"Birds of Pray"
Chapter 8
"Birds and Monkeys"
Katherine was awakened by Greg bending over her, kissing her.
"I have to go, Katie-Kate," he murmured. He smelled of soap and shampoo and aftershave.
She moaned and rubbed her eyes. "It's still dark… what time is it?"
"Six. I have to get going."
"Mmm, right," she agreed. "Want me to make coffee?"
"Nah, but thanks. I have to go home and change… the new partner can't show up in a tee shirt and sweat pants, and I don't have any other clean clothes here."
"All right," she agreed, sitting up. "I'll walk you out."
The bedroom was not so dark that she couldn't see him grin. "Better put something on first… unless you want to repay Gabe for that show he gave us last night!"
She laughed sleepily. "That's not on my list of Things To Do."
Greg shook his head. "He's one weird guy, Katie."
"I know." She fumbled around in the dark until she found her robe. "Let's go."
After kissing Greg goodbye, Katherine went back upstairs to get ready for the day. Not that she had much on the agenda now that she wasn't working, but she didn't feel right about going back to bed. And anyway, she was awake now.
She crept silently down the hallway, pausing as she passed the spare bedroom. She wondered if Gabriel was in there, writing on the walls… or perhaps he was doing something else equally unfathomable that she didn't have enough imagination to picture.
There was no light coming from the crack under the door. Could angels see in the dark? she wondered. It was impossible to tell even if he was in there, let alone what he might be up to. She certainly wasn't going to knock and find out.
With a sigh, she continued on to her own bedroom.
Freshly showered and dressed for the day, Katherine made herself a pot of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table with her PowerBook to read about birds and molting.
A mere twenty minutes later, she was ready to bang her head repeatedly against the keyboard.
Molting, it turned out, makes many birds itchy, uncomfortable, moody, and irritable. "Yeah, because Gabriel needs something to make him more difficult to deal with," she told the computer sarcastically. "That's just terrific." She looked up at the ceiling. "Thanks a lot!" she called Heavenward, and got a sudden mental image of a luminous Being looking down on her, laughing. "It's not funny," she muttered.
She was still reading about feathers and molting when Gabriel came strolling into the kitchen. "Good morning, Katherine. I smelled coffee."
She watched him get a mug from the cupboard and pour himself a cup. "I didn't know you were here," she finally said.
"I wasn't," he replied, sitting down across from her. While she was puzzling this out, he pointed at her computer. "Anything interesting?"
"No," she said, shutting it hastily. "Frustrating, mostly."
"Huh."
"Listen, Gabriel – I'm really sorry about last night." She felt her cheeks flame at the memory, but he didn't seem at all embarrassed.
"Aaaah, what're you gonna do?" he asked rhetorically, shrugging. "Stuff happens, right? No big deal."
"Yeah…I guess. Hey, you want some eggs?" she asked, recalling something she'd read a moment ago.
He shrugged. "Sure."
She got out the skillet and the eggs and made him a half dozen, scrambled. "This'll make you feel better," she murmured as she slid them out onto a plate. "I hope."
"Aren't you having any?" he asked with a frown as she put the plate in front of him.
"Not this batch," she said, handing him a fork. "This one's special, for you."
His eyebrows went up. "Why, thank you, Katherine." He took a bite of eggs and chewed… and frowned. "They're crunchy," he said through a mouthful of eggs. "I think maybe you got some shells in here."
"Oh, I know. This website – " She opened her computer and turned the screen towards him, " – says that when your bird molts, you should feed him scrambled eggs with the shells in them. Look… it says it right there," she continued, pointing at the screen. "It has to do with protein and minerals and growing feathers."
He was looking from Katherine to the screen and back again, disbelief written all over his face. "But Katherine…" he finally said, "I'm not a bird."
She shrugged. "You molt like one."
"But I'm not a bird," he repeated.
She held up her hands helplessly. "I wanted to help, but I didn't know what to do for you. And there are no websites about molting angels… at least, none that I could find." She gave a short laugh. "Maybe I should make one!"
He sat watching her for a moment, toying absently with the eggs on his plate. "So I'm your bird?" he finally asked. Something in his voice warned her to tread carefully.
"Um… I'm not sure what you – "
"Your exact words were, this website says that when your bird molts, you should feed him scrambled – "
She groaned, putting her head in her hands. "Gabriel – " she began.
"You think I'm your pet?" he continued, his voice suddenly rising in anger. "Because – believe me, Katherine – I am not! Anyone's! Pet!" He pounded a fist on the table to emphasize each word and she jumped in surprise, her head coming up so she could stare at him in wide-eyed terror.
