Part XXXIII: Just Desserts
The scenery blended from that of the surface - moonlight, trees, dewy blades of grass to the familiar shadows and glowing foliage of the underworld, but Itachi scarcely took notice. His idyllic surroundings passed by in a blur as he moved automatically, returning to the underworld palace after a stay on the surface that had lasted longer than was the norm.
The wintry night had passed and the sun stretched its rays as it prepared to rise on the surface behind him. Despite the eons he had lived, the long and wearisome millennia of his existence, the events that had just transpired were like none other in his memory.
He had revealed his face to her. To Angelissa herself, the young mortal who could not so much as mention death without trembling, he had uncovered death's true face, knowing full well how cruel that was. It would be alright, he had told himself. If the sight of him broke her, Shisui could undo the adverse effects. At any rate, she would finally have the answers she sought. The answers for which she was throwing herself to ruin.
Only, she did not break.
She had fled. As was to be expected. The very instinct for survival, passed down from generation to generation leading back to the very first living mortal, ran strong in her veins. The impulse to flee from him was natural, a sign of a healthy mind. All the same, it had caused a wrenching sensation within him like nothing he had anticipated. For all that he had told himself she would respond precisely in that manner, he had dared to entertain a minute hope that it might not prove to be the case.
It was foolishness, he knew. To think that the nature of the relationship between them was anything other than a fleeting reprieve before he eventually swallowed her whole, tearing her soul from her body, and breaking her irreparably. It was the inevitable end to their story, as dictated by the Fates. Why, then, had he dared to think for those few moments by her side at the riverbank that he was not Death, but merely Itachi?
She had asked of him his preferences, his thoughts and feelings, and he, in turn, had pondered on them seriously before answering her honestly. It was the first time since childhood that he had been granted freedom from the role that had infringed upon his identity day by day for centuries until the two became inextricable. He was Death and Death was he. Somehow, for those few sacred moments by her side, she had looked at him with eyes devoid of fear. Had coaxed him out of that identity. Had granted him permission to stop being Death for a few, fleeting moments. Moments precious in their transience.
Her retreating back, her unsteady footsteps, stumbling in their haste, shattered that illusion mercilessly. Death was what he was. Death was who he was. Death was all that he was.
But then she had stopped. Turned on her heel. Met his eye. Returned to him.
What had compelled her to do so? The struggle itself had nearly killed her. It defied belief and all explanation. The way her brilliant hazel eyes had searched his. Searching, he had realized, for the part of him that wasn't death. A fruitless search. One he had abandoned long ago.
What had she found then, that had brought her into his arms? Only Angelissa herself could answer that question.
But she had seen something - something he himself had not. Offered him provisions, invited him into her home, spoken openly with him as if nothing untoward had transpired between them. As if they were - just as she had said - friends.
Something of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips at the notion. The delicious, sweet concoction she had offered him, the falling flurry of snow, dusting their surroundings, and her pleasant voice breaking the midnight silence - as crisp and clear as any herald of Olympus.
How had she come to accept him? Knowing what he was?
For all the answers he had provided her throughout the night, this question of his remained unanswered.
He recalled the way she had clung to her cup, the steam lifting into the night air, a blush on her cheeks as she tucked chestnut-brown hair behind her ear and conflicting emotions warred within those dazzling hazel eyes. The way those slender, slight fingers had felt, curled around his hand. The way she bit her lip, weighing her words before allowing them passage.
The way those soft, rosy lips had felt against his own -
"Thanatos."
The foreboding voice that boomed over the moonflower field separating Itachi from the speaker demanded obedience, demanded obeisance.
"Lord Cronus," Itachi answered with a deep nod. All traces of emotion vanished from his face, to be replaced with a mask of indifference concealing his inner self more surely than the gold-embroidered mask resting on the bridge of his nose.
"You are delayed in your return," Cronus noted, approaching the younger deity with confident strides. "I can not suspect what might have prevented you on the surface."
"Did you have need of me, my Lord?" Itachi answered politely. Although his words implied unwavering loyalty, his voice was even, unapologetic, devoid of the submissiveness that Cronus preferred.
"You and your cousin have been absent from clan meetings as of late. Pray tell, young Thanatos, what matters have taken precedence over clan matters that they thus occupy your time?" Cronus' dark tones were unhurried, intentional, heavy with a barely veiled threat.
"Lord Cronus is more aware of the ramifications of my role than I." Itachi answered, not lifting his eyes to meet the patriarch's gaze.
"Indeed," Cronus drawled. "As honored Death, you are often consigned to the surface realm and yet, I must admit I grow concerned, when not even your mother can inform me of your whereabouts."
Itachi's onyx eyes lifted from the midnight blue grass of the underworld to meet the dark and glittering eyes of the clan leader. He noted the smug expression on Cronus' lips, the spark of challenge in his narrowed eyes and Itachi felt his own jaw clench.
The implications of the odd statement hung in the air between them.
"I will inform my cousin," Itachi answered slowly. "We will not give our Leader further cause for complaint."
The smug expression dissipated, as if Cronus was disappointed Itachi had not taken the bait. With an arched brow of disdain, he turned away from the younger deity with an expression of disapproval.
"See to it you do not."
After Itachi had departed, Angel crawled into bed just after sunrise and attempted to get some sleep. She tossed and turned uncomfortably, staring anxiously at the walls and ceiling of her bedroom in an agitatedly restless state as the confounding events of the previous twenty-four hours replayed repeatedly in her mind.
Her overwhelmed thoughts spun turbulently as she tried to make sense of everything she'd discovered. About Salt not being human. About Itachi being the harbinger of death, the immortal responsible for the reaping of souls. About her perception of the world as she'd known it being rocked violently on its axis, tilted upside down entirely, leaving her feeling like the ground beneath her feet had been displaced and she was teetering on the edge of an endless, dizzying, head-spinning free-fall.
What anchor did she cling to, in this new existence and state of awareness into which she had been initiated by a god himself? Salt and Levi were a given, though the great remorse that plagued Angel over her recent treatment of them made her feel even greater intense shame at having ever taken their support for granted. It burned deeply within her chest, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. How could she have been so blind? So sightless and selfish and foolish as not to consider that Salt had simply been unable to tell her the truth for very valid reasons?
Why had that never even occurred to her? Had it been because Angel, herself, found it so straightforward to express her emotions with Salt, seemingly forgetting that her best friend always placed Angel's needs above her own? Surely the moment Salt had refused to give her answers, she ought to have suspected that something was seriously wrong?
How could she have been so stupid? It defied belief, now that Angel was seeing everything in hindsight with perfect clarity; that the only reason Salt had been unable to disclose anything to her was because Itachi had ruthlessly threatened to terminate her life.
Angel swallowed thickly, rolling onto her side. Itachi. Thanatos. The God of Death himself. He had passed judgement and exonerated her of her crimes, helping her to finally negotiate through her guilt over the homeless man's death - and yet merely thinking about Itachi caused a tumultuous storm of conflicting emotions to clash within her. She exhaled quietly, the shock of his real identity still fresh in her head. His hauntingly beautiful face drifted through her mind's eye, causing a distressing fluttering within the cage of her belly. She hated how her pulse immediately quickened merely thinking about him, about the way he had pulled her out from under the ice and cradled her close against his chest, draping his cloak over her to keep her warm. How he'd banished the cold from her body, soothed the distress of her nerves and erratic heartbeat with the briefest brush of his lips over her own. How he'd transported them to her balcony within seconds and how his dark eyes smouldered into hers, making her feel like her entire body was being set ablaze by the powerful intensity of that perceptive gaze.
She willed her body's response to settle and abate, willed herself to be rid of such emotions. They were wholly inappropriate, blasphemous, forbidden. Surely it was a sin for her to be drawn to him at all, now that she had discovered who he truly was. He was no mortal. He wasn't human. He was Death personified. There was no place for such misguided, futile and imprudent feelings to exist, now less than ever before, and Angel knew she had to somehow, someway suppress them, to crush them and quell such sentiments toward him until time surely relieved her of them entirely. If her mind knew it was hopeless, then surely her foolish heart would comply and relinquish any lingering attraction she felt to him.
She squeezed her eyes shut, burying her face into the lavender-scented duvet. It all made horrible sense, why she had always felt like that piercing, all-knowing gaze could peer into her very soul. Because he could. Itachi could probably read her like an open book. Gods were omnipotent, almighty after all. Angel groaned to herself in dismay, the immense mortification of her embarrassing, improper behaviour and disrespectful thoughts toward him resurfacing to torment her anew.
And yet, his behaviour confused her, set such a flurry of bewildered thoughts whirling riotously in her mind. His gentleness with her. His patience. The way he had remained quietly by her side, not once tiring of her questions, allowing her all the time she required to spend as many tears as she wished. How he had tucked a lock of her hair so tenderly behind her ear. Held her hand in his own. By his own admission, the significance of the time they'd spent together at the riverside had never been her assumption. Her witless heart once again skipped a beat. It was nothing, Angel insisted to herself, but a kindness on his part, surely. She couldn't possibly dare to think his actions stemmed from anything else. It was impossible, absurd, even, to entertain such wild notions. The gods looked kindly upon mortals out of mercy. That was all it had been. That was all it could ever be. She was surely nothing more than an ignorant, silly human child in his eyes, one caught up in unfortunate, supernatural events that a great god deemed it his own personal responsibility to settle.
He had firmly assured her that he was her protector, that his crows would continue to watch over her, and yet he had shown a startling lack of remorse for threatening Salt's life. The callousness of that fact, of how ready he seemingly was to dispose of someone Angel loved dearly filled her with a whisper of apprehension and didn't sit well with her conscience. She could trust him with her own safety, her life, of that she was certain. But the nonchalant air with which he treated her best friend deeply disturbed and troubled her. There was no doubt that Death was ruthless. After all, he terminated lives daily. She could never have envisaged that that was what Itachi had meant when he'd told her that he was 'duty-bound to end lives' - all the while threatening the safety of her own best friend's. Is that what happened when one displeased the deity of death? She bit her lower lip, plagued with an unshakeable dread.
Angel rolled onto her back once more, sighing deeply. A quick glance at the alarm clock on her bedside table revealed that it was only 07:12AM. Throwing an arm over her face to block out the morning light that filtered through the still-drawn curtains, she closed her eyes, willing herself to find rest, knowing it was what her body needed.
When sleep finally came, it was dreamless and brief.
Salt sputtered gracelessly, spewing tea all over the cherry wood table. At the irritated look of disapproval Levi shot her, she cast him an apologetic glance and reached hastily for a rag to wipe up the mess.
"A - a what?" she stammered, taken aback.
"A goddess," Angel repeated.
Following only a measly two hours of sleep, she had finally given up her futile efforts to find rest and risen to start her day, heading straight to the tea-shop to further discuss her newfound knowledge with Salt and Levi.
It was a quiet Monday, a couple hours before their lunch break, and Levi had offered to tend to the few customers that straggled in, allowing Angel and Salt to finally discuss at length all the secrets that had lingered far too long concealed between them, seated at the table nearest the service counter in the otherwise empty tea-shop.
"I've known you for almost five years now, and to think you never told me."
"Gods, Angel," Salt turned to her friend in shock, "I'm no such thing."
Levi observed the two of them over the edge of his newspaper. Angel had clearly been to see this reaper of sorts, and he was both concerned and morbidly curious over the recent developments.
"Are you going to deny it?" Angel raised a brow at her friend, confused, "When you know how obsessively I've studied greek mythology and even after Itachi confirmed it?"
"It isn't true!" Salt protested, bringing her hands up to her burning face, aghast, that Angel would choose to denote her as such. It felt as if lightning was poised to strike her if she did not make her true position incontestably clear immediately. Feeling Levi's inquisitive gaze on her, she turned to him as well, "It's not!"
"I mean, I suppose there is a certain degree of divinity that is responsible for my lifespan," she mumbled, her words tumbling over one another in her haste to set the accounts to right, "but I'm far from a goddess. Gods, Angel, whatever gave you that idea? How could you say such a thing?"
"You're a nymph of the underworld," Angel tried, lost. "Isn't that right?"
"It is," Salt confirmed.
"And Nymphs are minor nature goddesses."
"No! I mean, I suppose in your terms it would be defined that way, but… I'm nothing. Just a servant in the underworld. Utterly inconsequential. Really, Angel. I promise." Salt floundered, struggling to convey the truth of her situation.
"I mean, if you say so…" Angel relented, "But Itachi said I'm right."
Salt could not help but slap a hand to her forehead. It did not surprise her that Thanatos would likely have been disinclined to discuss her at any length and had chosen to leave explaining her true status to herself. And yet, he could have set that much clear, at least.
"Yes, I'm sure he did." Salt began, setting the rag aside and collecting herself. With a deep breath, she attempted to explain. "All things immortal or nearly-immortal share a degree of divinity, but they are by no means of equal standing. I was born from the shadows of the underworld and brought into Lord Thanatos' servitude from very early on. My standing in that realm is… fairly low, to be honest. That was how I was able to flee, because I was so insignificant."
Salt missed the way Levi's eyes flickered back to the fine print of his newspaper, a fire simmering low in those otherwise cool, grey irises.
"I'm sorry, Salt," Angel murmured quietly, reminded once again of the bitter past Salt had struggled so hard to escape.
"It's nothing to apologize for," Salt dismissed easily. "It's been this way forever."
Angel struggled to wrap her mind around this revelation. Salt had mentioned many times that she was a servant and Itachi was her "master" of sorts, but where did the distinction lie? Why was there such a huge discrepancy in the standing of a deity and a nymph? Both beings were awe-inspiring to her. Their very existence made her mind light up with reverent curiosity.
"That's why you knew so much about the greek Underworld," she theorized.
"Yeah, explored it for nearly a millennium. I dare say I might know a few places even some gods don't know." Salt smiled at her friend, trying to lighten the mood and glad to have put the concerning claim of goddesshood behind her.
"But what's the difference? Why do you have to be a servant? Is there a hierarchy for Itachi as well?" Angel pressed.
"Yes, there is," Salt began, trying to discern how best to concisely convey the complex hierarchical structure of the Underworld, "But Thanatos is at the top of that pecking order. He's the son of the king and queen of the Underworld. Heir-apparent to the throne. There is… another deity who, in fact, rules over the underworld… the unchallenged patriarch of the Uchiha clan, but… I haven't actually seen him that often. He definitely belongs to the upper echelons of society. This much is certain though, when Lord Erebus retires, Lord Thanatos will take over the throne." Salt mused, half to Angel, half to herself, recalling what she knew about Underworld politics.
"So, wait. Itachi is a… crown prince?" The implications were dizzying. Not only was Itachi a literal god, he was a prince among gods? How did she even register in his thoughts at all? How had she wound up having anything at all to do with someone so entirely out of her league? The mere thought of getting close to him in any capacity surely warranted an eternity in hell for her blasphemous thoughts.
