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“I was only joking,” he said, favoring me with another smile. “But it is very kind of you to offer.” He extended one hand, sighing as a small pile of tinkling gold coins appeared in his palm. “If only we could make use of my talents here.”
I licked my lips as I stared at the treasure in his hand, already agreeing on the inside. “Really is a shame. That’s just pyrite, isn’t it? Fool’s gold. It’ll just disintegrate the moment it leaves your body.”
Raziel closed his fist, and the coins disappeared in a puff of dust. “Quite right. If only it were that simple.” He nodded in Florian’s direction. “It does seem as though your friend is doing better, however.”
I shrugged. “We’re working on it,” I said, remembering Florian’s burrito and setting it on the picnic table next to mine. “So, you were all smiles when you saw me coming. What’re you so happy about, anyway?”
With an ecstatic, exaggerated grin on his face, Raziel exhaled dramatically, dropping the nail file. It disappeared in a cloud of gold glitter. He planted his hands on his thighs, then beamed at me. “I am happy, Mason Albrecht, because I am seeing so much progress. With you, and with your friend. You summoned the Vestments thrice yesterday, did you not?”
I narrowed my eyes at him, even though he couldn’t see them through my shades. “How could you possibly know that?”
He placed a finger across his lips, still smiling. “I’ve been quietly keeping track of what goes in and out of the armories. You know, upstairs. Don’t worry, it’s our little secret.”
Raziel held out one hand, palm upwards. A pocket watch appeared there, glinting in the sunlight. I whipped my head around, checking for nearby normals who might have seen Raziel’s little act of prestidigitation.
“Will you keep it in your pants?” I hissed. “It’s hard enough hiding in plain sight without you giving everyone a show.”
He cleared his throat, his lips curling into the tiniest shadow of a frown. “I am merely demonstrating, Mason, the fact that I am capable of materializing objects as well. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
My eyes flitted from the pocket watch up to his face. “Well, yes. Except you’re producing all sorts of weird stuff. Nail files, fountain pens. That fob watch.”
Raziel closed his fingers, and the watch disappeared in another puff of gold. “Indeed, though my gifts differ somewhat. Our talents all differ, Mason. That’s what makes existence so curious, so interesting.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “I would have imagined that you’d be horrified by the thought of diversity. Isn’t everything supposed to be in order up there? Everything is uniform. Everything in its place.”
He waved an impatient hand. “Stereotypes. Bad publicity, that’s all it is. The gifts of the divine are as varied as those you might find in, say, human mages, as an example. Some are talented with controlling fire. Others might be able to bend the weather to their will. And your abilities are similarly unique. But you must keep in mind, Mason, that your gift is not simply limited to fetching objects from the armories upstairs.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t that the whole point of the Vestments? Snatching stuff I can borrow for a minute?”
“Perhaps,” Raziel said. “But there is more to it than that. As different as our talents are, very few of us celestials have anything quite resembling your power. You can borrow things from out of heaven, well and good. But what if you could make something out of nothing?”
I took a sip of my coffee, the inside of my head already building a slight ache over Raziel’s love for the obtuse. Angel of mysteries, right? “So what’s your point, exactly? I don’t think I understand.”
Raziel twisted around to fully face me, planting his hands on the table, almost smushing my burrito in the process.
“Remember your lineage, Mason. Your father was king of the fallen, of the Grigori. He had a greater touch of the divine, a predilection for rebellion, and free will, the desire to forge his own way. For that was how he fell, for choosing to love mankind. And those traits, and those faults, and his very blood, all of that was passed on to you, the day your father perished. Your greatest gift is your ability to walk your own path. And, should you venture to explore it, you may ye
t discover your latent knack for crafting and creating objects from out of the ethers. To truly make something out of nothing.”
I froze in my seat, the tempting smell of my burrito drifting away with the wind, the traces of bitter, burnt coffee in my mouth fading as a new excitement built in my body and pumped through my blood.
When I spoke, my words came so softly. “What exactly are you getting at, Raziel?”
“Creatio ex nihilo. To create something out of nothing. Only time will tell, but I believe that this can be the fullest extent of your gift, your very zenith.” Raziel folded his fingers together, leaning so close that his breath on my cheek made me shudder. “Mason Albrecht, princeling, son of Samyaza. You could make anything. What will you make of yourself?”
18
I chuckled uncertainly, watching Raziel’s face for signs of change. Was he being serious? The implications were massive. But more importantly, he’d said that word, the same one that Belphegor used. Princeling.
I’d never really thought of myself in that capacity. Sure, I knew who my father was, and the status he commanded among the fallen. But what did that entail? Was it just a title, or did it come with responsibilities? My fingernails dug into the wood of the picnic table, searching for splinters. Was I actual royalty?
My teeth worried at my bottom lip as I stared down at my unopened burrito. Huh. If I was royalty, then where the hell was all of my noble wealth? I frowned at Raziel.
“So where’s this kingly ransom, then? Where’s my inheritance?”
Raziel rolled his eyes and sighed. “Again with this. I just told you of the immense stores of power you – fine, to be fair, that you might potentially possess. And all you care about is wealth?”
I reached for my burrito, tearing at the foil wrapping. “You just don’t get it, do you? Humans need money to survive. It’s how things work on earth. You don’t need to eat or sleep or shower. All of that costs money.” I took my first bite, savoring the grease and salt of scrambled eggs and hash browns and crumbled sausage, but still throwing Raziel the scowl he deserved.