This was the Gabriel she remembered from Chimney Rock – a volatile, violent man with piercing blue eyes that burned with a cold, angry fire.
When she spoke it was clear that she was frightened, verging on panicked, but trying to hide it. "Gabriel, I didn't mean it like that. I know you're not a pet, for Heaven's sake! I was just… just… trying to help you!"
Something – the look in her eyes, perhaps, or the way her voice shook with fear – reached him, and all of the fight seemed to go out of him. "Aaaah, it's all right, Katherine," he said, waving a hand. "I kind of… ah… overreacted."
She exhaled explosively and put a hand over her face, struggling to compose herself.
"See, sometimes I get a little… touchy… you know, when I'm molting."
Katherine held her tongue, for it didn't seem like the appropriate time to mention what else the website had said about birds in molt. Instead, she took a deep breath and nodded. "It's all right. I understand."
She felt like someone who had just been reminded that a wild thing that she'd thought had been tamed was still quite dangerous after all; this time, it had shown its teeth. Next time, it might bite.
"I didn't mean to scare you… I'm sorry," he continued apologetically. His outraged anger had evaporated as suddenly as it had appeared, replaced by this strange, subdued contriteness that seemed totally out of character for him. Dear God, molting is the angelic version of PMS! Katherine thought suddenly, and then had to struggle not to laugh.
"And I guess… it couldn't hurt to, you know, to eat these," he went on in that same unfamiliar tone, picking up his fork. "Who knows, might be good for me."
She didn't know quite what to say. "Well… I – I hope they're not too gross."
He speared some eggs on his fork and offered them to her across the table. "See for yourself."
"Oh, Gabriel…" she hesitated, "I don't know…"
"It won't kill you," he assured her. "And even if it does…" he shrugged. "I'm the Angel of Death!"
This made her laugh, releasing more of the tension between them. "All right," she agreed, and leaned forward in her seat so he could feed her.
He watched as she chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. "Well… it's not the worst thing I've ever eaten," she finally pronounced.
"But not the greatest," he finished for her. "Yeah."
"Look, you don't have to eat that if – "
"It's all right, Katherine… like I said, it might be good for me."
Does he really believe that, or is he just going to eat them as a show of penitence? she wondered, and then sighed, shaking her head. She would never understand him. "There's so much I don't know about you," she said aloud, sounding almost wistful.
"What's to know?" he asked, chewing his eggs: crunch, crunch, crunch. "I'm not that interesting."
"Oh yeah, right!" she said, laughing.
"I'm not," he insisted.
"Please! You're the Archangel Gabriel – "
"Yeah, I know."
" – and there are probably thousands of religious leaders all over the world who would give their right arms to have you sitting in their kitchens, eating their eggs – "
"I don't think I could eat that many eggs, Katherine."
" – and there are probably a million questions that I should be asking you – "
"So ask," he said, still chewing.
She stopped in mid-rant. "Really?"
"Sure." He shrugged. "Why not?"
"I didn't think… I don't know, I guess I thought you wouldn't want to answer stupid questions from a monkey."
"Aaaah, silly little monkey… I'm your bird." He smiled. "Ask whatever you want."
She laughed. "Birds and monkeys… we should open a zoo!"
"Yeah… or a sideshow," he suggested, making her laugh harder. "So, Katherine… what do you want to know?"
She blinked. "Anything?"
He shrugged. "Sure. I've caused you so much trouble… I figure I owe you something!"
This was an unbelievable opportunity, possibly one that had never been offered to another human being in the history of Time.
"Gee, Gabriel… let me think." She took a breath, trying to gather her thoughts. "OK… how about… I thought you and Simon were dead… I even saw Lucifer kill you! So how are you both still alive?"
He smiled. "When my kind come here, to this plane – Earth – we become mortal. We can be killed, but we don't die. The energy that makes us what we are returns to our own plane of existence."
She frowned. "Don't take this the wrong way, but… all that trouble over God giving humans souls… and yet what you're describing sounds an awful lot like a soul to me, Gabriel."
"Yeah, but our energy can be destroyed. We can be wiped from existence, forever. You saw it, Katherine… Thomas's vision… fields of angels, impaled on stakes, dead, dying – "
"I remember," she interrupted with a shudder. "It was horrible!"
"That was our place, and those angels that you saw…" He shook his head. "Your kind – the ensouled – can't be destroyed. Not here on this plane, and not on ours. Not even in Hell… though the people who end up there probably wish things were different. You are truly immortal." He smiled sadly. "It's too bad that so few of you realize it. You wouldn't be so afraid of death if you knew."