"I… I need to sit down." Angel breathed, burying her head in her hands.
Salt blinked, "But… you're already seated, Angel."
"Right, right…" Angel answered mindlessly.
A god. A prince. Heir-apparent to the throne. If she had felt out of her depth before, that impression had now grown exponentially. How was she meant to speak to him? To address him? To even exist in his presence?
"Salt, I… oh, my God, the things I've said to him! Ugh. I want to shrivel up and die!" She turned anguished hazel eyes towards her friend and Salt smiled sympathetically, as she laid a reassuring hand on Angel's shoulder.
"I'm sure it's fine, Angel. He clearly has a soft spot for you, and he's never been very vindictive anyway. It isn't easy to offend him."
"Salt, please - there must be some kind of underworld etiquette. Rules on how to talk with him, what not to say, how to behave? Am I supposed to curtsy when I see him?"
Salt withdrew her hand anxiously, uncomfortably aware that she had to choose her words carefully. There was an endless amount of underworld etiquette, but Thanatos clearly liked Angel the way that she was and if Salt filled her head with that useless information and, as a result, Angel changed her behavior towards the enigmatic death deity… Salt swallowed. Doubtless, he would be furious with her.
"Well, those rules only apply to underworld creatures…" she evaded carefully.
"Please, Salt, I don't want to make a fool of myself anymore. You have to teach me! I've been calling him Itachi all this time! That's like… a personal name, right? Isn't that sacrilege? You never use it?" Angel blurted out one question after another, determined to make the most out of Salt's wealth of information.
Angel was socially competent. She always had been relatively popular among her peers, the one to plan the get-togethers, to diffuse difficult situations and deal with all sorts of people. Her friends had taken to calling her "The Diplomat" - a title she wasn't particularly fond of. In contrast, Salt had always been more reserved and even awkward in social situations, relying heavily on Angel to steer her in the right direction. To think that their roles were now so firmly reversed as Angel struggled to understand an entirely different society to the one she had grown up knowing.
"Should I also be calling him Lord Thanatos? Or is that too familiar? Great God of Death?" She rattled on anxiously.
"Heavens, no, Angel!" Salt lifted her hands in dismay. If Angel began calling Thanatos by his deity name rather than the personal one she had always been using, Salt had no doubt he would chalk it up to her influence and be after her head.
"I mean, he has given you his personal name and given you permission to use it. Refusing such a privilege is bad manners." She hoped she could talk Angel out of the terrible idea. "And reverting to his deity name after having always used his personal name can be interpreted in no other way than a snub."
"Oh," Angel's face fell at the thought, "I had no idea." There were so many pitfalls. So many mistakes she could make without being any the wiser. She was determined to do this right, but she was only a clueless human and that fact frustrated her.
"It's alright, don't worry about it. I'm sure he would never actually be upset with you." Salt reassured her.
"How can you say that?" Angel shook her head dubiously. "I'm just… a human, like anyone else. If he even threatened to kill you then it's only a matter of time until I do something sightless and stupid…"
Her concerns were real and yet, thinking back to the tenderness in his dark and forbidding eyes, she had to ask herself, was it possible for those gentle eyes to turn hard with fury? Was it possible for herself to end up on the receiving end of that wrath? He emanated cold power, iron-willed control and she felt it instinctively in his presence. He was like the surface of the ocean on a still day, calm and serene, but beneath those waters… danger lurked there. She knew it down to the marrow of her bones.
Salt waved a hand in dismissal, "You can't compare the two of us, Angel. He sees me as nothing more than a pesky servant who doesn't know when to shut up, but you…" Salt trailed off. What did Itachi see in Angel exactly? It was hard to say for sure, to put it into words she could be held accountable for, but this much was certain, Angel had captured his attention. And he didn't seem to have any intention of averting his gaze anytime soon.
"You're special to him, somehow." She confessed, lifting both hands in a surrendering gesture as if she, herself, was equally helpless to understand it.
"Salt!" Angel squeaked, mortified and appalled by the suggestion. The crown prince of gods? Having anything more than a passing curiosity for her? The idea was preposterous, surely. Blasphemous, even. "What are you saying? Don't go putting dangerous ideas in my head! What if I start believing that?"
Salt frowned, seeing how ill-at-ease her friend was. Despite the conversation she had shared with Thanatos, she seemed to have new questions and new concerns. Her fears were understandable. Her concerns rational. And yet, Thanatos was the one who had dragged her down in this confusing bog in the first place, weighing her further down with the impossible burden of knowledge of the underworld before her time, and forcing her to look upon the very face of death while still living. All of Angel's torment was a direct result of his command for secrecy and his inability to uncover the loathsome vermin behind this plot on her friend's life.
No, she would not allow for Angel to think she owed him anything. She would not allow Angel to linger in an illusion that she was inconsequential to him. That was a torment she did not deserve. He was the one in over his head and Angel had every right to know it, rather than second-guessing every word that spilled from her lips.
With a determined set of her mouth, Salt pushed away from the table and marched into the kitchen. Pulling open a drawer, she withdrew a folded-up piece of paper, hesitating only briefly, her eyes fixed on the pale blue lines running across the page's surface.
Angel had a right to know. If Thanatos wanted to punish Salt for it, whether by taking her life or any other means, he could do as he pleased. She would do as she pleased, as well.
She returned to the table and handed the page over to her friend.
"What's this?" Angel questioned, wiping her hands on a napkin to receive Salt's offering.
"Something you discarded. I thought a day might come where you might want to have it back," Salt spoke quietly as she watched Angel unfold the page.
"Oh!" Realization dawned and with it, a flood of memories came rushing back as she recognized Itachi's handwriting. Comfortable companionship sitting side by side at the riverbank as spring blossoms bloomed on the branches overhead. Itachi's elegant, ringed fingers curled around her pen as he wrote a few lines in ancient greek in her notebook. She had cherished the pen, often staring at it and daydreaming about what it had looked like in his hand. How simple things had seemed then. She had been ignorant and utterly infatuated with him. She could admit that in hindsight. How foolish she had been.
Angel smoothed out the page and allowed her eyes to follow the sweep of the elegant curves of the neat handwriting. She tried to recall which of the ancient greek words referred to which deity. There was Hypnos, and that must have been Hades. The word that meant "Thanatos" was unmistakably clear to her. The two lines beside that however, seeming to consist of multiple words, drew a blank from her. She could not assign any meaning to them at all.
She narrowed her eyes as she traced Itachi's handwriting with hesitant fingertips, trying to recall what he had translated to her.
"You can read this, right?" She lifted hazel eyes to Salt. "I can't remember what Itachi said these lines meant."
Salt scoffed, despite herself, "I doubt he ever translated those words to you at all."
"What?" Angel's confusion was apparent on her face as Salt pulled the page a bit closer to herself.
Salt pointed to the first word and followed along with her finger as she spoke. "Let it flower in the field, sage is the heart's command." She watched Angel's response carefully as she paused. The brunette seemed to be holding her breath, stunned to be confronted with poetry and not with the names of further deities.
"Quell your nature, this desire to hold it in your hand."
Angel blinked. Her heart seemed to be ready to burst out of her chest. Itachi had written poetry into her notebook? Why? What did it mean?
"I'm sorry," Angel began breathlessly, not sure she had heard correctly. "Could you repeat that?"
LIstening to the rhythmic words again, Angel's mind raced. Leaving a flower in the field? Not plucking it? What did that mean? Could it be referring to -
"It's you, Angel," Salt clarified. "You're the flower he was telling himself to leave well enough alone."
Her? The flower he'd wished to hold in his hand? Angel gaped at her in disbelief. It was ludicrous to even entertain such a thing.
She closed her mouth and then opened it again to respond, but it took several attempts before her shocked mind was able to articulate coherent speech.
"That's- that's impossible. What are you saying? You can't know that," she finally countered, even as her face flushed with embarrassment. The very thought of the interpretation being anything of the sort set her heart pounding unpleasantly within her chest, filled her with an agitation so intense she could barely stand to keep still. "That's- he would never-" she fumbled over her words, flustered. "Isn't it - couldn't it just be a saying from your world?"
"No, Angel. It isn't." Salt shook her head. "He composed these lines himself, and he wrote them in your notebook. They aren't about anyone else. He cares for you."
Angel's fingers trembled as she lifted the page. It was reminiscent of their entire situation. It would explain why he had chosen to put distance between them but at the same time, she simply couldn't bring herself to believe it. Itachi? Literal deity and heir-apparent to the throne, having something bordering on affection for her hopeless self? It was ridiculous. It defied reason. It was intoxicating.
No. It was a misunderstanding. It had to be.
Angel gulped and propped open her purse, pulling out a ball-point pen. "Would you say it one more time?" She questioned, pen poised to write down the words. Surely, if she contemplated over it long enough, the poem's true meaning would come to light.
Salt dictated the poem's translation to her once more, allowing Angel to write it down. Staring at the two lines, trying to interpret a meaning other than the one Salt had provided, Angel fell silent, deeply troubled.
"I need to think about this," she finally admitted quietly.
"Sure," Salt relented, realizing that it wasn't an easy concept to accept. "He might have his shortcomings, and he's as infuriating as any of the gods, but… he really does care about you. He's wise and patient and insightful. He's enduring and calm. As far as gods go… he's one of the best there is. As much as I hate to say it, you can trust him. Truly. He would never cause you harm."
Angel listened to her friend, warring emotions brimming in her hazel eyes. A part of her wanted to believe what Salt was saying, another part knew it was too far-fetched. An absolute impossibility.
"Even if you're still not sure about him, or where you stand with him, it's good to keep in mind that he's one of the most powerful deities in the three realms. Everyone fears him. He's the very best ally to have. That's why… I trust him, even if his orders don't always make sense to me."
She sighed, not really liking mentioning Thanatos in a positive light.
"Because I know, whatever he tells me to do, he says it with your best interests at heart. He knows more than any of us."
Angel listened, spellbound, to Salt's begrudging praise. Was this the very same Salt that had so adamantly insisted Angel stay away from Itachi? That he was a killer and a heartbreaker? Now, she was being encouraged to trust in him, to maintain her friendship with him. And yet, Angel was not as confused as she might have been. Salt's words rang true. They aligned with what Angel, herself, had seen from him.
The two girls fell into contemplative silence. Neither of them noticed the way Levi's gaze had fixed intently on Salt as she praised the enigmatic death god nor the frown that had settled on his face in the silence that followed.
At length, Angel cleared her throat. "So, this assignment-thing that he's having you do, can you tell me more about it? Like, will you die if you don't follow his orders or… how and when did all this start?"
Salt retold the story of Thanatos' appearance in the alleyway, his grim reminder of her place in the underworld, and the negotiation for her stay on the surface. She carefully left out his threats and how he had nearly made good on them by almost tearing her apart - literally. She had a feeling that would not help matters at all.
"It's not like I'm enslaved to him or something. I still have the free will to choose my actions. I just have to keep the repercussions in mind. Like, that day at the beach, for example… he had left me a way to contact him but I didn't realize it. So, I ended up not calling him when we were in trouble. He was pretty upset about that. That sort of thing."
Angel recalled what she had seen in her half-conscious state. Itachi hovering over her. Salt weeping miserably, pleading for Angel's life. Something akin to anger simmering in his eyes. Was that what had happened? Had he been displeased because Salt had been delayed in summoning him?
"Why didn't you know about it?" Angel asked. "Didn't he tell you?"
"Uh…" Salt laughed weakly, "He's not big on talking. I'm sure you know."
"Oh, yeah. I have the general idea," Angel returned with a bitter laugh herself, if anyone knew how tight-lipped Itachi could be, it was her. "But how is that your fault, then? If you didn't even know?"
Salt took another sip of her tea, unconcerned. "I guess he just thought I would figure it out."
Angel frowned. "That's… that's just not fair."
"Gods are never fair. They're pompous assholes." Salt dismissed, not caring who was listening. Even if Itachi somehow heard her, he likely already knew that was how she felt about things.
Angel blinked and gaped at her. "Salt! How can you just say that!" She whirled around to see if anyone had overheard her, but the tea shop was empty save for one elderly gentleman seated in a far corner.
"What if something happens to you?!" Angel furrowed her brow in concern.
Salt shrugged, "What are they going to do? Kill me? Doesn't make it any less true."
Angel clapped a hand to her mouth in shock. She turned to Levi, hoping he would somehow knock some sense into Salt, but was dismayed to find him buried in his newspaper, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Salt! I don't want you to get hurt! Please, be more careful with your words. What if they retaliate?! Especially if you don't think they're fair, you should be careful!"
Salt returned Angel's gaze evenly and sighed, "I walked on eggshells around them for eight hundred years. I honestly don't care anymore. If they have a problem with me, they can say it to my face. I don't believe divinity amounts to superiority anymore. That's a load of crap." She lifted her teacup and, finding it empty, replaced it with an irritated huff.
"If anything, Angel, you should stop being so careful. You owe him nothing. He's the one who owes you. Everything that's been happening in your life is an interference with his domain. He needs to figure it out and put a stop to it. You have every right to blame him for taking so long about it. For letting it get this far."
"Salt…" Angel stared at her friend wide-eyed, at an utter loss for words. "He's a god."
"So what?" Salt crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "That should mean he has things under control. Not that he gets leeway for all his screwups."
Angel's mouth opened and closed wordlessly as she gaped at Salt, perplexed.
"Salt…" she rubbed at her temples. "Please don't tell me that's how you talk to him, too." She shook her head, recalling that Itachi had threatened to end her friend's life, her discomfort over the matter crawling all over her again. For the first time, she was beginning to understand why Itachi seemed so disdainful of Salt. Why he seemed to have no care for her wellbeing whatsoever. With the offhand way Salt spoke, it was a wonder the raven-haired woman was still alive, at all.
Salt bit her lip. She wasn't quite so outspoken with Thanatos, but… she had more or less implied the same.
"Hey…" Angel said quietly, meeting her gaze directly. "It's not alright, what he threatened to do to you if you'd told me. I…" she swallowed, struggling to articulate the next sentence, because the very thought of it filled her with dread. "If he ever does that again, I want you to tell me. Okay?"
Salt was silent for a moment. Then she dismissed, "Don't worry about it, Angel. I can handle myself fine."
"Even so," Angel insisted seriously, reaching out to squeeze her hand, a fiercely protective flame burning in her hazel eyes as she continued, "I'd want to know."
"I understand," Salt reassured her, carefully avoiding actually agreeing to her demand. Thanatos was as likely to threaten her as he was to breathe, and although she knew it caused Angel concern, she had no intention of letting Angel get caught up in it.
Hastily she steered the subject elsewhere. "I'm sure you have more questions. Let's get them all out in the open."
With a sigh, Angel drew her hand back and pulled her latte towards herself, soothing her parched throat before they continued.
"Why did you want to kill Vetty? All these weird things happened after I took her in. How is she involved in all of this?"
