Welcome to chapter 31.
This is where things begin to get complicated.

"Fourteen, fifteen…sixteen. Sixteen? Maybe sixteen…sixteen maybe, sixteen and a half…maybe. Gah! Where is it?!"

A loud clattering noise rang out through the entire lower console deck as a certain Time Lord tried to regain control of his legs.

Clara frowned, throwing her jacket over the TARDIS' newest addition- a Georgian coat-stand. It had been a gift from a Cheemian prince who had a penchant for collecting Earth artefacts.
Prince Silas had been desperate to show his gratitude after his home-land had been saved from an invading hoard of Pyrovyles who wanted to turn his beloved treelike citizens into charcoal for their own nutrition.

First, he had offered his own hand in marriage to Clara- which she politely refused.
The Doctor politely declined the Prince's offer too- after a few minutes of careful consideration.

"Photosynthesis is a nightmare for someone who wants to keep up a healthy, well-balanced diet," he had mused. "I'd balloon up like an Adipose with the swelling ailment of Gairn Belt four and believe me, no one wants to see that. Least of all me."

So they had happily and humbly settled with a piece of furniture made from the noble bones of one of Silas' many Earth ancestors.

Since their return from Cheem, however, the Doctor's behaviour had progressed to become quite a bit more erratic than usual. First, he had proposed brewing some tea before the TARDIS landed again but no sooner had Clara managed to locate an ordinary (working) teapot, the Doctor seemed to have completely lost interest in the idea.

Now, he was rootling around the TARDIS' inner and outer storage units with the ungainly air of a territorial badger digging its set.

"Are you-?" Clara began to ask, forced to duck abruptly as (what looked like) a pair of leather bellows flew past her head, followed by a pair of cricket trousers. "Are you looking for something?"

The Doctor's head resurfaced from the chest that he had been digging through only for his mouth to let out a string of incoherent mumbles before he went back to what he was doing.

"What was that?" his rather exasperated companion felt the need to ask, seeking a level surface to put the teapot down upon.

The Doctor resurfaced again, this time with a rather odd looking, double-headed recorder clenched between his teeth. "I –on't –oh –ot I –oo- in –or."

"Come again? For those of us who only speak English but have an A Level in French," she prompted him, stepping over a nearby trunk and finally managing to find a safe, even table-top on which to rest her teapot.

"I don't know what I'm looking for," he repeated, hair askew, eyes darting and mouth slightly lop-sided.

"Ok…then why are you tearing the TARDIS asunder looking for it, if you don't know what it is?"

"Because it's missing. It needs to be found. Begs to be found. Demands to be found. It was here and now it's lost and I must find it! But!" He looked around the various implements of storage that surrounded his legs. "But! I have absolutely, positively no idea what it is…"

"Well, if you don't know what it is," Clara challenged, examining the contents of a nearby trunk. "How do you know it's even lost?"

"Because…because…well, can't you feel it?" the Doctor returned, slightly scandalised as he adjusted his left suspender strap back on to his shoulder. "Can't you feel it? No, no of course you can't feel it. You lot can't feel anything- it's why you're always so happy…no, no, no…something is lost. It was here. It was definitely here but now it isn't."

"So…what? You think something disappeared from the TARDIS?" Clara looked around, (partly as if she was expecting to instantly recognise what exactly was gone).

"Disappeared? No…no, disappeared implies that it just vanished. That it just ceased to be. This object definitely still is being. It is definitely still…appeared. It just…isn't…here anymore!" He groaned, knuckling his forehead. "Think, think, think…it was here and now it's gone…what is it? Oh! Oh…"

He dropped his nose to the edge of the TARDIS console, skimming the silver rim with wide-eyed zeal that Clara didn't know whether to laugh at or be incredibly afraid of.

"Something…something that was here…something…flat…" He frowned, pinching the bridge of his nose before pressing it inwards- giving himself somewhat of a comical snout. "This used to be so much easier when this thing was big and long. I miss my long nose."

"A plate?" Clara suggested. "A hanky? A piece of paper?"

"Paper…paper…paper…paper sounds right. Not completely right but sort of right."

His companion took a moment to consider the information at hand, taking a wary step in the Time Lord's direction. "A book, then?"

The Doctor stood bolt upright. "A book. Yes! No. But yes!. But no…not a book…" He paced in a clockwise circle, wringing his hands like a conductor trying to guide an invisible orchestra. He then repeated this strange mime in an anti-clockwise circle. "…it was a book...but not a book! A thing with paper and a cover and writing…"

"A diary," Clara interjected, deliberately stepping in the course of his walking. "You said writing. No one says writing if it's an ordinary novel. If it were typed and published, you would have said something like…words or…or text…"

"A diary," the Doctor echoed, his eyes widening slowly. "A diary…yes…like a diary…" His vision began to grow unfocused. "Like a diary…but not a diary…more like a…" His eyelids lowered for a moment before snapping open, his jaw growing taut and his lips quivering. "…a notebook."
His lips pursed and his nostrils flared.

