, the Urals in 1930, and the Alps in 1936—along

with pages of script relating to the history of each mountain chain. I examined annotated texts and

bundles of lecture notes, commentaries and pedagogical guides. I looked at the title and date of each

of the works Dr. Raphael had produced, finding that he’d written even more books and folios than I

had imagined. And yet after I had opened and closed every one of Dr. Raphael’s texts, I had not found

the only one I hoped to read: The translation of Clematis’s journey to the cave of disobedient angels

was not in the Athenaeum.

Leaving the books scattered upon the table, I collapsed into the hard seat of a chair and tried to pull

myself out of the fog of disappointment that had fallen over me. As if defying my efforts, tears welled

up in my eyes, dissolving the dim Athenaeum into a wash of pale color. My ambition for advancement

consumed me. Uncertainty about my abilities, about my place in our school, and about the future

weighed heavily upon my mind. I wished my fate to be known, contracted, sealed, and set down so

that I might follow it dutifully. Above all else I wished for purpose and utility. The very notion that I

was not worthy of my calling, that I might be sent back to my parents in the countryside, or that I might

fail to secure a place among the scholars I admired filled me with dread.

Leaning upon the wooden table, I buried my face in my arms, closing my eyes and lapsing into a

momentary state of despair. I do not know how long I remained thus, but soon I sensed a movement in

the room, the slightest change in the texture of the air. My friend’s distinct perfume—an Oriental scent

of vanilla and labdanum—alerted me to Gabriella’s presence. I lifted my eyes and saw, through the

wash of tears, a blur of scarlet fabric so shiny it appeared a swath of inlaid rubies.

“What is the matter?” Gabriella said. The sheet of jeweled fabric transformed, once my vision

cleared, into a sleeveless bias-cut satin dress of such liquid beauty that I could do nothing but gape at

it. My obvious astonishment only irritated Gabriella. She slid into a chair opposite me, tossing a

beaded bag onto the table. A necklace of cut gemstones encircled her throat, and a pair of long black

opera gloves rose to her elbows, covering the scar on her forearm. The air in the Athenaeum had

grown cold, but Gabriella appeared unaffected by the chill—even with her thin, sleeveless gown and

transparent silk stockings her skin retained a glow of warmth while I had begun to shiver.

“Tell me, Celestine,” Gabriella said. “What has happened? Are you ill?”

“I am quite well,” I replied, composing myself as best I could. I was not used to being the object of

her scrutiny—in fact, she had taken no interest in me at all in the past weeks—and so, hoping to divert

attention from myself, I said, “You are going somewhere?”

“A party,” she said without meeting my eye, a clear indication that she would be meeting with her

lover.

“What kind of party?” I asked.

“It has nothing to do with our studies and would not interest you,” she said, ending all possibility of

further questioning. “But tell me: What are you doing here? Why are you so distraught?”

“I have been looking for a text.”

“Which one?”

“Something to help me with the geological tables I have been creating,” I said, knowing even as I

spoke that I sounded unconvincing.

Gabriella glanced beyond me at the books I had left upon the table and, seeing that they were all

written by Dr. Raphael Valko, guessed my objective. “Clematis’s journal isn’t circulated, Celestine.”

“I have just discovered this fact,” I said, wishing I had returned Dr. Raphael’s books to the crates.

“You should know that they would never keep such a text here in the open.”

“Then where is it?” I asked, my agitation growing by the second. “In Dr. Seraphina’s office? In the

vault?”

“Clematis’s account of the First Angelological Expedition contains very important information,”

Gabriella said, smiling with pleasure at her advantage. “Its location is a secret that only a very few

are allowed to know.”

“So you have read it?” I said, my jealousy at Gabriella’s access to restricted texts causing me to

lose all sense of caution. “How is it that you, who seem to care so little for our studies, have read

Clematis and I, who have dedicated everything to our cause, cannot so much as touch it?”