"Right. Vetty." Salt folded her hands on the table. "Vetty is… well, she's what you would call a demon cat. She belongs to the underworld. That's why I was so concerned about you taking her in. As you can probably imagine, it's not good for a living person to be surrounded by underworld creatures and also… demon cats are known for their mischief."
"A… demon cat?" Angel's eyes widened in disbelief. She recalled Vetty's behavior when she had first taken her in. All the broken dishes, the insane event in the river, the scratches… In retrospect, it was a wonder Angel hadn't given up on her.
"After you took Vetty in, dangerous things kept happening to you. It was obvious to me that this demon cat wanted to drag you under and take you back to her world. I couldn't allow that to happen. She was trying to kill you and so, I had to kill her first."
Salt swallowed nervously, remembering how angry Angel had been, what a huge rift that had been in their relationship.
"But as it turned out, I couldn't kill Vetty. She is an immortal. She's somehow different from other underworld cats and I think, probably much older, too. There's something about her… she's very secretive."
"Secretive?" Angel whispered, stunned. "You mean you've spoken to Vetty? She can talk?"
"More like she spoke to me. When I visited your apartment that first time after our fight. She told me things about your situation. That was how I learned that… Well, that…" Salt trailed off, finding it difficult to say the words.
"What is it, Salt?" Angel found herself wringing her hands nervously under the table. Yet another revelation? She didn't know how many more she could take.
"Well, that there's someone watching you. Someone who wants to either kill or kidnap you and we don't know why. Those vortexes… they were probably trying to transport you to some other dimension. That's why Vetty made a blood-bond with you. She was trying to protect you from that fate, because you were kind to her."
"A what?"
Salt met Angel's confused gaze and realized what she had just said.
"Vetty made a what with me?"
"A blood-bond." Salt clarified determinedly. "Generally, it is forbidden for an immortal to seal one with a mortal, but Vetty did it anyway. Which goes to show how desperate she was. It's a linking of the blood stream, a union of lifespans. When performed in the underworld, it's something akin to a marriage, I guess."
"But… how? I didn't know anything about it?" Angel faltered.
"You cut your finger on the bowls she broke, didn't you? That was what she showed me. All she had to do was lap up that blood and it was done."
"I'm bound by blood to Vetty?" Angel repeated numbly. "What does that even mean?"
"Well, there are two main effects of the blood-bond. Firstly, the bonded can never be separated too far from each other. Since she consumed your blood but you had nothing to do with hers, if you go too far away from her, she's likely to be in pain and will be forced to follow. Secondly, the linking of lifespans. If you die, Vetty will die as well and vice-versa. Because she's an immortal though, you probably don't need to worry about that happening to you."
"What?" Angel's mouth hung open. "Wait. Okay. Okay, okay, okay…" she repeated numbly, struggling to grasp the fact that she was irrevocably bound by blood to a creature of the underworld which meant their very life-forces were tied. That that creature was the very same cat she had shared her home, her food, and even her bed with.
"But I never asked for that," she went on, alarmed. "What do you mean our life-forces are tied that way? I don't feel comfortable with that!"
"I warned you not to take her in," Salt sighed. "I never expected that she'd form a blood-bond with you. It's not exactly allowed."
"Not… allowed?" Angel echoed, blanching. "You mean… by where she came from? The underworld?"
"Right," Salt nodded. "But she's the one who initiated it without you knowing. And she's the reason you can see Thanatos and Hypnos at all. They're usually invisible to the human eye unless they intend to be seen."
Angel recalled how surprised the two of them had seemed when she had turned to look at them while trying to disentangle Vetty from her hair. Perhaps that was what had attracted their attention in the first place. That she had been able to see them.
"This is a lot," Angel surrendered, lifting her hands as a sign for Salt to stop. "I don't know how much more information I can take, right now."
Suddenly, she turned in her seat, facing Levi. "And what are you? A seraph? A satyr?"
Levi frowned and hit her over the head with his rolled-up newspaper. "A human. Like you, stupid."
"Really?" Angel pressed, narrowing her eyes at him as she rubbed her head. She turned back to Salt. "Is he? Really?"
Salt laughed at the exchange. "Yeah, he's as human as they come."
"Well, that makes one person who's what they seem to be." Angel sighed, turning her eyes pensively toward the large panel windows of the tea-shop. She watched the people outside on the street stroll by, preoccupied with their lives. With their normality.
Wistfulness tugged at her chest, born from the mourning of an ignorance, an innocence newly lost. She had been just like them once - up until the fateful day she had found a stray cat shivering in the pouring rain. Ever since then, her life had been turned upside down on its head, with one catastrophic event following the other. She had stumbled through them all, survived multiple near death experiences, lost herself and found herself hitting rock bottom until the culmination of months of anguish had inevitably led her to the very foundations of her reality being shattered. Her best friend was a nymph. Her pet cat was a demonic feline that had bound them by blood without Angel's knowledge or consent. The mysterious man she had been keeping company with at the river was the God of Death himself who had served as her guardian from the shadows, assigning his own crows to watch over her. They all hailed from an Underworld Angel had always believed belonged to ancient myths, to folklore and fiction. It was difficult to negotiate the new reality she found herself in, when everyone else around her - other than Salt and Levi - were completely oblivious to the truth about the world they lived in.
"Angel?" A gentle hand was laid upon her forearm.
"Hmm?" Still clutching the piece of paper containing the poem tightly in her hand, Angel blinked distractedly and turned her eyes back to her friend.
"Are you…" Salt hesitated, "really alright with all of this?"
Was she? Angel considered the earnest question. It was hard to pinpoint precisely what her sentiments were, when everything was still raw in her mind, when one shock after another kept revealing itself to her. She regarded Salt, reading the sincere concern in her friend's cinnamon brown eyes. It was difficult to believe that she wasn't an ordinary mortal, a fact that Angel was still coming to terms with. But she supposed she ought to have guessed as much from the start, given the strange, overly formal manner in which Salt had spoken to her back when they'd first met, and all her other quirks. Now, upon closer inspection, Angel could clearly discern that Salt radiated a presence that was somehow… otherworldly. In the proudness of the way she carried herself, and something in the uncommonness of her attractive features.
As she stared at her best friend, Angel reminded herself that it didn't matter to her what Salt was. It didn't matter that she'd concealed the truth of her identity from them for reasons Angel could completely understand - to remain hidden from the Underworld for as long as possible, and probably to protect her human friends, too. All that didn't mean a thing to Angel. It was who Salt was that had stamped a mark so deeply into her heart.
This was the very same steadfast, stubborn woman who had stuck by her through thick and thin. Ever since they'd first met, Salt had been Angel's confidante, her selfless rock, there for her through her darkest days when she'd broken down and been an emotional wreck, whenever she'd doubted herself, and on nights when she'd been unable to sleep, spending however many hours required on the phone or over at her apartment to cheer her best friend up.
Even after all of Angel's ill-judged attempts to push her away, Salt had still looked out for her, and Angel knew her efforts had nothing to do with the orders Itachi had given to her. Salt had done it out of love and devotion. She had always taken Salt's loyalty for granted. Looking at her now, Angel renewed her silent vow to never do so again.
She offered Salt a small smile and took her hand in hers. "Takes more than a few crazy, supernatural events to crack me, right?" Her voice wavered despite herself.
Salt nodded, and beamed back. "You're strong, Angel. I knew you'd pull through."
"Thanks to you," Angel squeezed her hand gratefully. Then, glancing back to the window, she added, "I don't know how everything fell apart so badly. For the longest time, I just felt so out of control, Salt. I almost lost everything. My life. Who I was. I even lost my job."
"Your job?" Salt blinked at her in surprise. "When?"
"A couple of months ago," Angel shrugged. "Well, I didn't lose it. I chose to walk out and quit."
Salt gasped. "You didn't! You always said you would one day but never did."
"I guess I was always too scared to do it before," Angel mused thoughtfully. "But on that last day, my asshole of a former boss humiliated me in front of the entire office, and… I don't know. It was like something just snapped in me and I couldn't take it anymore."
Salt's eyes widened. "What happened?"
"I gave him a piece of my mind and told him where he could stuff his stupid underpaid job. Then I got my belongings and just stormed out. He sent me a termination of contract notice within the hour."
"Oh, Angel…" Salt bit her lower lip. "I'm so sorry you lost your job."
"I'm not," Angel angled a wry smile at her. "The only thing I miss from that place is Adam and the two other colleagues I could stand. That's one decision I don't regret." She frowned, before adding, "Probably the only smart thing I did over the last few months."
"That's not true," Salt shook her head. "You're always smart."
Angel laughed uncomfortably in the face of her blind adoration. "Salt. I'm not. I've been ridiculous these last few months. It's alright to call me stupid. It's all I've been telling myself too, the last few days."
"I'd never call you stupid," Salt defended.
"Oi," a voice chipped in, and they looked up to find Levi, who set a plate containing freshly cooked omelettes in front of the girls. "Leaving your job without another lined up is stupid. You found one yet?" he intoned, as Salt took the tea-cups from the tray he held with a grateful smile.
"No," Angel admitted, sighing heavily. "I was job hunting, until my accident. And then I'd just gotten back on my feet when all this… stuff... hit." She ran her fingers stressfully through her wavy tresses. "I guess I've just been too distracted to sit and fill out application forms, lately."
"You've had a lot to take in," Salt agreed sympathetically.
"Thanks Levi," Angel looked down at her plate appreciatively. "This looks delicious."
He eyed her quietly for a moment, before questioning nonchalantly, "What about your rent?"
Salt's eyebrows rose. "Oh, that's right! How are you covering that? We have a free room downstairs, if you needed to-"
"No way," Angel interjected. "I'd never intrude on you guys like that. It's fine."
Levi turned away to return the empty tray behind the counter. Angel practically lived with them already - or had, until she and Salt had broken up. He already knew she'd be round often again to make up for lost time.
"Don't worry." The brunette assured them. "My dad's covered the next couple of months for me, until I find something. I'll work it out."
"Are you sure?" Salt asked anxiously. "If you need any help at all, you'd tell us, right?"
"I think you guys have done more than enough for me, already," Angel answered. "But yeah, I'm fine on rent. I just need to clear my head. Everything's just been so…" her voice trailed off. What could she say? Impossible? Insane? Surreal? It was an almost disembodying feeling, knowing that everything she'd believed had been real in the past, had been nothing more than an illusion.
Her vision was suddenly obstructed by fabric which was dumped unceremoniously over her head. Angel reached up automatically to pull it off, blinking down at the material in confusion when she discovered a neat white apron. Glancing up, she met Levi's cool grey-blue eyes.
"Levi…?" she questioned uncertainly.
"You start this weekend," he quipped with a curt nod of his head.
Angel's jaw dropped in astonishment. Had he just hired her on the spot? She could scarcely believe her ears. She glanced at Salt, who offered her an encouraging, reassuring smile, before returning her bewildered gaze to Levi, who had already turned away to clear another table.
"Levi…" she began, stunned by the unexpected gesture. "I couldn't possibly-"
"Oi," he retorted, his tone brusque, indicating that he wouldn't hear any objections over the matter. "It's already settled. Just until you find something else, got it?"
"I…" Angel shook her head, at a loss for words.
"Eight-thirty AM sharp, Saturday." He added sternly. "Don't be late."
Angel looked helplessly down at the apron in her hands. Tears welled in her eyes, and she swallowed back the sudden lump in her throat as smothering waves of emotion washed over her. Guilt. Remorse. Gratitude. Love. She was overcome by the unlimited depths of their thoughtfulness. Felt thoroughly undeserving of their kindness. How could they be so good to her, when she had been so terrible to them for so long?
"Oh, no, Angel," Salt leaned in toward her. "What's the matter? Are you crying?"
Levi's eyes briefly shifted to the brunette, and he scoffed. "Tch." She was being a sentimental, emotional mess, and he could see that his girlfriend's eyes were misting over with tears, too. It was like they'd never even been apart.
"No, I…" Angel got out, her voice clogged with emotion. "I just… you guys are the best."
"Finally found your brain, huh?" Levi remarked.
Angel released a choked laugh. "I deserve that."
Familiar arms wrapped comfortingly around her as Salt enveloped her in a hug.
I'll make it up to you both, Angel silently promised fiercely, returning her friend's embrace. Somehow, she would work to pay them back for everything they'd done for her, and Angel told herself she'd make sure she would repay them tenfold.
After thanking Salt for the evening lift home, Angel made her way back up to her apartment and immediately went to her bedroom to change into something more casual.
She mulled over the three days that had passed by in a blur since the events that had transpired on the frozen river as she pulled a warm, oversized cream sweater over her head, wincing as the knitted fabric caught in one of her gold-hooped earrings. The jumper's hem grazed halfway down her thighs and she paired it with matching shorts and cozy brown, knitted thigh-length socks before drawing her hair long back into a hastily bound, messy ponytail.
She'd spent most of the time at the tea-shop, catching up with Salt and Levi and whenever she'd been home, had pleaded with Vetty to speak to her - to no avail. She'd demanded explanations about the blood-bond, why Vetty had taken the liberty to initiate such a serious thing without Angel's consent, but her cat had been wholly unapologetic in demeanour, offering no response until Angel was forced to give up out of sheer frustration.
Angel had also repeatedly ignored Cain's incessant calls and messages. He was the very last person she felt like seeing or speaking to, the least of her priorities and someone she was quite content with not seeing for a very long time. Or ever again.
With a heavy sigh, she wandered into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pursing her lips as she considered what she ought to eat for supper. Her eyes rested on the frosted cupcakes she'd made the previous night. The stress of everything had turned her to consuming more sweet treats than she usually did before the winter holiday season, but she told herself that she thoroughly deserved them guilt-free. It was hardly a surprise that she'd taken to comfort eating given every taxing event she'd been through.
"I can't well have that for dinner," she muttered to herself, despite the temptation to binge on unhealthy food, and instead pulled out a selection of vegetables before retrieving two frozen, bread-coated haddock fillets from the freezer. Settling upon a healthy stir-fry with fish, she set to work washing and slicing up the vegetables, hitting play on the favourite tunes she'd saved onto her phone's music app.
The brush of warmth against her calves alerted her to Vetty's presence several minutes later. The cat meowed at her feet, blinking large, dark eyes at her. Angel paused as she sliced through the onions, and narrowed her eyes at the feline. A demon cat, which in retrospect really hadn't been all that much of a shock following the revelations of Itachi and Salt's respective identities. It wasn't like her life could possibly get any weirder.
"You want some fish, right? Well, it's frozen solid, let me cook it, first. Do you want it baked or fried?"
Vetty swished her tail, blinking silently up at her in response.
Angel released a heavy, exasperated sigh. "I don't get it," she complained once again, repeating the same words she'd had on the previous nights. "You can definitely talk, Salt said you can. Why won't you answer me?" When Vetty remained unresponsive, Angel scowled unhappily. "It's the least you can do for forming some creepy cult-like blood-bond with me without my permission. You know Vetty, my life was completely normal until you showed up in it." She tossed the diced onions and garlic into the heated frying pan, and continued to mumble, "Now I have monsters chasing me, a death god watching over me, I found out my best friend's an Underworld nymph."