There was a brief silence, during which Clara took the liberty to process the "conversation" that they had just shared and she was just opening her mouth to query the significance of this notebook.
Then all at once, the Doctor's face turned a plum, purplish red, the lines that marked his forehead became WWI trenches and his eyes blackened with a thunderous rage that Clara had only glimpsed once before.

"….RIVER!"

Before Clara could do a single thing to stop him, the Doctor had dived back into his piles of trunks and stacks of paper, tearing into them with the desperation of a parched-man digging for an oasis in the desert.
He emerged with an angered shout on his lips and an old-fashioned rotary dial phone in his hand.

"SHE TOOK IT! I CAN'T BELIEVE SHE TOOK IT! WHY DID I THINK FOR A SECOND THAT I COULD TRUST HER!?"

He slammed the phone down upon the TARDIS console, prompting Clara to take three or four steps backwards in retreat.

"Doctor, what do you- ?"

But her efforts were largely fruitless as the Doctor was already furiously threading the rotary dial, muttering under his breath, his chin quivering with every enraged twitch of his lips.

Sighing slightly, Clara decided that it was properly better for her own sanity to allow him to have his moment and to quiz him when he'd calmed down properly.

"Hello?! Is this StormCage Prison!? Yes! This is-! YES. I know this is outside visiting hours!"

Clara made her way back up to the TARDIS' upper decks, wandering back over to the coat-stand and wondering if she'd remembered to collect her mobile phone from the Cheemian guards. It wasn't that she would be in dread of a second trip to the Forests of Cheem; it was simply that being offered a position of royalty once was tempting while being offered a position of royalty twice was virtually impossible to say no to.

"Didn't you hear me?! I said I'm the Doctor! You know full well who I want to speak to! I will lower my voice when you stop being so difficult!"

Clara let out a small breath of relief when she felt the warm weight of her phone in the pocket of her coat. However, it was the Doctor's coat pocket that instantly caught her eye. Something inside of it appeared to be glowing- a faint blue light occasionally permeating the material in odd rhythmic pulses.

"SHE'S OUT?! What do you mean she's out?! How could she be out?! She's a prisoner!"

The companion felt tempted to touch the glowing object- even just through the cloth of the material. However, more than a year of travelling with the Time Lord had taught her that shoving ones hand into an enclosed space with the intent of touching an unknown, glowing object was an exceptionally stupid thing to do.

"Well, if you just did your job and stopped her from leaving her cell, maybe it wouldn't be such an issue!"

Opting for acting on caution rather than curiosity, she turned back to the ranting, raving Doctor, trying to find a good interval to catch his attention.

"I wouldn't have to take this tone with you if you knew how to keep one blooming prisoner in her blooming cell for a few blooming hours! NO! I would NOT be content to be put on hold!"

"Doctor-?"

"I most certainly do not have to discuss the nature of my business with Professor Song with you! I…I…hello? Have you hung up on me? Have you actually hung up on me?!"

"Doctor, could you just-?"

He slammed the phone back down on to the dial box with a kind of uncharacteristic, graceless rage before pinching the bridge of his nose. "She took it. I can't believe she took it. I left her alone with it and I thought she wouldn't take it but she did it- she took it and now it's gone because she took it."

She frowned deeply, trench-lines starting to mar her own forehead. "So, River took something of yours. A…a…notebook of yours? That's awful. Really awful…but there's…there's something that you should probably-…"

"I can't believe it. No. No. I can believe it. I can most definitely believe that she did this and that is the worst part of all. I should have seen this coming and I didn't! Why didn't I? I'll tell you why. It's because I'm thick! Old and thick! Old, old, old and thick, thick, thick!"

"Doctor, if you could just-!"

"She comes here and she mucks about with everything as she sees fit- and I let her! Why do I let her?!"

"DOCTOR!"

Clara slammed her hand down upon the TARDIS dashboard, eyes practically blazing only to be met with the Time Lord's wide-eyed perplexed stare as a pinstriped shoulder slowly led him to rotate on the spot until he was facing her once more.

"Hm?"

Gritting her teeth and counting down from twenty, Clara brought herself back to composure before speaking. "I understand that River taking this book from you was quite the breach of trust and I'm very sorry for that but there's something that I really think you need to take a look at and it's in the pocket of your coat." The woman another deep inhale before rolling back her shoulders and adding: "It's glowing."

