I might hate how much better they have it than my species.
They’re extraordinarily beautiful, can never die, have magical powers, fly, live in literal palaces… and they have probably been this way for as long as humanity has existed. Maybe even longer, if some Bible stories are less metaphorical than I initially thought.
At a minimum, the existence of mankind must have been one big observational study to them. The real question is whether or not they’rejustobserving us.
Dusk has designated missions, clearly. And somebody, whether that’s a person or entity, has to be giving him those missions. If I had to guess, I’d say it has something to do with that mysterious council of angelic authority he mentioned. And I highly doubt he’s the only angel—in a population that is apparently much larger than I assumed—who is getting said missions.
So, whether or not I know what it is, they have an agenda. And by being here, I’m serving it. Blindly, faithfully… Or, at least, that’s what I want them to believe.
I really just wanted a better chance to keep innocent people from suffering than I would have had sitting on my ass at home. My family and friends may not know it, but they’re counting on me to keep them safe during the end of the world. I’m just not really sure what I have to do to accomplish that.
Maybe opening the Abyss is the answer.
Maybe I need to destroy it instead.
Unleashing these devout killing machines is going to be a hell of a lot more consequential than I thought it’d be, and I have a limited amount of time to figure out my plan. If only one person can open the Abyss, and that person is me—andthe angels believe the key can just somehow reincarnate if I were to die—then, theoretically, they could decide thatkilling me is worth passing it on to a better candidate. After Abaddon’s display today, I wouldn’t put it past them.
I have to make myself indispensable, then. Somehow, I have to convince them that I am the right person to receive this power, even if I don’t believe it myself.
Which means I should probably start there.
I need to know why I, of all people, ended up with this power. Because it sure as hell isn’t my qualifications. Absolutely nothingabout me is more capable of fulfilling an ancient biblical prophecy than the next random person. If I were any worse at basic human functions, I might even be convinced that I’m meant to fail.
14
I’m woken by someone incessantly knocking on my bedroom door.
“It’s time for dinner, Dawn!” Dusk yells, muffled by the barrier. “Are you asleep or something? Hurry up!”
“Yes, I was asleep, you impatient angel,” I snap back, dragging myself out of bed. “Thanks for the wake-up call. Now give me a damn minute!”
I’m grouchy, but I don’t really blame him for rushing me. After going the whole day with only a granola bar to eat, my stomach is growling like a ferocious monster, and I’m so dizzy that my head hurts. Being presentable for dinner is the least of my concerns, so I throw on the first pair of jeans and clean shoes I can find in my bags, getting out the door in record time.
I find Dusk impatiently sitting on the table of my little sitting room, and stalk past him out the door. In a silent, hunger-fueled march, we retrace the route Abaddon showed us.
Within minutes, we’re opening the ornate wooden doors.
The room inside is a regal, grandiose dining hall. Its edges are resplendent with mirrors, chandeliers, and candelabras, while its heart contains a sleek, glistening table spanning the length of the room. Delicate crystal glasses and silver plates are set along the dark wood, all shimmering and flickering in the candlelight, while beautiful floral arrangements of dark red roses and white baby’s breath decorate the center.
“We shall eat here,” Abaddon’s low-rolling voice, passing from behind me, nearly gives me a heart attack. Paying no attention to the full-body flinch he just gave me, he walks to the far end of the table, pulling out the head seat for himself.
Dusk, on the other hand, raises his eyebrows with a cocky grin. “Jumpy, much?”
“Shut up,” I mutter. After a moment’s hesitation, I follow behind Abaddon.
The sparse company seems inadequate for all this grandeur. There must be two dozen seats here. Where the hell am I supposed to sit? Is it more or less polite to sit directly next to the King?
I glance over my shoulder, frowning when I see Dusk isn’t behind me. Trailing my gaze across the room, I find he’s gone around the opposite side of the table.
Reluctantly, I look to Abaddon.
His ghastly silver eyes are already staring at me, his face void of any and all emotion. Without a word, he raises a hand towards the seat next to him.
Only then does it sink in: I have to eat dinner with these two angels, who are both poorly hiding their hostility towards each other with impassiveness. If I weren’t starving, I’d politely decline and get the hell out of here.Expeditiously. But, unfortunately, I might faint if I tried that now, so I cautiously close the distance and sit down at the King’s side, across the table from Dusk.
As if sensing the perfect timing, servants immediately flitter in from the side doors.
I never thought I’d be happy to see locusts, especially not so soon after meeting them for the first time, but I’m grateful for the buffer. With efficient artfulness, they fill our glasses with water and wine, setting the stage for the meal without pause.