"I'm not afraid of death, Gabriel," she said softly. "I'm afraid of how I'll die. I don't want to suffer through years of illness… cancer… chemo… there are so many horrible ways to die." She gave a humorless laugh. "Guess that's why the Angel of Death is also the Angel of Mercy, huh? Sometimes ending life is the most merciful thing to do."
He nodded. "Yeah."
She hesitated for a moment, and then spoke. "Gabriel… will you promise me something?"
"If I can."
"Promise me you won't let me suffer. My mother… well, you probably know how she died. Bone cancer. It's not something I'd wish on my worst enemy."
"I know," he agreed.
"Tell me – " she began.
He held up his hand. "I know what you're gonna ask. Why don't I take people who are suffering, who have no hope."
"Yeah, that's pretty much what I want to know."
"Because I can't – not until The Boss says it's their time."
"But why does He allow it? Why does he let people suffer when you could just – "
"I don't know!" he suddenly exploded. "It's all part of His Plan, and I don't get to know the details. I just get to be a good little angel – " his voice became bitter, as though he were mockingly repeating something he'd been told long ago. " – and do what I'm told. That's who – what – I am."
She was silent for a long moment in the face of this outburst. Finally, she spoke. "That must be very frustrating," she said quietly, but her mind was racing, trying to grasp the implications of what he was telling her.
"Yeah, it is," he agreed, sounding more like himself. "It's very frustrating."
"Well," she said with a sigh, "I guess it's kind of comforting to know that we humans aren't the only ones He's left in the dark. Comforting – and scary! I thought that you of all people would have the answers, Gabriel. I thought you'd be able to explain it all to me."
He shook his head. "No. I wish I could, but…"
"I know. So… I guess we just have to trust that He knows what He's doing." She smiled at him, gave a little shrug. "We have to have faith."
He looked surprised. "You know… that's such a hard thing for some of us angels to get through our thick, stubborn skulls… and you, Katherine – you got it right away!"
"Not bad for a silly little monkey, huh?" she asked, still smiling.
"No, not bad at all," he agreed softly.
They were quiet for a moment. "Can I ask you something else?"
"You can ask me as many things as you want, Katherine," he assured her, taking another bite of eggs.
"Where did God come from?"
Gabriel stopped chewing and stared at her. "I… I don't actually know," he finally said, swallowing. "In fact… no one does."
Katherine was incredulous. "And you never asked?"
He shrugged. "Naaah, it just… never occurred to me." He became thoughtful. "Lucifer might've asked Him… you know, he always questioned everything. Me, I don't ask questions."
"But you didn't just docilely go along with everything either, did you?" she asked knowingly.
"No, and I still don't. So far, though, The Boss hasn't complained."
"Maybe He's just glad to have you back."
"Aaah, maybe," he agreed. "So what else do you want to know?"
Katherine spent the next several hours peppering him with questions. At one point, he dumped out the contents of a saltshaker onto the table and used his finger to sketch a quick map of the Celestial Spheres for her.
"And this is the Seventh Heaven," he told her, pointing at his rudimentary map. "Understand, this isn't drawn to scale or anything."
She laughed. "Right."
"This is our place… me and the rest of my choir. The seraphim."
"You sing?" she asked, her eyebrows going up.
"Sometimes… yeah, but that's not what I meant by choir. That's what you call a bunch of angels."
"Really? Not a flock or a gaggle?"
He looked up at her and saw her teasing smile. "Not a gaggle," he agreed, matching her smile. He went on to outline the hierarchy of the divine beings, from the seraphim down to the mere angels.
"And you're a seraph," she said, running her finger through the salt and licking it absently.
"Yeah." He took a sip of coffee and leaned back in his chair. "Now it's your turn, Katherine."
"What?"
"You can answer a question for me now."
She laughed. "All right. But I can't imagine anything that I know would be interesting to you."
"You underestimate yourself, Katherine. There's plenty that you know that's interesting to me. For example, how to make eggs is interesting to me."
"I can show you," she offered, half-rising.
"No, sit," he said, motioning for her to remain where she was. "That's not what I want to know right now."
"All right."
He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "That question I asked you yesterday morning, Katherine. What's your answer… would you have done it?"
Katherine felt the slow blush creep up her cheeks. She didn't really want to answer, but after he'd spent so much time answering her questions, she felt it would be unfair to refuse.
"Yes," she whispered. "I'd have done it."