Archon(35)

He was gazing back at her carefully, and she knew something mysterious depended on her answer.

“Not really,” she said, watching his reaction.

But that was before she turned to the last set of pages, a mess of symbols that she certainly recognized from somewhere. The sharp lines, the forked scripting, tugged at her memories, and then she read the translation on the opposite page.

I was stamped with the seal of perfection, complete wisdom and perfect beauty. In Eden the Garden of God, I was, and every precious stone was my covering . . .





“Hold on,” Angela whispered, almost more to herself than to Kim. “I do know this.”

She continued reading but the light dimmed and the walls could have been closing in on her. Before another minute had passed, she slammed the book shut. The moment the cover glimmered back at her, the candles seemed to gutter back to their former brightness.

“It’s talking about the Devil.”

Kim nodded. “And how do you feel about what you read?”

“Feel? I don’t see how any of this can help me—”

“We’re starting at the beginning, Angela. You know nothing about angels so I’m testing your knowledge with one of the most . . . infamous.” For the first time she noticed he was tugging at an iron cross necklace that hung against his chest. A gem had been set in the cross’s center, its surface smooth and red. “Remember, the Devil was once an angel, and even if no one else remembers that—she does.”

“The Devil is a woman?”

“And perhaps a misunderstood one.”

“You can’t be serious.” Angela left her seat, but only to lean against the table, trying to think.

“I can’t be serious about what?” he said, standing with her. “The idea of her being a woman or—”

“Both.”

“Angela,” he said, gently turning her head by the chin, “look at me.”

The moment she did, it felt like a mistake. He was obviously attracted to her, she was attracted to him, even if for the most selfish and superficial reasons, and now that they were acknowledging that without a sound, she also knew there was no use ignoring it. Usually, this kind of desire came and left her just as fast, dissipating whenever she stole a glance at one of her paintings. But with Kim, there was both excitement and a sense of safety. They barely knew each other, but Angela felt they had more in common than she realized, and she was curious to find out what those mysterious things were.

That, though, implied more time. And they had very little to spare.

He brushed strands of hair from her shoulders, fondling the tendrils left to him. “Have you ever thought about history, about how stories can be skewed one way or the other depending on who wins the war?”

“Maybe,” she said, allowing him to play with her tresses, remembering their moment together in that grimy alleyway. Would it be wrong to wish for more, even if it was just to spite Stephanie?

It’s not like she doesn’t deserve this.

“Then you can imagine how a story like this one has transformed over time. There are many versions of it, and I’ve read them all. But then I found out the truth that every version was based on, and the ideas I once had about angels, demons, and everything in between changed forever. Until that moment, I’d been lost, searching for a reason to go on with life. I was a lot like you, Angela. Reckless. Because there was no reason to be anything else.”

“It sounds like you have me figured out,” she said, only slightly peevish.

“I’m just calling it as I see it.” Kim took a deep breath, looking more melancholy than before. A strange dullness had washed out the light in his eyes again, much as it had while he sang hymns at the introductory ceremony. “So do you want to know why she fell from grace? Why she instigated her rebellion to begin with?”

This was easy. There was no way this element of the Devil’s story could have changed.

“Pride,” Angela said, also proud of herself for knowing the answer.

He turned to her and there was a soft smile spreading across his face. “Disillusionment.”

Angela had nothing to say. That one word implied so many things, the least of them being that Heaven hadn’t been what she’d hoped. Otherwise, what could make an angel disillusioned at all?

It almost changed everything, exactly as he’d said.

“So you have sympathy for the Devil.” Though she didn’t feel half as afraid of him for it as she should have, probably because she understood exactly how he felt. Angela’s life had been one grand series of tragedies from the very beginning. That would be enough for anyone to question the meaning behind life in the first place, or even the point of forging ahead. But that was where she also differed from everyone else, apparently, the Devil included. She attempted suicide because she had a hope.