The Doctor quirked a faint eyebrow, his confused mouth only contorting further. "Glowing?" He made his way back down the steps to the TARDIS' main floor, a slight growl still accenting his voice as he grumbled: "Humans…always craving attention…I'll never be done saving you all…"

Happening upon the glow emanating from his coat pocket, the Doctor paused for a moment, tilting his head to examine the oddly coloured light. "What is that?"

Clara sighed, resisting the urge to smack her own forehead in frustration. "If I knew that I wouldn't have needed to interrupt your little tantrum just there…"

Gingerly the Doctor reached into the pocket and kept sifting through until he was elbow deep into its seams. "Hmpf…" He eventually withdrew to produce the psychic papers. The little black, leather booklet seemed innocuous as always, save for the fact that the pages now appeared to be illuminated with a faint aqua hue, the colour dulling and intensifying with each slightly-rhythmic, slightly-sporadic pulse of the glow.

"Why's it doing that?" Clara queried, moving closer once she had ascertained the safety of the situation. "I mean it doesn't …usually do that, does it?"

The Doctor shook his head slowly, his eyes turning to dinner plates as he cautiously peeled the booklet apart revealing the brightly glowing surface. As soon as his thumb settled upon the page, however, the brilliant light dulled back to a plain white marked only by the wobbly scrawl of what appeared to be a red crayon.

If the Doctor's eyes had been thunderous before, they were now hollow, his hand shaking as he dropped the psychic papers to the floor and immediately turned on heel. Clara felt her heart begin to throb uncomfortably as she watched the Doctor dash back to the TARDIS console.

"What's wrong?" she called over, stooping to pick up the papers. "Is this something about River too?"

"River can wait!" the Doctor shouted back, not even looking up as he proceeded to furiously shift levers. He moved with the kind of agonised frenzy one would expect to see from a drowning man who knew how to swim: the Time Lord was aware of his situation yet helpless in demeanour, uncertain in a task that should have been easy to him.

Hesitantly, Clara folded back the cover of the psychic paper to examine the message had prompted such a response from her dear friend. As her eyes traced the unruly handwritten scrawl, she felt a perturbing coldness wash over her- her breath stilling in her throat.

"Hello Doctur. It is Abbie Drake.
Pleese come and save me."

He was looking healthier now.
His skin was marble-smooth once more, each rise and curve of his arms and chest seemed to dip and swell with the kind of perfection that only a Renaissance-fingered artist could achieve. The crevices that had once lined his abdomen had all but vanished and the silken robes that hung in the form of distinguished toga across his Goliathan frame had returned to the deceptive appearance of draped satin.

"So it's actually part of your skin?" Cassidy asked, sitting at the kitchen table and placing one of her files down beside her breakfast bowl. Studying at the table was an unfortunate hobby that she'd picked up during her A-Levels and carried all the way through University.

"Precisely," the Archangel replied, looking rather odd now that he was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs. Forced to angle himself sideways so that his restored-to-magnificence marble plumage could comfortably fit within the human furniture's wooden frame, the Lonely Assassin looked almost comically out of place. "What did you believe it to be?"

"I dunno," Cassidy mumbled through mouthfuls of bran flakes, sifting through her biography of Charles Dickens for inaccuracies. "I guess I just thought it was some kind of cloth that you were wearing. I mean, you said you could take it off."

"I can," Michael confirmed. "It is part of an outer hide of skin that is simply used to protect the less hardy of my physical extremities…"

The archaeologist felt incredibly childish for snorting with laughter into her cereal.
"Less hardy of your physical extremities?"

When she looked up at the Angel, he wore an expression of bemusement- one eyebrow arched and a smirk across his thin lips. "Do you doubt my virility, human?"

Cassidy felt a brief shudder run through her shoulders but she shook it off, smiling primly and determined not to show a lick of insecurity. "Oh no. I imagine with the experience that you claim to have, Angel, there must be hundreds of little Michael-cherubs running around out there…"

Michael made a noise similar to that of an Alsatian whose tail had just been pulled. "This is most definitely not the case. I have been careful with the times I chose to indulge. It is always a matter of timing…"

Cassidy pretended to gag on her cereal, flicking her eyes upward to see that Michael's gaze had wandered from her. "I guess that's one way of putting it."
Her file slipped from the table and she bent over to pick it up.

"You sound uncertain. Do human females not operate on a cycle of fertility?"

Cassidy rolled her eyes, biting back a slight laugh as she sat up straight once more. "Well, yes…but no…not…" She looked down into her bowl, realising that her spoon was missing. The woman's shoulders slumped and she sighed when she noticed that her Archangel companion had stolen the little silver implement. "Give it back."