Shaking her head, she added, "Anyway, you can communicate, Salt's told me all about you, and since she knows everything there is to know about the Underworld, you've really got no excuse to not-"
'Silly little nymph.' Came a contemptuous, sweet-toned voice in her mind. Angel froze and blinked in surprise. That… hadn't been her own thought. There was no other possible source, other than...
She glanced down at Vetty, stunned. "You…" she breathed in disbelief. "Did you just… talk to me?"
Vetty averted her head, lifting her nose snootily into the air, evidently displeased that she had let a few words slip unintentionally. Then she turned away, fluffy, majestic tail sweeping leisurely behind her and sauntered languidly out of the kitchen, clearly having no intention of partaking in any further conversation. Angel gaped after her a moment, then lowered the heat on the hob and rushed after the cat, wooden spoon still in her hand.
"Hey! Vetty!" she called, as the feline hopped onto the sofa in the living room. "I heard you! Oh my God. You can talk!" She grinned excitedly, delighted and eager to talk to her further. "Say something else. Go on."
Vetty merely yawned boredly and stretched out lazily on the couch. She stubbornly offered no further reply.
"Oh, come on!" Angel pleaded. "That's so unfair! What's it going to take to make you talk to me and explain why you-?" she broke off abruptly, when a sudden movement in the corner of her vision drew her attention to the balcony. She turned her head - only for her heart to somersault in her chest and leap violently into her throat.
"Oh…" she whispered, her lips parting in surprise.
Itachi had alighted outside her apartment, three days after she had last seen him when they'd talked the night away following the events that had unfolded at the frozen river. Angel gulped at the sight of him, her mouth suddenly feeling oddly dry, all thoughts of her talking cat scattering from her mind. He was masked once more, and his gaze immediately locked onto her from behind the other side of the glass.
Vetty purred, and it was an infuriatingly smug sound, as if she were conveying that her owner had other more immediate and urgent matters to attend to than trying to drag her into tedious discourse.
Angel blinked and directed a frustrated glare at her pet. "This isn't over," she hissed a promise at the thoroughly unrepentant cat, shaking her wooden spoon threateningly at her. It wasn't possible for cats to smirk, Angel thought to herself, and yet Vetty appeared to be doing something suspiciously close to that.
Then, realising how odd she had to look waving a wooden spoon with the God of Death himself awaiting her outside, she lowered her hand, self-consciously touched her free one to her hair, then turned, clearing her throat as she approached the balcony doors. They were slightly parted, to allow fresh air to enter the apartment - and because she had been leaving them open ever since the night he had been on her balcony last.
Her eyes fell upon his tall, magnificent form, drinking up the handsome, darkly-arresting sight of him in his formal attire, and she once more cursed the way her pulse immediately broke into a canter at the sight of him. She was relieved, in a way, that he was masked again. The intensity of his gaze was compelling enough with that gilded barrier in place between them.
She recalled Salt's advice with regards to how to address Itachi correctly. Her best friend had insisted that since she had been given his true name, and he clearly permitted its use, then it would be impolite to refuse to call him by it. And yet, even knowing that still felt like a blatant mark of disrespect to Angel. Here was a literal deity in all his immortal splendour and glory. She couldn't just act like they were casual friends anymore, when the hierarchy of status absolutely demanded otherwise, demanded that she acknowledge his rank and divinity. He wasn't just a god, but a crown-prince.
A crown-prince who had penned a poem to her in her own notebook.
Angel gulped, shoving the intruding thought out of her head as she felt her cheeks warm. There was no way she was going to dwell on that, or mention it, or even hint that she knew anything about it - even as the final line of the short couplet ran crystal-clearly through her mind, almost tauntingly, as if daring her to address it.
'Quell your nature, this desire to hold it in your hand.'
No, she ordered herself, horrified at her own thoughts. Don't you dare think of that now. He's waiting. Get a grip.
Coming to a stop by the doors, she pushed them further open, and offered him a tentative smile.
"Angelissa," he greeted, and she could barely suppress the shudder that shot down her spine at the delicious sound of that ever composed, rich, hypnotic baritone she'd spent so many months yearning to hear once more.
She exhaled, trying not to feel breathless in his presence, but it was difficult when his infuriatingly alluring dark eyes were fixed on her so attentively. Hadn't she always wished for precisely this? For him to look at her again? And wasn't that exactly what he was doing? But she'd desired that before she had discovered that he was a prince amongst gods and the heir-apparent to the Underworld itself. The phrase 'Be careful what you wish for' ran mockingly through her mind, and overcome with nerves, Angel found herself blurting out unthinkingly, "Good evening, your godship."
Her brain screeched to a standstill. Godship? Had she really just-? Had she said that out loud? She'd intended a polite 'your lordship', and yet-
Itachi blinked at her, something unreadable passing fleetingly across his unfathomable onyx irises, and a heavy silence ensued.
Oh my God, Angel thought to herself, blushing deeply in abject mortification. What the hell did I just say? Oh my God, I'm the world's biggest moron, kill me now.
Kill me now? Are you really thinking that with the actual God of Death standing on your balcony, you utterly idiotic, mindless little- Angel gulped. She couldn't shut up the inappropriate thoughts. She was a nervous wreck, and being so shamefully, embarrassedly transparent about it, she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. But there was no hiding from that steady, cool gaze. Her heart thundered against her rib-cage, and her mind raced with possible words she could say to salvage the situation - but he was the one to break the awkward silence.
"Lady Caelum," he murmured.
Angel's eyes widened in horror at the honorific that fell from his lips.
"O-oh, no!" she shook her hands, greatly flustered. "Please, I'm not a lady-! I mean, not in that way. You don't need to call me- you shouldn't be…" her voice trailed, when he tilted his head slightly, pointedly, conveying an unspoken message - and she suddenly understood what it was. He was silently inferring that there was no requirement or expectation for her to address him so formally - unless she intended and wished for the same treatment in kind.
"I'm sorry," she fumbled. "I just- I know that's your true name, and Salt told me that gods are never called their real names unless it's by family, so I thought it would be more respectful to- I mean if I-" Realising that she had inadvertently said something that could result in Itachi being displeased with her best friend, she hastily amended, "I mean, Salt totally told me to just keep calling you by your name, but I just thought you might prefer- I really didn't mean to offend you."
She bit her lower lip. You're rambling. Shut up, her mind snapped at her, desperately trying to save what pride and face it could by screaming at her to cease talking altogether. She anxiously noted the thin line his lips had formed, evidently displeased with her excuse. Or was he just irritated by her mention of Salt?
"I'm sorry," she repeated again thoughtlessly, before plastering his name on at the end in a miserable attempt to undo the damage. "Itachi."
She was suddenly overrun with the extremely tempting desire to beat her own head with the wooden spoon she carried in her hand. Would that knock some tact, decorum and sophistication into her, she wondered? Would it stop her from appearing a lumbering, bumbling buffoon in those perfect eyes?
"These doors are unlocked," he observed, smoothly steering the focus of the conversation in another direction.
Angel blinked, profoundly relieved to be discussing something else. "Yes. I left them open for fresh air."
Itachi was silent for a moment, his eyes flicking onto the doors. He was difficult - no, nigh on impossible to read, Angel thought to herself, his expression calm, aloof, betraying nothing of his inner thoughts. It was most unnerving.
"Do not leave them so," he instructed.
She hesitated before admitting, "I… thought I'd leave them open too, in case you stopped by." She didn't add that she had hoped he would, every day since she'd seen him last, how three days apart had already felt like too long a length of time.
"..." He angled a pointed, meaningful look at her. "They would be of no hindrance to me locked, Angelissa," he assured quietly, matter-of-factly.
"Right," she answered, immediately realising the ridiculousness of her reasoning. "Of course not."
Had she forgotten what he was? What were a measly set of doors to a mighty deity? She supposed he had the ability to pass right through them if he so wished. As if walls and barriers could keep Death himself out. As if anything could stop him. How else was no living soul able to elude and escape him at its designated hour?
The very thought was disconcerting. Her heart was pounding, and she desperately tried not to dwell on the fact that he could probably sense that, too.
The smell of overcooked onions then drifted to her nose, and she recalled that she'd left them unattended on the stove. "Please, come in," she invited. "I'm just making dinner."
Itachi followed her inside, locking the doors securely behind him as he entered. Angel was glad she'd decided to tidy her place up over the previous days, so he wouldn't think her a complete mess incapable of keeping house tidily. The staggering awareness that she had a god gracing her own humble home with his divine presence only served to intensify her nervousness. She was eager to return to her cooking, to have something else to focus her attention on other than him - even as she felt the unmistakable weight of his stare at her back as he joined her in the kitchen, leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest.
"...my heart refuses to forget you…"
The music streaming from her phone was an ill-timed song about unrequited love, and Angel stabbed viciously at the device with an index finger to cut the tune short, plunging the room into blessed silence, save for the gentle sizzling of the other vegetables she'd just deposited into the pan and the low hum of the oven containing the baking fish fillets. She felt heat pool into her cheeks. Was this what all their interactions would be like from then on? The thought filled her with horror and despair. Would she be reduced to a pathetic, jittery, apprehensive, clumsy and graceless mess of nerves in his presence? Would all their meetings be blighted by awkwardness and embarrassment on her part?
Angel couldn't stand it. She swallowed, urging herself to make conversation. She'd found it so easy and pleasant to speak to him before she'd known what and who he was. Why did that have to change now? Hadn't Salt advised her not to change a thing about her behaviour toward Itachi?
She bit her lower lip, knowing her unease stemmed from the fact that everything was still fresh and new in her mind. She simply needed time to adjust, to get used to it all, she reassured herself. Her reaction was completely normal, justified, and surely he understood and expected it. After all, it wasn't like one met a death deity every day. Humans were only meant to meet him at all at the very end of their existence. But she'd somehow wound up befriending Death, and had every right to be nervous, anxious and every other distressing thing she was feeling.
Thinking that way and keeping her back turned to him helped to calm her down enough to make polite conversation. "I hope you're well?" she offered.
Itachi regarded her silently, noting the tension that lined her slender, petite shoulders. It was to be expected, of course, that she would be somewhat unsettled in his company immediately following the disclosure of his true identity. It was for that precise reason that he had allowed several surface days to pass since his last visit, and yet he was sensible of the fact that Angelissa would doubtlessly require more time to grow accustomed to the new reality in which she found herself living.
"I am," he agreed, obliging her chosen route of discourse, the irony of her asking after his well-being given the turmoil her own mind had to be in not lost on him.
Conscious of the fact he was on his feet, Angel glanced back over her shoulder. For a moment she was struck by the sight of him standing there, tall and lordly, stationed within such a humble environment in all his imposing, darkly enchanting glory. It was outrageous. He looked thoroughly out of place in such a setting. He belonged to sprawling gardens and resplendent, exquisitely furnished palaces drawn from the most majestic of myths, not in such simple living quarters.
"Please, have a seat," she invited.
He nodded and stepped forward, elegantly drawing back a chair. Angel looked away, wondering if there was anything he did that wasn't graceful and flawless. Of course not, she told herself as she rinsed her hands in the sink. He was a god.
She heard a mewl and glanced back again over her shoulder to find that Vetty had wandered into the kitchen, and taken the bold liberty of hopping up into his lap, where she purred for him to show her affection.
"Vetty," Angel censured. "I don't think that's..."
Her voice trailed. Itachi's eyes had lowered and he had already lifted a ringed hand to pet the cat's soft dark fur, clearly having no qualms over Vetty's actions. Angel blinked at the endearing sight in surprise, then turned her attention back to the sweet potato she was about to slice. To think that back when they'd first met, Itachi had outright refused to pay any attention to the feline at all… how things had changed. So many things, she mused, turning her gaze back to the chopping board.
Itachi's eyes returned to consider her thoughtfully, watching as she busied herself with ordinary mortal activities. He had always had a soft-spot for humans, understanding, all too acutely, the transience and fragility of their lives which hung upon a literal thread. He recognised their struggles, their strife, the undeniable cycle to which they were all bound. They were born, they were raised, and they worked to live, made families and ambled along, navigating through and enduring hardships, losses and grief, and enjoying what precious joys the circumstances of their lives had to offer until came the time of their inevitable demise.
He was sympathetic to their plight, and yet their perseverance and the manner in which they threw themselves into every day, burning their brightest even knowing how brief their existences were, never failed to capture his admiration. They were resolute, resilient beings. And yet in all the aeons of his existence, never had a mortal caught his interest and held it with such persistence as the young woman he was contemplating at that very moment.
Angelissa was the very essence of life in spirit and in soul. Her eyes were forged from its colours, the vivid green of grass, the warm brown of earth, the mesmerising gold of the sun. He could not but watch her as she worked to prepare her own sustenance, finding the very simplicity of the act riveting in itself.
"And yourself?" he questioned, reasoning that perhaps he could assist in easing her discomfort if he returned her attempt at conversation. It was surely the least he could do. "How do you fare?"
"I'm fine, thank you," Angel answered politely, nodding a bit too enthusiastically as she sliced the potato into smaller chunks. As if vehemently trying to convince herself that she was, indeed, coping completely fine with talking to Death himself in her very own kitchen. "I've spoken to Salt a lot and she's really helped me make sense of things a lot more." She nodded at Vetty, curled snugly in his lap. "I know what Vetty is now, too, and about the blood bond thing - though she refuses to speak to me. I don't really know what her problem i-"
A stinging pain shot through her index finger, and Angel's head immediately whipped back around to find that she had accidentally sliced through her skin while foolishly averting her eyes away from the knife when chopping. She curled her finger reflexively, inwardly cursing herself. It was shallow, but she still needed to wash it out and to cover it with a plaster. How to find one without making him realise that she was quite possibly the clumsiest human to have ever lived in the history of clumsy, living humans?
Tossing the potato chunks into a saucepan to boil, she then moved to the sink and rinsed the knife, noting that the cut was actually deeper than she'd realised. Crimson splashed in the ceramic basin, and Angel bit her bottom lip, willing it to stop, her eyes darting for some tissue to hide the cut with. It was on the counter to her left, just by the fridge.
"Uh, sorry," she apologised distractedly. "I was saying that I don't know why Vetty won't talk to me. She just ignores me all the time, and acts like an ordinary cat, but I already know she's not a normal cat, so it makes no sense to me why she-" She felt fingers close around her left hand and turned her head in surprise to find Itachi standing beside her. She hadn't even heard him rise from his seat, his movements as noiseless as shadows.
His smoky, heavy-lashed eyes captured hers, their allure irresistible, and Angel couldn't tear her gaze from his. She was pinned in place by those beautiful eyes. The air seemed to catch in her throat entirely, and suddenly drawing in a breath felt like a terribly laborious task as he stood before her, close enough to set her heart racing to a faster beat.
