My door is etched with an elaborate key eclipsed by a shooting star, clearly reducing me to my role in the prophecy. Across the hallway, Dusk’s door has the Greek symbol of a snake wrapping around a staff.The Rod of Asclepius.I recognize it because I know the Caduceus—which is the same thing, but with an extra snake—from its frequent representation of the medical field. If I remember correctly, though, this one represents Hermes, the messenger of the Gods.
The Key and The Messenger.
How ironically appropriate.
“I’ll walk you to dinner,” Dusk says over his shoulder while opening his door. “Meet you back out here at fifteen ‘til six.”
His door clicks shut before I get a chance to agree or refuse. With a huff of air out of my nose, I reach out to grasp my door handle—but I hesitate to turn it.
Despite Abaddon’s flair for the dramatics, I know I should say words of appreciation for his hospitality. He seems like the kind of person who expects gratitude. And if Dusk isn’t going to bother doing any damage control with our host, that leaves only me to keep us in his good graces… Besides, with him already showing so little value to my life, I’m not really in a position to be a problematic guest in his realm.
Reluctantly, I let go of the handle and turn to look up at him.
And he’s just standing there, deathly still, with his silver eyes already pinned on me. All of the words I planned to say fall flat off my tongue. I can’t tell if he’s looking straight through me, or into the essence of mysoul. Either way, it is unnerving.
After a few seconds of pregnant silence, Abaddon turns on his heels, his cape flowing out in the process, and starts walking away without another word.
Part of me wants to thank him now that I’m free from his piercing gaze, but the bigger part of me wants to run away from the uncomfortable encounter altogether.
The cowardly part of me wins.
After spending hours on the back of a camel, I’m more than eager for a hot shower and a bed to collapse on. Swearing to myself that I’ll be satisfied with those bare minimums, I open the door to my ‘accommodating’ room, and—oh.
The room is more than just accommodating.
It’s an apartment fit for a royal palace in Victorian-era England.
A pre-lit fire warms the hearth of the sitting room, casting a flickering light across the room that mingles with the soft glow of electric sconces and oil lamps. The sight overwhelms me. I thought I felt out of place in Dusk’s private jet, but I’m at a complete loss here. I feel like I need to have a title and an estate to have even been invited to stay somewhere this grandiose.
“Shower and a nap,” I remind myself. “That’s all I need.”
Opening up the door closest to me, I’m thrilled to find a bedroom with the most decadent king-sized bed I’ve ever seen in my life. The plush bedding and abundance of pillowssingto me, and for a brief moment, I have to stop and chastise my inner compulsion to jump into it. I reek of camel musk, and it’d be a damn shame if I were to foul up my sleep haven with that stench.
Thankfully, I find my luggage has already been delivered. It waits for me, neatly stacked in the corner of the room, like a small and welcome familiarity. I waste no time digging out my toiletries before wandering into the attached bathroom.
The first thing I notice is how awfully cold the marble floors are. Beautiful, but fucking freezing.
Then I go to town, embracing the bathroom like I’ve just become arich heiress overnight. If they want to treat me like a princess, I’m not complaining. I’ll gladly accept these perks in compensation for giving up my normal life to fight in their apocalypse war.
The shower in here could comfortably fit five people, the jetted tub another three. And the variety of different nozzles and settings in the shower, including an extremely realistic-feeling rain simulation, with the seemingly endless hot water supply? Simply to die for.
When I finally make it back into the bedroom, I don’t even bother shutting the black velvet drapes. Who could see me naked from here? The locusts? Having them catch a glimpse of my breasts is the least of my concerns. The thought alone is laughable.
Besides, overlooking the city of the Abyss is a grounding feeling. Quite literally, it reminds me that this expansive, complex city issomehowunderground. They have independent commerce, rivers, agriculture, government… even their very own artificial celestial body. It’s hard to believe I’m still on Earth, regardless of whether or not it’s in some weird metaphysical way that I can’t even begin to understand.
And, just to think—all of this was built for an intelligent, lethal species that I didn’t know existed a month ago. Hell, from my understanding, every other human on the planet has been completely blinded to the entire society that lives in the shadow of our civilization.
The population before me, already vast and unfathomable on its own, is only a piece of a much larger puzzle, too. The Abyss is onlyoneof the hidden cities. Dusk has mentioned one more—Elohim, he called it—but who knows how many there might be?
I need to sit down.
Leaving my spot at the window, I dig into my suitcase, looking for some lounge clothes to hold me over until dinner. I can hardly think straight for the war raging inside my head. Part of me feels like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be, but at the same time, I’m drowning in the overwhelming feeling of not belonging here.
Humanity, in general, does not belong here.
After slipping on the first comfortable set of clothes that I can find, I pull back the comforter of my new bed and crawl underneath it. And dear God, it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt.
I briefly regret putting clothes on, if only so I could feel more of the feathersoft embrace against my skin. Maybe I’ve just never had the highest quality of sheets before, but I wouldn’t be too surprised if this is some sort of special angel creation.
