“I thought you had nothing to hide from me?” Propping my elbow on the arm of my chair, I lean my chin into my palm to stare at him, just like he did to me. I make sure to school my face, too, mustering the most impassive expression that I can. “Or was that just you trying to gain mytrust? Maybe to make your job a little easier?”
“I have nothing to hide aboutmyself,”he corrects me. “My employer is different. Those are not my secrets to tell.”
I sigh out my nose. What an inconvenient time for him to care about semantics. “Then what canyou tell me about yourself and your angelic origins?”
He takes a reluctant, long breath—seeming about as annoyed as I am. Good. I like being even. “How far back to the basics should I go?”
A scientific explanation for the beginning of time and space would be nice to hear from a celestial being, but I imagine that’s a bit out of the scope of this conversation.
“As far as you need. I have plenty of time,” I answer with a wave of my hand, indicating the liminal space we’re currently stuck in.
Dusk crosses his legs, and my eyes inadvertently slip to the silky fabric fitted tightly around his legs. An angel in joggers. It’s divinely unfair.
“Well, we have three Spheres, or Hierarchies, in the Kingdom of Angels,” he starts with a sigh, drawing my attention away from his superb calves. “But you really only need to worry about the one I’m in, the Third Sphere. It’s technically the lowest of the Spheres, though that’s only because we actually visit Earth, have individual personalities, and are the closest celestial beings to humans. In it, we also have a sub-classification of three Orders: principalities at the top, archangels in the middle, and other lower angels at the bottom. True archangels, like me, were created in Heaven, while lower angels were born.”
I’m openly suspicious. “Why don’t I need to worry about the other two hierarchies?”
“Because First Sphere angels are so mighty that they never leave Heaven, while the Second Sphere angels are more… forces of nature, let’s say, than they are personified beings.”
“And the Principalities? What of them?”
“Oh, right. They’re basically just special archangels that rule over certain realms. For example, there’s the Four Principalities of Earth, with Michael at the top of their diamond.” He rolls his eyes. “You can considerthat fuckerto be the most powerful being in the Third Sphere.”
“Isn’t Michael, like,thearchangel?The big one mentioned in the Bible?” I snort. “And you’re saying you don’t like him? Are you sure you’re not the devil?”
His responding laugh is dry and unpleased. “No. He’s just a massive dick.”
“I can’t imagine youthinking another angel is a dick when your ego is already big enough to fill every room you walk into.”
“If you think I’m bad, then I hope you never have the displeasure of knowing him.”
I scoff, blowing it off to return to the main subject. “So there’sgenuinely nothing special about the principalities, other than the fact they’re in charge?”
“I mean, they’re supposedly more powerful,” Dusk says with another roll of his eyes, air-quoting with his fingers. “But it’s really only a rank thing. For all intents and purposes, you can say the principalities are archangels. No need to call them anything else if you’re not specifically referring to their formal titles.”
I know my face betrays my skepticism as I take a sip from my glass. “Uh… sure. If you say so.”
“I don’t expect you to remember all of this immediately. I know it’s a lot to take in.”
He’s completely missed the meaning behind my expression. Again, my intelligence is insulted. “I was preparing to go to medical school, Dusk. Remembering an obscene amount of information at once is sort of my specialty.”
He studies me for a moment before responding in a gentle voice. “It’s a shame, then, that the world will not see your ambitions fulfilled.”
I grip the side of my armchair to steady myself. He’s all but said it—I’m not going to be able to finish my degree. It was all for nothing.
I’llneverbe a doctor.
My heart clenches and bleeds, rapidly washing out any desire I had to continue this conversation. The weight of my disappointment is crushing. Without a word, I recline my chair and curl up into it.
I blink, and somehow, hours have passed.
My head feels like a dead weight as I’m slowly woken by the food service. Even with the insomnia gone, I can’t seem to get enough sleep. My body hates the idea of being awake, as if it needs to constantly make up for five months of sleep deprivation. If it weren’t for the smell of food, I would probably pass right back out.
When the clattering wheels of the service cart signal its departure, I finally decide to drag myself back to the world of the living.
“What did you get?” I mumble, half-yawning, as I stretch out my stiff legs.
“I didn’t know what you wanted, so I ordered a bit ofeverything.”