She watched, speechless, as he wordlessly and gently uncurled her injured finger, and pressed the index finger and thumb of his right hand over it. Angel felt a pleasant warmth radiate from the point of contact, and when he pulled his hand away a moment later, she was astonished to discover that the wound had faded completely. She lifted it to her face, inspecting the healed skin in wide-eyed amazement. How had he even noticed that she'd cut herself at all? Her hazel eyes flew back to his, to find him watching her attentively, and to her horror, Angel felt a tremor run through her fingertips, her skin still tingling from where he had touched her.
He reached out, and took her hand in both of his. His palms were warm, smooth and large around her small one. She gulped, overcome with a fresh onslaught of nervousness. Suddenly, she couldn't form any words at all.
"Be at ease, Angelissa," he murmured softly.
She felt heat creep into her cheeks, and the familiar, pleasant sensation of her body relaxing as he soothed her nerves, stealing away the tension that plagued her. Once more, she marvelled at his effortless ability to read when she was in distress and to quell the effects of adrenaline on her body.
"I'm sorry," she apologised again, mortified beyond measure at the amount of times she was uttering the words. If he hadn't thought her an incompetent idiot before, then he surely had to, then. "I'm… clumsy."
Something about the way he looked at her seemed to compel her to divulge honestly, "And… a little nervous."
He waited for her to elaborate, and Angel was fully conscious of the fact that he still held her hand between his. Her eyes flicked down, as she continued with a short, embarrassed little laugh, "It's not everyday I have an actual god standing in my kitchen."
"Angelissa," his voice drew her eyes back up to his. "You have nothing to fear," he stated, his tone gentle, reassuring. There was a tenderness in his gaze that set her heart doing cartwheels within her chest even despite the calmness that his touch had instilled.
"Oh, I- I know that," she stammered. She wasn't afraid of him, she told herself fiercely. She wasn't. Was she...? Were the butterflies flapping wildly within her stomach the result of attraction, fear, or both? She couldn't fully tell. Surely it was natural though, for her to be afraid? Wasn't that just her soul responding to knowing what he was? The instinct within her that recognised him as the end of her life, her very death in the flesh? Being friends or acquaintances of sorts did not change the course of fate, the inevitable ending to her story; that one day she would die, and he would be the one who would claim and reap her soul.
She pushed the thought from her mind. She couldn't dwell on the agony of that. It would surely drive her mad. She knew Itachi would never harm her. She knew it with every fibre of her being. She just needed time to reconcile what he was with who he was. Death was his assigned role. He followed the command of The Fates. They were the ones who ordained the hour of a mortal's passing. Itachi was the one who came to collect.
Giving him a sheepish smile, Angel discreetly pulled her hand out of his - only for her elbow to knock into the glass bottle of olive oil that was resting on the counter. Itachi immediately caught it, faster than she could blink, preventing it from crashing onto the tiled floor, and placed it safely back onto the worktop. Angel blinked, awe-struck by the speed of his reflexes.
"See?" she pressed a hand to her right cheek, feeling that her skin was hot to the touch and was surely dusted pink. "Clumsy." She was glad of the heat from the frying pan. With any luck he wouldn't suspect she was blushing because of him.
Who are you kidding? she inwardly berated herself. He's a god. He has those special crimson… whatever they were called eyes. He can probably see right through you. Just accept you've totally embarrassed yourself again and cry about it to Salt later.
The horrible fact was that Angel was all too painfully aware that this was a complete abnormality, an anomaly in her standard behaviour. She was never so careless, always so together in front of everyone else - except for him. It was like those eyes did unspeakable things to her mind, stripping her of all her senses and all rational thinking - or was it that they undid all ability to form any manner of coherent thinking? She was at an absolute loss to explain it. Nobody had ever made her feel that way before. Like she was so thoroughly out of control. It was almost intoxicating. Utterly terrifying. She was distinctly aware that she was holding his gaze for far longer than was appropriate given their dynamic, and finally succeeded in dragging her eyes away.
"Thank you," she said bashfully and stepped back, feeling the need to restore a respectable distance between them. Now that he'd soothed her inner agitation, it was impossible not to focus on how his proximity sent an exhilarating thrill through her.
It was positively electrifying.
No matter how hard Angel tried to ignore it, she couldn't dismiss the suffocating static charge that crackled in the air between them. Was it his aura, the air of danger that accompanied what he was, that she was mistaking for physical attraction? Or was she simply a fool drawn to beautiful, dangerous things? Angel was certain regardless that she was the only one who felt it, and wished with every fibre of her being that she could somehow un-feel it.
"Would you like to eat?" she asked courteously, keeping her eyes fixed intently on her cooking, furious at how many times she'd embarrassed herself already. "There's enough for two," she nodded at the frying pan. "Or, I have some cupcakes in the fridge that I made, if you prefer something sweet."
"Do not trouble yourself," he answered smoothly.
"It's no trouble at all!" she exclaimed, relieved to have something to divert her attention from the way his eyes followed her every movement. Turning to the fridge, she retrieved the plate of cupcakes and set them on the table as he took a seat again.
"They're homemade vanilla with buttercream frosting. Please, help yourself!" She plastered a smile onto her face that she hoped wouldn't appear forced or strained.
Itachi eyed the plate, then reached out to take one of the cupcakes. Angel turned back to frying her vegetables, watching him take a bite from the corner of her eye, and found herself fretting over whether he would like her home-made dessert. She considered them tasty enough, but who knew what the gods liked to eat? Deity food was surely far superior to mortal nourishment. What if he hated it? What if it was substandard compared to what he was used to eating?
He ate in civil silence and made no comment, and she couldn't tell what he was thinking. If he hated it, he would have spat it out, surely?
He's the most well-mannered person- god you've ever met, Angel, she reminded herself. He's far too polite to do that. He'll probably just suffer in silence if he thinks it's terrible, and never accept your offer of sweets again. Add it to your list of epic fails.
Not wanting to appear over-eager or rudely interrupt him while he was eating, she resigned herself to asking for his opinion later and checked on the fish in the oven. It was almost fully cooked and she turned the temperature dial, reduced it to a lower setting. After adding seasoning and sauce, she placed the lid on the frying pan, leaving the vegetables to steam on a low heat, and began washing up.
"So," she set her mind to thoughts of further questions about the world he came from, and all its lore. "You said your brother, Hades, isn't the Underworld ruler. What about Zeus? Is he really the King of all the gods?"
"Of those upon the surface, yes," Itachi replied.
"And you know him?" Angel asked in awe.
"Yes."
"What's he like?" she asked curiously. Zeus had never been her favourite of deities and she wondered how much of him had been represented accurately in historical scriptures. She had a deity in her apartment. How could she not take advantage of the trove of knowledge he possessed about everything to do with the world, and especially about her favourite topic of Greek mythology?
"A most noble ruler," he supplied.
"And his Queen really is Hera?"
"Indeed."
"And does he have many children?" Angel went on, her passion for all things Greek mythology taking the driving seat, driving her line of questioning.
Itachi paused, swallowing down the last mouthful of cake. Her questions were not precisely what he had assumed would be the most pressing on her mind, but he obliged nonetheless.
"Only one."
"One?" Angel gasped in astonishment. "So the myths lied about that, too. They totally called him a wo-" she caught herself before she disrespectfully spouted the word 'womanizer' out. How could she speak so carelessly, so freely to a fellow deity? Surely it would cause an immeasurable offence to label Zeus something that he seemed not to be? Clearing her throat, she hastily diverted, "Uh. And the Underworld? Who rules that, if it's not Hades?"
Itachi's eyes shifted from her back, to the cupcakes. He was averse to discussing the deity in question, and yet, he had promised to be as transparent as was required with Angelissa.
"A Titan named Cronus."
"Wow," Angel breathed, shaking her head in wonder. Then she angled a glance over her shoulder at him, and ventured, somewhat daunted, "And… you? Salt told me you belong to the royal family line. Are you really the heir to the Underworld throne?"
There was a long pause, which left Angel wondering why he seemed disinclined to respond readily to that particular question.
At length, Itachi verified, "Yes."
Even before Salt had told her, Angel had always suspected him of belonging to some manner of well-bred nobility. Everything about him screamed sophistication and high society. His effortless elegance, his chivalry and faultless propriety, his dignified, commanding bearing, his unruffled poise, the sureness of his confident gait, his impeccable, genteel manners, the expensive-looking finery he was clothed in and the formal, articulate, archaic language he used to communicate. He was incontestably royalty, through and through.
Sensing that she was perhaps prying too much into overly personal matters he did not particularly wish to expand upon, she deflected, "It's so different from what all the texts say. How could history have gotten it so wrong?"
"It was not written, but passed through word of mouth for a great length of time," Itachi explained. "As a consequence, the stories were altered greatly."
"But some of them must be true?" Angel wondered, scrubbing at the chopping board.
"Some," he agreed.
"Does the Persephone from my story exist?" she glanced at him. "Do you know her?"
"She is an acquaintance of Sasuke's."
Angel's lips parted in surprised delight. Then were Hades and Persephone really together as the myths indicated? The writer within her was elated. The prospect of potentially being able to meet the two - in theory - made her want to squeal with excitement. What were they like? Were they anything similar to how she had envisaged them to be in her work?
The questions almost flew from her tongue, but she caught them at the last second. It was impertinent to ask about the romantic relationship status of Itachi's relatives, surely. She hadn't even met this 'Sasuke'. What was she thinking? Her scattered thoughts were all over the place, and Angel knew she was getting ahead of herself, carried away on fanciful notions that were not her most immediate of concerns courtesy of her imagination realising that the very subjects she had been researching for so long were not in fact figments of legends.
She placed the last of the washed cutlery on the drying rack before switching off the tap and drying her hands. Her enthusiasm to discuss aspects of Greek myth-turned reality was a distraction from the real issues that plagued and worried her, Angel knew. She had far more pressing questions relating to her own safety, about further indiscrepancies that didn't add up that she had forgotten to clarify with him on the night when he'd finally disclosed the truth to her.
"Itachi," she began quietly. "Why did you save me that night? Before we started talking; why did you intervene? You…" she swallowed, struggling to articulate the next words, a harsh reminder of what he was. Everything she had always feared and hated and cursed in life. Death itself. "You're not meant to save lives, so why…?" her voice trailed off. She remained by the sink, staring out the window, catching a glimpse of the light flurry of snowflakes that were once again falling outside.
Itachi's eyes flicked onto Vetty, who was licking her paw at his feet and listening to the exchange with detached interest. "It was not your time," he finally responded, his gaze narrowing at the feline, reminding her of her attempt to terminate Angelissa's young life prematurely. Vetty remained unconcerned.
"That's what I don't understand," Angel shook her head. "You said you don't know how much time a person has left. That it's the Fates who decide that."
"The ordained time is apparent at its arrival. The incident you speak of was an unnatural interference on my domain," he clarified. "A meddling with a human life before its decreed time. A blood pact formed between a mortal and Underworld feline is forbidden."
"That's why you saved me," Angel exhaled in understanding, clasping her hands together as she turned to look at him. "That's what you meant about it not being my time otherwise."
"It is as I informed you," he answered slowly, lifting sincere, dark eyes from the cat in his lap to the mortal who had finally turned to face him. "Death is your protector."
She found her heart skipping a beat at his response and bit her lip at a loss for words, unable to continue the conversation as her mind struggled to catch up with her racing heart.
Depositing Vetty on the tiled kitchen floor, Itachi continued by way of explanation. "The blood pact is what allowed you to see Shisui and I by the riverbank." Angel listened intently as he expanded, corroborating what Salt had already told her. "It gives sight of those who belong to the shades."
The shades. Her research had taught her that the term was another name for the Underworld.
"So I wouldn't have seen you without it?" Angel shook her head in disbelief, her eyes flicking onto Vetty, who continued to groom herself, aloofly removed from the conversation. "That's crazy. All this from a cat I found in the rain…" Recalling the day they had met, she went on, "I really thought I was going to drown on that day in the river. I don't know how I survived it. One second I was trying to save Vetty and going under, the next…I was somehow... not drowning."
Itachi silently recalled his meeting with Suigetsu. Behind his mask, his eyes narrowed. Something about his decision to interfere on that day didn't sit right with the death deity. He knew better than to trust the word of the mercurial, mischievous King of the Oceans. Still, he did not disclose this to Angelissa. There was no reason nor requirement for her to know of Poseidon's involvement, and Itachi certainly did not intend for the two to have any further interaction. Not if he had any say in the matter.
Angel suddenly remembered the incident with the deer in the park. Had that been a supernatural occurrence, too? Or had she imagined it? "Something else weird happened. I never told anyone about it, because I wasn't sure what I saw but... maybe it might help with your investigation?"
Itachi leaned forward, placing his hands flatly upon the table, his gaze and attention fully fixed onto her. He nodded, wordlessly inviting her to continue.
"I came across an injured deer one night while I was out for a walk in the park a few months ago," Angel shared. "It was trapped under a branch, so I went over to help it, and… these dogs came out of nowhere." She sucked in a sharp breath, realisation suddenly dawning upon her. "Wait. They were dogs like the ones that attacked me just a few days ago!" She turned wide eyes to Itachi. "Do you know about that? Were you there? I saw a black bird… was it your crow? Just as I was being sucked into one of those black vortex things, but a moment later, I'd somehow switched places and gotten out."
"I was witness to it," Itachi confirmed, indicating that he had intervened.
Angel folded her arms, feeling a sudden chill run through her. "Well... they were similar dogs - just, with one head each - that attacked me and the deer. I tried to protect it. I didn't realise how badly injured it was until it was too late. The dogs knocked me to the ground and I thought I was going to die then, but all of a sudden they just stopped… and vanished."
Itachi's eyes narrowed as he contemplated this new information. The same creatures had been set upon her before? Black hounds seemingly brought into being from the dark arts. The gears in his mind turned, working through the implications, the possibilities - and potential culprits. This was a crucial incident that had happened months prior. It displeased him that he was only finding out about it at that very moment. How much time and possible leads had been wasted as a result?
"Why did you not inform your friend?" he questioned at last, a trace of disapproval evident in his tone.
"I…" Angel fumbled despite herself, surprised to hear him not addressing Salt as 'the nymph'. He still wasn't using her name - but it was a marked improvement to the impersonal noun he'd spoken before.
"After the dogs vanished, the deer just got up, and she was fully healed. I couldn't understand it. I didn't know anything strange was happening or that they'd been sent after me," she defended, hugging herself. "I didn't know about any of this. I didn't know what to tell Salt without sounding like I was out of my mind and regardless, we weren't really on speaking terms then, because…" She trailed off and chanced a glance at him, recalling the reason for the rift between them and the role he had played in it. "Anyway, the deer was definitely injured. I don't know how her wounds just closed up, or why those dogs just disappeared into thin air. They just appeared out of nowhere, too. It was totally weird."
"Indeed." He remarked mildly, regarding her intently for a long moment - and then fluidly rose to his feet in an abrupt manner which categorically signalled his intention to depart. Angel tensed, surprised to feel sinking disappointment. A quick glance at the clock hanging from the wall revealed that already an hour and a half had passed since he'd first arrived, and yet how quickly the time had flown by in his company. Just as it always had whenever they'd spoken by the river. Was he leaving so soon?
Like an exalted immortal doesn't have better, more important things to do with his time than hang out with you, Angel thought sarcastically to herself, grounding herself firmly back to reality. It didn't matter that time seemed to suspend for her whenever she was in his company. She could hardly expect him to stay longer. He was a god, who had countless responsibilities to see to. That he had spared the time to visit her at all was the highest of honours.
"I have intruded upon you long enough."
"Oh, no," Angel shook her head. "It's no intrusion at all. I- thank you for visiting. Please feel free. Anytime. To visit, I mean." She added, feeling awkward and self-conscious all over again under the weight of his quiet, scrutinising stare.
He pushed the chair into the table and stepped back.
"Please, wait," she blurted, as something else crossed her mind, a burning question she had somehow completely managed to overlook in their previous meeting. He paused respectfully mid-step, waiting for her to speak.
"I was really badly hurt in an accident that happened in an abandoned warehouse," she began, fidgeting nervously with her fingers. "I had a concussion and broke the bones in my right arm and leg. The doctors said it would take me months to recover… but... it only took two."
Itachi was silent. Angel felt her heart skip a beat. The heat of his gaze was blistering, and somehow, in that moment, she knew with certainty that he had once again intervened.
"You healed me," she breathed, deeply touched by the infinite depths of his kindness. Here was a great noble prince amongst the gods, leagues above her in standing and in existence and in every conceivable way, who had taken such pain-staking measures to see to her safety so meticulously, asking for neither recognition nor praise from her in return.
Angel was flooded with a fresh wave of confusion, unable to comprehend why he would dedicate such particular care to her. Once again, she felt like she was drowning in debt to him. It boggled her mind that he would go to such lengths to ensure her wellbeing, and left her feeling inadequate, unworthy of even the slightest sliver of his attention.
She recalled Salt's words. Her friend had suggested that Angel was special to Itachi. The words on the paper he had penned returned to haunt her, setting her cheeks ablaze. She had tried so hard to not think about the poem in his presence. And yet, at that very moment, she could not shake it from her mind. She could not reconcile in her thoughts, how a deity so lofty in status was capable of even noticing her at all, let alone write such lines for her. To her. What was she to him? The question tormented her. And yet what else could she be but a hapless mortal he had taken it upon himself to protect from dangers unknown?
But he had also assured her that none of her thoughts with regards to the nature of their meetings had ever been her assumption. Her mind spun. Could she even dare? To entertain that his actions were rooted in anything other than preventing her unnatural, untimely demise? Was it even conceivable that he did feel some manner of affection for her, however slight?
She crushed the idea. No. There went her thoughts, running away fancifully again. It was impossible. He was a god, she was a lowly human. Surely it was only grounded in compassion on his part. She had to put an end to such wildly improper, preposterous and downright dangerous thoughts. Hadn't she promised herself that she would? Why did all resolve seem to waver and crumble whenever he stood before her? It was distressing. Most alarming. A part of her desperately wanted to ask him about the poem, to be rid of agonising over it as she had ever since Salt had revealed its meaning to her, and yet, she was terrified and did not dare to mention it.
He was still watching her silently. He did not need to reply. She knew it from the way his gaze held hers, unwavering, an unspoken confirmation that he had indeed been the one who had restored her fully to health. He hadn't needed to accelerate the healing process and yet had chosen to regardless. The implications behind that were staggering, leaving Angel stunned and speechless.
"Itachi," she swallowed, her throat clogged with emotion, feeling her eyes stinging with tears. "I don't know how I can ever thank you, I… all the things you've done for me..." She didn't finish her sentence. She couldn't tell him that the Death she had spent her life despising was the last thing she had ever expected could and would protect her.
He stepped around the table and slowly approached her. She watched, mesmerized, as he drew closer, leaving behind the respectable distance he usually observed with her and coming to a stop just before her. So close that she feared their bodies would touch if she breathed too deeply. That would not be a concern, since she seemed entirely incapable of breathing at all in that moment. She turned searching hazel eyes towards him, struck all at once by just how much taller he was than herself.
He slowly lifted a ruby-ringed hand and gently brushed stray strands of chestnut hair from her face, tucking them behind her ear, his eyes following the movements of his hand. His fingers brushed against the shell of her ear and he did not, at first, retract his hand. Angel found she couldn't wrench her eyes from his, even when she knew that it had to be wrong, disrespectful even, to sustain eye-contact for so long. His eyes were the most beautiful and arresting she had ever seen on any face, and the way he seemed to truly see her as nobody else ever had before made her powerless to resist the darkly seductive magnetism of that all-knowing gaze. Inside her chest her heart was pounding again.
Why did he reach out to touch her in such a way? Tucking her hair behind her ear denoted a tender gesture laced with care, she knew, and yet… he had never taken the liberty of initiating physical contact without cause in the past. Save for restoring her bag to her and the multitude of times he had been compelled to touch her to save, heal or otherwise assist her, Itachi had always maintained a carefully measured, respectable distance between them. But at that moment, he was close enough for her to glimpse the lighter flecks of stormy grey in the onyx irises that pierced through her from behind his gilded mask.
Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers came to rest on the curve of her cheek, lingering briefly before he spoke.
"You need not thank me, Angelissa."
When she searched his eyes, for the meaning behind those words, she felt her heart would stop entirely at the sight of the tenderness that was hidden behind those fathomless, ebony irises. Seeing her confusion, he slowly withdrew his hand and added, "I acted on my own desire."
She could not seem to work her mind to understand and accept the words he had spoken. Their meaning, combined with the gentle tenderness with which he had looked at her, with which he had touched her, left her feeling as if a tempest had swept through her, scattering her thoughts into fragments, leaving nothing behind but the thundering roar of her heartbeat.
He turned to leave, placing a hand firmly upon her left shoulder as did so. "Take heed. Leave no doors unlocked."
She nodded mutely at the repeated advice, not trusting herself to answer at that moment, too overwhelmed by gratitude and a multitude of so many other, warring emotions. Her swarming, perplexed thoughts were whirling in riotous cyclones, causing chaos and pandemonium to run rampant in her mind. She had never felt so bewildered. So afraid of her own feelings, of everything she couldn't comprehend about him. She had never felt so uncertain. Of all the mysteries that had unfolded to her, it was Itachi and not knowing what those dark, entrancing eyes were thinking whenever they locked onto her, that disconcerted her most.
"Until we meet again, Angelissa," he murmured in parting. Then he stepped back, and turned toward the doorway.
"Goodnight," she whispered, watching as he exited the kitchen, his cloak trailing behind him. Seconds later she hurried to the doorway, peering into the hall that led to the living room. Surely enough, he had already vanished.
Angel's eyebrows drew together in confusion. Had she said something wrong? Why had he departed so suddenly? She hadn't even gotten the chance to ask him whether he'd liked the cakes. Sighing deeply, she rested her head against the door frame, thoughtlessly lifting her hand to her face to touch the cheek his own fingertips had lingered upon just a minute before, clinging onto the word 'again' once more - another promise of certainty that she would see him again soon.
She knew that her vegetables were likely over-cooked. As she walked back toward the oven, her eyes were snagged by the plate of cupcakes on the table.
Her disappointment was replaced with foolish, giddy delight, when she noticed that two out of the five that she'd taken out of the fridge had been eaten, and there were no signs of any crumbs left.
The indisputable evidence afforded to him by Angelissa's account, by Vetty's involvement in the entire affair, and by the familiar chakra signature he had picked up on during the most recent attempt on Angelissa's life, led the stoic god of death through the hedges of the underworld's gardens where black and white hydrangeas blossomed on all sides. Their fragrance was intoxicating to deities, poisonous to mortals.
At the approaching corner of the maze stood none other than the queen of the underworld, her hair piled high into an elaborate bun on her head, her crown perfectly in place, gleaming in the ethereal, translucent, turquoise glow of the passing fireflies. Her sequined, midnight-blue chiton was bound by a silver-leaf belt and she stood proudly as she admired her work.
A woven silver basket was set at her feet as she snipped off the exquisite blooms, one after the other, and laid them to rest by their counterparts. She turned slightly as she saw him approach, and a slow smile spread across her darkly painted lips.
Itachi's eyes narrowed infinitesimally at the sight of his mother. Had the word "mother" blinded him in regards to the goddess standing before him? Had the memories of his upbringing cast a shroud over her, preventing him from seeing that beyond that, she was a woman just like any other?
"My love," she greeted, extending her arms towards him.
He accepted her embrace quietly, and when she drew back, still holding his shoulders affectionately, he searched her eyes for the truth hidden behind the love that gleamed there.
"I have missed you of late, my son. The sight of you is a balm to my soul." She turned back to her work, snipping one bloom after another from its place on the flowering bush.
"Yes, the same has reached my ears, mother," he murmured in agreement.
Nyx started, and the bloom she cut from the bush tumbled past her outstretched hand, falling to her feet. Hastily pasting on a smile, she kicked the offensive bloom gently to the side with a velvet-slippered foot, before questioning, "Whatever do you mean, my son?"
"Lord Cronus has informed me of your concern as to my whereabouts." His voice was low and devoid of intonation, as impassive as his expression and Nyx could not glean anything from it. What did that mean? What did he know?
"Ah, our Lord must have heard me airing my concerns to the servants. I admit I've had nothing but you on my mind as of late," she chirped, filling her basket.
"Nothing?" Itachi questioned quietly, the simple word filling Nyx with an ominous sense of foreboding.
Unease scrambled through her veins. He was her son. But he had grown into a fearsome deity, respected across the three realms. He tolerated no interference in his matters, showed no mercy to those who attempted to deceive him and yet, she was his mother. Surely, his affection towards her would warrant some form of immunity? Beyond that, it was unlikely he had discovered anything at all about her involvement in his affairs. She had escaped his notice for centuries already. Even if he held suspicion towards her, surely, he merely hoped for her to waive those concerns. Doubtless, the child's heart within him longed to believe in her, for her to satisfactorily explain away any fears that might have taken root in his heart. Yes, that she could do.
"What concerns you, my child?" She laid her shears to rest in the basket and turned towards her son. "Do you doubt that my heart belongs wholly to you and your brother?" The affectionate smile on her lips and the warm glow in her dark eyes sought to reassure him.
"Forgive me, mother," Itachi demurred. "I can not but wonder why this concern for my well being led you to pursue me to the surface. Surely, you can have no business there?"
Nyx faltered, her lips parted for a silent, sharp intake of breath and surprise sparked in her upturned, heavy-lashed eyes. It was impossible. She had cloaked herself in the night itself. She had been invisible to even his eyes and yet, she recalled how his crimson eyes had flickered briefly over her on the surface. That moment where she had believed herself safely veiled from his eyes… had she truly been so?
"I… I cannot know what you mean, my son." She stammered.
"Mother," Itachi continued, looking down into his mother's startled onyx eyes, noting the flash of blind panic that had flickered to life there. The movement in her throat as she swallowed thickly. The hint of fear behind her startled expression that cleared almost as suddenly as it appeared.
He bent to retrieve the black hydrangea she had attempted to kick beneath the hedge and, reaching for her wrist, lifted her ringed hand between the two of them and laid the bloom to rest on her pale palm. Still holding her wrist, he hovered over his mother and whispered quietly, "Your countenance betrays you."
Nyx lowered her gaze and stared at the black petals of the hydrangea she had discarded. She could not afford to confirm his suspicions in the slightest or all of her efforts thus far would be for naught. If he discovered her involvement, if he learned of the mortal maidens concealed beneath the oceans, if he even learned of the prophecy itself… the powerful hand holding her slight wrist so gingerly, might become the hand of an enemy.
The thought terrified her. Would her own son stand against her? Although everything she had done had been for his sake? She knew he had a strong sense of justice and was filled with misguided pity for the mortals… she did not know whether that pity outweighed his love for her and she did not care to find out.
Schooling her features into a neutral expression, she lifted her face towards her son. She did not know how much he knew, or where he had seen her, and she could not afford to be caught lying outright nor admitting to her actions. If Itachi was clever, well, she was centuries older than him. She knew this game as well as any.
Pressing a hand to her mouth in surprise, she furrowed her brow in a desperate plea. "Oh, please, my son. Do not tell your father of this. It is thoroughly mortifying."
A flicker of surprise flitted through Itachi's eyes as he released his mother.
"I admit, you were right. Indeed, I ventured to the surface although I had no business there." She turned away from him to toss the hydrangea into the basket. "I had no other choice. My Vetty has still not returned and she was the dearest of my familiars. As you are doubtless aware, I cannot simply allow for an underworld feline to wander among the mortals. I would be held responsible for whatever chaos ensues."
She paced back and forth, as if driven to distraction by her predicament while Itachi stood firmly in place, observing her through fathomless eyes.
"And sure enough, Vetty has already caused mischief. Just as I feared she would." Nyx looked over her shoulder, to ascertain no eavesdroppers lingered nearby, before approaching Itachi and laying a hand on his arm as she leaned in to confess, "I fear she has bound a mortal woman to herself by blood."
"I had no choice but to attempt to lure the mortal to the underworld, forcing Vetty to follow but alas, it was all in vain. The mortal managed to escape and Vetty is still at large, causing trouble I dare not even imagine."
She resumed her pacing, folding her arms across her chest as if to reassure herself. "A blood-bond with a mortal! And I, to be held responsible! Oh, that Vetty has caused more mischief than I wish to be held accountable for this time. I did my utmost to put things to rights but all my attempts were for naught. I hate to think what would happen if Vetty is not returned immediately, along with that mortal. I must see to it that the bond is somehow broken and that your father does not learn of my incompetence."
Itachi remained silent as he listened to his mother's explanation.
Nyx chanced a glance at her son, "It is most humiliating that you have discovered my irresponsible oversight, if your father were to learn of this..."
"Father is most forgiving in your affairs," Itachi responded quietly. "You are a brave goddess indeed, to fear father and not Lord Cronus' retribution. As we know, he is swift in punishment."
Nyx's breath hitched in her throat again but she caught herself and, steeling her emotions, turned to Itachi calmly, "I should think Lord Cronus has no time for such trifles. Surely, he can not be bothered with a report of one wayward underworld feline." She waved a hand in dismissal.
Itachi's mouth set in a thin line and Nyx's next words could not make it past the knot on her tongue. She had made a mistake somewhere. Something had caught his notice. What had she done? Where was the error that had allowed him to see through her pretense? Trepidation flooded her heart as her mind raced to find the mistake and set it to rights.
"You need not concern yourself further with the matter, Mother." Itachi announced, displeasure veiled behind the coldness of his onyx eyes. "I will see to the feline… and the mortal."
The fear in her heart dissipated at the sheer joy his words kindled to life within her. He would see to the mortal. That was all she needed. Surely, once he laid eyes on her and spent time with her intimately, their hearts would be bound by affection for one another and his long-suffering solitude would at last be brought to an end.
"Oh, you have my gratitude, Itachi." She hummed with a smile. "Then I will leave matters in your most capable hands."
"Ensure that you do." Itachi nodded, turning away from her. Nyx admired his retreating back with awe, watching his cloak billowing behind him as his proud form faded into the distance.
He had grown into a most handsome deity, wise, kind, just, and perfect. How dearly she loved him. How she hoped for him to find love and happiness. A loyal, subservient wife at his side. Children to call his own.
I should think Lord Cronus has no time for such trifles.
Her mistake hit her with the force of one of Zeus' thunderbolts and her knees trembled. She sunk to the ground as her legs refused to carry her.
She had dismissed the threat of Cronus' wrath and she had been fool enough to do so calmly. She should have trembled in fear. Should have begged him to keep it a secret. Should have shown the deference and humility that was customary in the Underworld. She had been damnably ignorant enough to speak of the patriarch with a familiarity few would have.
She trembled in horror at the thought of her son discovering how she had spent the past few centuries, caged in Cronus' arms, making herself available to him in ways the laws of gods and men frowned upon. The disdain she would discover in her family's eyes, the hatred on their expressions… she would rather fling herself to Tartarus' depths than be forced to witness them.
She squeezed her eyes shut and shivered as she recalled her foolish oversight. Impending doom hovered over her head with a blood-curdling finality at the inevitable conclusion he would draw from her words. She could only pray with all her heart that Itachi was more concerned with the mortal on the surface than with the hints of Nyx's betrayal underground.
Angel pushed open the front door to her apartment building the next morning, determined to collect her mail. She had been neglecting the post for nearly a week since all the chaos began, but it was time to take her life back into her own hands. She pulled her hair out from the shawl wrapped around her neck as she stepped through the doorway into the glittering winter sunshine and adjusted her cross-body brown leather purse as she made her way the few steps up the road to get her mail.
She unlocked her compartment and pulled out several letters. Bills, advertisements… her breath caught in her throat as she saw the sender's address on the last letter.
Canterbury Police Station, Old Dover Road.
Her case. Her confession. She swallowed thickly as she was suddenly hit with a bout of nausea. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She would be alright. She had to be. This was what she had wanted.
You are neither a murderer. Nor a killer. It was a thing ordained.
With a determined frown, she placed the other letters in her purse and opened the letter from the police station.
Dear Miss Caelum,
Regarding your given statement in the above case we hereby inform you that an official investigation into the death of Horace Williams has concluded that there was no indication of foul play.
As the evidence and the testimonies provided indicate there is no suspicion of criminal intent or activity, the case has been closed.
Should new information come to light, the case may be reopened at a future point in time.
The case was closed. The investigation had been concluded. It was over.
She had done the right thing. She had done as much as she could, hadn't she? The grief of having caused another living being's death still stung deep but she knew now that it had been an unfortunate accident, one that would haunt her forever, but one she would somehow learn to live with. There was no other option.
"Darling," the smooth voice that spoke up behind her had the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.
She whirled around, only to find Cain standing almost immediately behind her. She had not heard him approaching.
"Cain." Angel stood her ground and met his eye as she clutched the letter to her chest. If she had not made herself clear on the phone, then she would do so now. She was done with this man. Done with all the chaos he had introduced into her life. Done with all the self-doubt and confusion he whispered into her veins.
"What brings you here?" Angel asked, clutching her purse strap defensively.
"What brings me here?" He flashed her that familiar, disarming grin as he ran a hand through his hair, brushing back the blond locks that had fallen over his forehead. "Why, you, of course."
"You haven't been picking up my calls, did you lose your phone? We said we would meet up when you're feeling better, remember?"
He looked her once over, his azure eyes lingering on her form longer than necessary and Angel felt distinctly uncomfortable under his gaze.
"Well, I'd say you're feeling better. You're a sight for sore eyes, Darling. But you tell me, how are you?"
"Cain, I said I want to be left alone. That there is no potential for there to be anything between us in the long-term." Angel responded calmly, not willing to play along with his games.
"No, you said you needed space. A breather. And that's what I gave you." He sidled closer, and slipped an arm around her waist, before pulling her in towards himself.
"I'm sure you're thinking more clearly now that you're feeling a bit better, aren't you?"
Angel struggled to free herself from his grasp and pushed at his chest to try and win some distance between them.
"Hey, hey. Look, I'm sorry for the things I said. I see people die every day and I admit, I've become somewhat desensitized to it. I was only trying to make you feel better, love," he cooed into her ear.
"Let go of me!" Angel shouted, frustrated by his vice-like grip.
Surprised, he finally released her. He lifted his hands in surrender, as if to suggest his innocence. "Now, what's all this, Angel? What's going on?"
"I'll tell you what's going on, Cain," she snapped, smoothing down her coat. "In case I didn't make myself clear enough on the telephone, allow me to do so now."
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze evenly.
"You are not, and never have been, my boyfriend, Cain. I don't recall ever agreeing to that, and I certainly don't recall you ever asking me. So, I would appreciate it if you stop introducing yourself as if you were and stop touching me so familiarly without my permission."
"Feisty," Cain chuckled. "I like it."
Angel bristled and her brow furrowed in anger. "Not feisty. Honest. Whatever this relationship between us was, I am ending it now. Don't call me or visit me anymore, Cain. I don't want to see you again."
"What?" Disappointed indignance registered on his countenance. "All of a sudden? Angel, what's happened?"
"What - What's happened?" Angel echoed in disbelief. Had he not been present the past few months? Had he not seen with his own eyes all the misfortune that had clouded her life ever since he had entered it? All the ways he had wronged her?
"You can't be serious!"
"Angel," he cooed, stepping closer, reaching for her hand. "Give me a chance, you've been through a lot. You're not in your right mind right now."
"Don't touch me!" Angel hissed, stepping back.
Taking a deep breath, she tried again. "I am absolutely in my right mind at the moment, although I can't be sure if that holds true for the previous months of our acquaintance." She spoke evenly, deliberately, and as calmly as she could.
"You endangered my life and my wellbeing more than once with your reckless behavior. Some of it was unintentional but mostly, you knew precisely what you were doing. The speeding, the graffiti, the drugs…" she groaned, remembering it all. "It always went from bad to worse with you."
"Even when I nearly died, and was hospitalized with almost no hope of a full recovery, you… you didn't feel an ounce of remorse! Life is just one big game for you, isn't it? You isolated me from my friends, you pushed me into things you knew I was uncomfortable with… Did you think I was some kind of toy? Did you want to see how far you could bend me until I broke? No." She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to answer.
"Forget it," she dismissed, shaking her head. "I don't even want to know. I don't know what came over me. You're not even my type." She muttered, pressing a hand to her temple. She could feel a light headache brewing, but she wasn't backing down.
"It doesn't matter. All that matters is this. I want nothing more to do with you, Cain Lockwood. Please respect that and leave."
She stood across from him, meeting his gaze confidently, hoping the message had gotten through to him. Nothing could have prepared her for the sound that met her ears.
Cain laughed. A chuckle at first, and then a deep, rumbling sound as if he found her suffering truly hilarious.
"I'm sorry, Angel." He got out between bursts of laughter. "Truly, I am. It's just so preposterous."
Wiping a tear of mirth from his eye, he finally lifted crystal blue eyes towards her, still chuckling. "Do you really believe I am to blame for the things that have happened to you? Wow. Deflecting big time. And what - your friends? You're joking, right?"
He frowned as he stepped closer. "Did you forget that you were the one who came to me first? Asking me to get you out of that tea shop? Asking me not to leave you to face them alone? Did you forget all the things you said? About that psycho bitch and her antisocial guard dog?"
"Hey," Angel countered, anger blazing within her. Yes, she had said things. Things she deeply regretted, but she refused to allow him to reduce her to self-doubt again. She refused to allow him to absolve himself of the accountability for the things he had done, by shifting the blame to her.
"Don't you talk about her that way. I may have said some things, but… if it weren't for your influence, we would've made up ages ago. We always do. You're the one who kept planting ideas in my head, riling me up. Do you think I'm an idiot?!" She seethed.
"Do you think I don't remember how you suggested that Salt sees me as some kind of doll, when in fact, you're the one who saw me that way? Think I don't remember how you were insulting their business and picking fights with them every chance you got with your snide comments? Or the way you pointed them out to me in the club knowing full well I would lose it?! That was exactly what you wanted, wasn't it? I still remember you laughing. You were so pleased with yourself, it was disgusting."
Angel shook her head and shuddered at the memory. "And… you even went so far as to hide the fact that Salt saved me. That she came through for me again even though I was so terrible to her. You hid that from me and pretended it was you! How can you be so deceitful? How can you live with yourself?!"
Cain scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I guess this means you made up with them. So, they've gaslighted you into believing I'm the one at fault and they're all you have. Pitiful, really." He clicked his tongue and shook his head.
Gripping her shoulders, he loomed in over her. "Was I wrong? Were you wrong? Isn't it true that she messed with your head? That the both of them lied to you? That they followed you places no matter how much distance you tried to put between the two of you?"
"Do you mean," Angel ground out, glaring up at him, "the way you are doing right now?"
"Me?" Cain released her and stepped back. "Whatever that fucking bitch told you about me…"
"Don't you talk about her that way! You have no right! She's a thousand times the friend you never were!" Angel shouted at him, not caring who heard. After everything Salt had been through. Everything she had done for Angel. After all of her sacrifice, hearing Cain speak about her that way, realizing there was a time Angel had condoned it, made her want to sink into the earth. Made her want to tear him apart.
"Oh, I'll say what I want. It's about time someone told you the fucking truth. That fucking stalker is a psycho. You only have to look at her to see it but you like playing house with that bitch as if she -"
Angel's hand connected with Cain's face with such force that he stumbled two paces before regaining his footing.
"How dare you?" She seethed, fury burning in her glowing hazel eyes. "I never want to hear her name from your mouth again. Salt has been the most loyal friend."
Tears of anger and guilt pricked at Angel's eyes as Cain stared at her in shock, a hand pressed to his face. "And I didn't deserve her."
She blinked the tears away and shook her head, her palm red and stinging from the force of impact. "If you so much as mention her name again, I swear to God, Cain, not even your father will be able to save your sorry hide."
"It's over. Don't call me. Don't visit me. If I ever hear your name again, it'll be too soon."
She turned on her heel, ready to finally put Cain and all of his chaos behind her, when she felt a large, strong hand grip her arm. Glancing up over her shoulder, she saw him hovering over her, his expression darkened with anger.
"Did you think it would be that easy to break up with me?" He murmured quietly, his baritone low and foreboding.
Angel tried to yank her arm out of his grasp, but he held firm. Horror and dread filled her as she struggled, but Cain was unaffected, bringing his other hand up to trace a feather-light touch up her free arm and over her shoulder.
"I believe I've mentioned this before. I always get what I want." His fingers trailed up the side of her neck and Angel shuddered in disgust. "No exceptions."
Without warning, Angel stomped her heeled boot onto his instep, causing him to release her with a grunt of pain. Without waiting to see if he recovered, she tore down the walkway, her feet pounding upon the pavement as she hastened to put as much distance as possible between them. At the bend, she chanced a look over her shoulder, only to find that Cain was close on her heels and his face was contorted in fury.
With a gasp of horror, she quickened her steps, her heart racing in blind panic. Her surroundings passed by in a blur as she struggled to stay ahead of him, but he was bigger than her, stronger, and faster. He would catch up to her in no time, and what would happen to her then?
She didn't want to think about it. Pushing herself to go faster, to lift her feet that much quicker, she sped past the buildings and the parks, skirting the few elderly passersby on the road at that hour. Was there any point in asking for help? He would probably grab her before she could even finish voicing her plea.
She felt his fingers brush against the back of her coat and she released a cry of alarm. She was out of breath and running as fast as she could, but he was closing in. She was doomed.
Someone, save me!
Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own because after what seemed like an endless race against time she spotted a familiar building with a green-and-gold glass-paneled door to salvation.
Angel burst through the door to the tea shop, heedless of the customers who looked up in alarm as she did so. Salt froze where she stood, on her way back to the service area with a tray in her hands and Levi's head shot up from where he sat at the counter. Angel fled down the length of the aisle without slowing a step and rushed into Salt's arms, breathless and terrified.
"Angel!" Salt dropped the tray to the floor with a clatter and reached out to receive her friend, holding her close. "What's wrong?!"
Angel gulped for breath, her eyes darting wildly around the tea shop as she struggled to speak. He wouldn't follow her in here, would he?
"It's- it's Cain! He's-"
But before she could finish, the door was thrown open once more and the very same blond doctor in question darkened their doorstep. Far from his usual, smug and aloof appearance, his long, blond locks were disheveled, his coat was askew from the chase and a frenzied rage simmered in his cold, blue eyes.
"There you are, darling," he drawled, stalking down the wood-paneled floor. "I've been looking for you."
"Stop calling me that!" Angel all but screamed, clinging to her raven-haired friend.
Salt scowled in anger and pushed Angel behind herself in a protective gesture. "You have no business with her," she answered evenly, a warning in her voice. "Leave at once."
"I don't take orders from you, psycho bitch. I told you to stop putting your nose into our affairs, didn't I?" He answered smoothly, adjusting his coat as he approached.
He was brought to a stop by Levi's hand on his chest. The owner of the tea shop had leapt smoothly over the counter and crossed the distance to the infuriating blond in a matter of a few seconds, posing a further obstacle in Cain's path towards Angel.
"You heard her," Levi nodded towards the door. "Out."
"Hiding behind them now? When you were cursing them only days ago? Clever little thing," he chuckled, meeting Angel's eyes over Salt's shoulder. "You're not so different from me, are you Angel?"
"Oi." Levi interrupted, stepping more firmly between Cain and Angel. "She doesn't want to see you. Get out."
Cain attempted to shoulder his way past Levi. "You think this is the end? You think you can get away from me that easily?! You stupid, little cunt -"
It happened faster than Angel could process. One moment Cain had pushed past Levi and was closing in on herself and Salt, the next - Levi had placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back before throwing a punch that connected with Cain's jaw so soundly the crack still echoed clearly in Angel's ears. The man went flying down the length of the tea shop at the force of the impact, hitting a chair as he fell and rolled to a stop by the doorway, motionless.
"That's twice now I've asked you to leave," Levi said calmly.
A collective gasp went through the customers as some shuffled quickly to their feet to leave the building in haste. Angel slowly stepped out from behind Salt's shadow and approached Cain hesitantly, a hand pressed over her mouth in shock, keeping a careful distance as she determined he was unconscious but not dead. She turned to tell her friends as much when she saw Salt approach Levi single-mindedly. The raven-haired nymph reached up and, cupping his face in both hands, pulled him in towards herself and kissed him firmly on the mouth.
"That," Salt announced breathlessly, her eyes aglow with pride. "Is the hottest thing you have ever done."
Levi stared at Salt in muted surprise, the spontaneous action causing his surroundings and even the current incident to fade into the background. An adrenaline rush was still coursing through his veins and his eyes darkened in response to the fleeting touch of her lips but before he could pull her in to kiss her properly, she released him and turned towards Angel, pulling her friend away from the blond.
"The two of you go into the kitchen." Salt instructed, taking over command of the situation. There would be time enough for questions later. For now, people were staring and Angel was in a state of shock. She needed to be able to sit down somewhere in peace and quiet. Beyond that, Salt wanted to get Levi away from judgmental eyes. "Levi, please put some ice on that hand, I wouldn't want you getting hurt." She steered them both behind the counter. "I'll take care of things out here. Angel needs a breather, and a cup of tea. You'll get her one, won't you?"
Before either of them could truly protest, she had ushered them safely into the kitchen area and turned to face the stunned customers.
"I am truly sorry about all this, but if it's not too much trouble, might I ask you to clear the premises? I will need to tend to this unfortunate rat infestation." She explained, gesturing towards the unconscious man.
The customers stared at her in surprise a moment, before the first of them began picking up their belongings and the rest followed suit.
Slowly, the gathering collected themselves and made for the door, expressing sympathy or surprise to one another as they left the tea shop. Salt closed the door behind the last of them and withdrew her phone.
She would have to call an ambulance, although the repulsive doctor did not deserve it in the slightest. Cain was lucky he was a mortal. If he were anything but, she would have seen to it that he received the chastisement he deserved.
She cast one last glance at the pathetic blond, recalling the terror with which Angel had burst through their door and the disgusting language with which he had addressed her best friend.
"I should have killed you when I had the chance," she muttered, before sighing and pressing the "call" button.
Levi placed a gentle hand on Angel's shoulder, steering her towards the kitchen table.
"Sit down," he instructed. "Catch your breath."
Angel nodded numbly and allowed herself to be seated, folding her hands nervously in her lap. She watched as Levi rinsed his hand off under cold water only to bite her lip in concern as she saw that his knuckles were red and likely stinging. She got right back on her feet and turned towards the freezer for an ice pack.
She could scarcely bring herself to look at him as she handed it over. "That looks painful. I'm sorry."
Her own recent behavior, the argument that had taken place in this very kitchen, and Cain's earlier accusation were still very clear in her mind.
If I wanted brotherly advice, I would ask my real brother.
How could she have said such a thing? To Levi, no less, who had time and again proven to be no less caring than a real brother would be? Who had always shown her kindness and understanding, in his own way? She knew it wasn't normal, or expected in any way, for a friend's boyfriend to be this considerate.
"Thanks." Levi accepted the ice pack and pressed it to his hand. "It's nothing. Just a little out of practice."
He nodded towards the table. "Sit down, I'll make you a cup."
Angel nodded and slunk back into her seat.
"What happened with shit-for-brains?" Levi asked, retrieving a kettle.
"I broke up with him. Or at least, I was trying to." Angel responded glumly. "He totally flipped out. I mean, I knew he was angry, but… I didn't think he would completely lose it that way."
"Hm," Levi answered quietly, his frown hidden from Angel as he stood with his back towards her, setting the kettle on. "What did you expect? He has shit for brains."
He spooned the tea leaves into a porcelain teacup with gilded edges and rose detailing and poured the steaming water into the cup, before stirring gently.
"Good that you came here," he commented, turning back towards her. He set the cup of tea in front of Angel before moving to the other side of the table.
Levi cast her a glance, seeing her stare miserably into the steaming, brown liquid, watching the swirling tea leaves within.
"You okay?" he questioned, calling her attention.
"Oh, yeah. I think. I just don't understand why he would do that. He was annoying, to be sure, and always pushy, but… this was a bit much, even for him." Angel deflected, reaching for her tea.
"Are you surprised?" Levi deadpanned, "You were the only one buying Dr. Dumbass's act."
"You guys can't have known he would be this way from the start?" she questioned, incredulous. "You can't see that sort of thing in a person!"
"Speak for yourself," Levi countered, crossing his arms.
Angel stirred her tea thoughtfully. Had it really been obvious to everyone but herself that Cain was so much trouble?
"I, um…" She attempted, clutching the warm tea cup in her cold fingers. "I never cursed you guys. I may have complained, but I… I didn't…" Tears pooled in her eyes as she attempted to explain away Cain's accusation.
"Do you think I'm stupid?" Levi answered evenly. "How long have we known you? Why would we believe a word that comes out of that quack's mouth?"
"I just, I was worried that you…" Angel trailed off and sighed. "I know I've said and done a lot of terrible things to both of you but I…" she bit her lip. Where to draw the line? And did the line even matter? Tears spilled over her cheeks and she wiped them away as she sniffled, trying to get the words out.
"Forget it," Levi dismissed, uncomfortable with her tears. "If Salt thinks I made you cry, she'll have my head. Cut it out."
Angel laughed, despite herself, and nodded.
"Looks like your case has been closed?" Levi questioned, leaning back in his chair.
Angel lifted wide eyes to his, "How did you know? I just got the letter today."
Realization dawned and she dropped her gaze once more. The bail amount must have been returned to Levi's account. Of course he would know.
"How much was bail?" she asked hesitantly. "I was a bit out of it and wasn't really paying attention."
"Does it matter?" Levi dismissed. "The case is closed and it's done with."
"It was a lot, wasn't it?" Angel winced. What had the policewoman at the counter said? Ten thousand? A hundred thousand? She hoped to God it wasn't a hundred thousand. The need to know burned on her tongue and at length, she gathered her courage.
"It wasn't... a hundred thousand, was it?" she tried, hopeful that Levi would roll her eyes and tell her she was dumb, but, instead, his silence served as her answer.
"Oh, my god." She let her head fall into her hands as awareness of the sheer sum hit her with full force. "A hundred thousand pounds."
"It's been refunded. Nothing to lose your head over." Levi deflected, "Drink your tea, it's getting cold."
Angel sipped miserably at her tea. They hadn't even been on speaking terms and yet, Levi had willingly spent such an enormous amount of money to help her out of a bad situation. Guilt clawed at her insides. Yet another thing they had done for her.
She sat in the warm kitchen, flooded with winter sunlight, a comforting cup of hot tea in her hands and stared thoughtfully into its depths. To think only minutes prior she had been running for her life. Now, in the safety of the tea shop's kitchen she felt warm and protected. She had Salt and Levi looking out for her. Why had she ever wanted it any other way? She owed them so much and yet, her gratitude was always tinged with regret.
"Levi, I…" she began, setting her cup back on the saucer again. "I've said some horrible things to you."
"Which ones?" Levi threw back casually. His sarcasm was an attempt to lighten the mood, but Angel bit her lip to hold back further tears.
"That thing I said, about - about real brothers," she whispered sadly.
"I'm really sorry. It eats at me every day that I said that. Every time I think about it, I just… I know I've wronged you both terribly and you've always been so good to me. You've been in no way less than a real brother and you didn't deserve for me to -"
"What?" Levi interrupted. "That? Are you still thinking about that?"
"Yes…?" Angel sniffled tearfully.
"Are you stupid? Didn't you apologize already?"
"I apologized to Salt, not to you," she attempted, but Levi waved his hand in dismissal.
"Same thing. Among friends, you don't apologize more than once."
Angel felt helpless tears of gratitude surge forth and Levi pushed a tissue box towards her.
"For your information, Angel, words aren't that big a deal. They're just sounds. You had a rough spot and acted like a brat. So what? It's over and you said you're sorry. Stop dwelling on it."
Angel nodded and wiped at her eyes, grateful beyond words.
"But if you let your tea get cold, you will have something to apologize for," Levi warned. "Drink up."
Angel laughed through her tears as she lifted the cup to her lips, just as Salt entered the kitchen.
"Angel! What happened? What did that asshole do?" Salt hurried to her friend's side, concerned that far from feeling better, Angel was still crying despite the minutes that had passed.
"It's nothing, Salt," Angel patted her shoulder. "These are good tears. Promise."
"Is that so?" Salt asked doubtfully, looking to Levi for reassurance.
"Angel's spending too much time with you again. Crying over everything." He rose to his feet and gestured towards the chair he had abandoned. "Sit down. I'll make you a cup, too."
"Let me see your hand," Salt argued instead, taking his right hand in both of hers. "This looks like it hurts." She lifted concerned, brown eyes to him, resting a cool palm over his reddened knuckles.
"Stop making it a big deal. It's nothing." He held her concerned gaze with aloof, unruffled grey eyes. It was clear to Angel that despite his dismissive claims of the contrary, he was touched by her concern. She propped her chin on her hand and watched the two of them.
She had always admired their relationship. How easily they communicated with one another, despite their differences. How readily they supported each other. How cute they were. To think that Salt was a shadow nymph and Levi a simple human. That knowledge made their solid relationship all the more endearing. It made her long for something just like it. She imagined it was herself for one fraction of a moment, clinging to Itachi's hand and looking up into his eyes in concern, and him looking down at her…
She shook her head as if to banish the wayward thought and returned to her tea. She was doing it again! Although she had promised herself not to! She rubbed at her temples, censuring herself anew as Salt slid into the seat opposite.
"Are you okay, Angel?"
"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just stupid." Angel waved her concerns away and turned to give her friend her full attention.
"What happened out there?" Salt wanted to know. "What did he do to you?" The angry scowl on her face gave Angel the impression Salt was not quite done with Cain. The two of them had always hated each other, but just how much Salt despised the blond doctor had neither dawned on her nor seemed justified until that moment.
"How did you know?" Angel asked instead. "That he was like this?"
Levi had suggested as much, that it had been obvious to them from the onset that Cain was capable of hurting her. Why hadn't she seen it? What had she missed?
"It was in his eyes, Angel." Salt frowned. "Always in those disgusting eyes when he looked at you. No respect. No appreciation for your time or attention. Acting like he was entitled to you and not like you're the best thing that ever happened to him. It pissed me off to no end."
Angel blinked at Salt's coarse language, recalling how formally the older woman had spoken at the beginning of their acquaintance. For Salt to resort to foul language only proved further how much she despised the unconscious man lying on the floor of the tea shop.
"I understand." Angel nodded. She had not expected Cain to shower her with praise, to admire or adore her. She had only been looking for a distraction, one he had been more than willing to provide. But Salt would notice. Of course she would. She would want any man in Angel's life to love her with a similar intensity as Salt herself did.
"He didn't want me to break up with him and went a little crazy, but I'm alright," she offered in explanation, before adding thoughtfully, "Because you guys were there."
"Thanks, Salt. Guess I should have listened to you." She rubbed her arm wearily, all the mistakes of recent months still catching up with her.
"Water under the bridge," Salt reassured, sensing another apology incoming. "All's well that ends well. As long as you weren't hurt. And besides, Levi knocking his lights out?" She sighed and leaned forward to stare starry eyed at the man pouring her tea. "Definitely one of his finest moments."
Angel could not help but laugh, and Salt soon joined in as well. It was ridiculous. It had been scary, but with good friends at her side, she would somehow make it through all of this. It would be okay. They'd figure it out together.
The sound of a blaring siren approaching filled the kitchen as Levi set Salt's tea in front of her.
"That must be the ambulance," Salt noted, getting up, but Levi pressed a hand to her shoulder pushing her firmly back in her chair.
"Drink your tea. I'll take care of it."
"But!" He was already turning to leave, and Salt reached out, catching a desperate hold of his sleeve. "Let me, please."
He looked at her over his shoulder, "Take a look at your face, stupid. Anyone sees how ecstatic you are about his condition and any claims of self-defense will fly out the window."
"But I," she swallowed thickly, still clinging to his sleeve. "I don't want you getting in trouble."
Levi lifted a hand to her face, causing her breath to catch in her throat - he usually wasn't one for any display of affection in public. Suddenly, he flicked her forehead, causing her to release his sleeve and press a hand to the stinging surface. "I'm not going to get in trouble. Drink your tea and keep Angel company."
Salt watched him go and rubbed her forehead, still biting her lip in concern. He had worked so hard to establish a new life for himself. What if Cain tried to sue him? What if they called the police on him? What if he was tried for assault?
Angel watched her friend's open concern quietly. Why was Salt so worried about Levi getting in trouble? Angel recalled how straightforwardly he had been willing to speak of both death and murder, as well as his surprising, inexplicable presence at the police station. She recalled how curiously skilled he had been with a knife as he fought off the hounds the other day.
Policemen are not your friends.
Levi was a human, they had said, but that did not mean he didn't have his own share of secrets, Angel realized. For the first time in their acquaintance, Angel found herself wondering just what they were that made him so calm in the face of catastrophes.
Angel reached out and gingerly patted Salt's hand, hoping to offer her some of the comfort she so often received herself.
"He'll be fine, Salt. He's smart. He knows what he's doing."
Salt lifted dark eyes to her friend, before placing her other hand on top of Angel's with a small smile.
"Yeah, you're right. Thank you, Angel."
The two friends sipped at their tea and spoke of the recent events in their lives, their concerns, their dreams, and their fears before the conversation devolved into the more mundane. The new ice cream shop that opened on the corner. The movie neither of them had gotten around to seeing. A book so good Angel could not believe Salt hadn't read it yet. Until all thoughts of the chaotic happenings looming over their heads were banished and forgotten and they were two simple girls living simple lives, enjoying a simple friendship.
The steady beeping of the vital signs machine filled the air, monitoring the heart-rate of the man who lay unconscious within the hospital bed. Plastic tubes were attached to his arms and an oxygen mask had been placed over his face to aid in his breathing.
The hooded figure waited for the right moment to slip surreptitiously into the empty room, knowing that time was of the essence, that much depended upon the successful execution of their visit. Approaching the bed, cold, calculating, shadow-concealed eyes regarded the prone, fair-haired man.
For months he had worked tirelessly to secure the young mortal woman's affections - only for his fruitless attempts to be foiled with a finality that had resulted in the maiden spurning him once and for all, leaving no further option than to initiate an alternative, more forceful plan.
Thin lips curled into a disdainful smirk. A useless fool he had turned out to be, indeed.
"What a disappointment humans are…" The hissed words hung ominously in the air. "But perhaps, if you became more…"
Yes. Surely he would be of greater value, of further potential, able to be of benefit to their designs at last.
The figure lifted their right hand, and produced a long, slender syringe from beneath the sleeve of their cloak and without hesitation, its contents were injected into the unconscious man's right arm before his visitor swiftly took their leave.
AN: Hope you guys had your ice cream! XD
Reviews are gold and much appreciated!