"May I feed you?" he asked, his voice light and airy but painstakingly polite.

Cassidy frowned, folding her arms on the table and pursed her lips. "Say please."

"I fail to see the -…"

"Say please."

The living statue was quiet for the moment, frozen in a gesture of holding up the spoon in his stone fingers. Then he spoke, with a kind of formal humility that took Cassidy by surprise. "Please may I feed you?"

Cassidy stared at him for a moment, testing her eyes and marvelling silently at her own endurance before conceding with a nod. "You'd better be gentle." She closed her eyes and was instantly greeted with the feeling of a loaded spoon pressing against her lips.

It wasn't long before they had settled into a comfortable rhythm and between swallowing of cereal, Cassidy was able to speak. If Michael had very few traits in his favour, one of them was that he didn't scold her for speaking with her mouth full.

"Fascinating. You're the inner part of your throat moves as you masticate your food. For all the discord that you humans cause, your biology is the very pinnacle of harmony."

"Ooh is that a note of approval, I detect?"

"You detect my incredulity. Then again, I suppose across a multitude of physiological and cognitive impairments, evolution had to get eventually get something right."

"If you want to talk about evolutionary impairment, I'll kindly remind you that if I opened my eyes right now- you'd turn to stone."

"My quantum lock has been developed for the purpose of defence- an evolutionary trait that your kind lack in spades. If you were to look into my eyes for only a few seconds, I would be able to tear your mind in half…"

"And if I were to put a mirror in front of you- you'd be rendered helpless. Defence mechanism or not."

"Your kind worship the form that my kind take. They trust too easily."

"Your kind think that my kind are completely mindless herds of cattle. They underestimate us."

"And I believe I also told you that I find you to be a stronger individual than you are aware…"

Cassidy finished chewing another mouthful and swallowed before replying. "I guess there has to be one exception to the rule in every species."

"Are you referring to me being the exception or to you being the exception?"

The human woman gave a vague murmur, mulling over the question in her own mind as she opened her mouth expectantly to accept another spoonful of bran flakes.
He may have taken her by surprise once or twice but there was no doubt that Michael was still Michael. He was still the same narcissistic, domineering, sadistic and cruel alien monster whom she had unknowingly unearthed just about a month ago.
These pleasant little lulls meant nothing: they didn't erase anything that he had done.
It didn't change anything.
He hadn't changed.

Yet, the Michael who had so cruelly held her on a chain in the Summer Bank Hotel would never have reached forward to brush a lock of hair from her closed eyes, asking in a voice that sounded more like an ordinary human than a creature puppeteering an Angel:
"Are you alright?"

Cassidy flinched slightly at the feeling of his knuckles brushing her face and opened her eyes in time to catch him mid-reach. "I'm fine" she confirmed. "Just thinking."

"What burdens you?"

She rose, taking up the cereal bowl into her hand and dropping it into the sink at her back. "I don't know. I just think it's odd, you know? I mean…us. We're odd. One minute I'm doing everything I can to get away from you and you're driving me out of my mind and I'm terrified of you and the next…" Cassidy flinched when she realised that Michael was now standing right beside her, the spoon dangling over the sink, held precariously between his talons.

"The next?"

"The next, we're…doing this. We're just talking normally and acting normally as if none of it ever happened. I get so…bloody…comfortable around you sometimes…and I really shouldn't."

Cassidy massaged the bridge of her nose and the spoon fell into the bottom of the sink with a resounding clank.

"Do moments such as this upset you? I would have thought our lack of conflict would be as much a welcome release for you as it has been for me."

"It's not that it's not nice to be treated humanely or to not be constantly snapping at you…I just don't feel like we've…earned it. I don't feel like you've earned it…"

"It's all quite surreal…I shall admit that much."

She could feel the Archangel's gaze on her as she turned her back to collect her notes. For the first time in a long time, the weight of the unknown settled over Cassidy. A ripple of a tingling sensation lashed across the exposed skin of her neck as she bent over to lift her satchel on to her arm.

"You do realise," she heard the Archangel say, the volume giving no immediate cues to indicate whether or not he had moved closer to her. "That my opinion of you has changed greatly, Cassidy? You are aware of that, are you not? I now hold you in much higher regard than I had initially…"

She turned her head slightly, her eyebrows raised. "So I'm no longer your slave then? I'm no longer a lowly, lesser being?"

"I would not quite say that. The status of your species in the great rhythms of nature is quite fixed."
There was a small note of laughter in his voice that Cassidy detected. She wasn't sure whether she felt warmer or colder because of it.

"Well…good," she retorted tartly looking back over her shoulder in time to catch a smile on her once-beloved statue's stone lips. "Because I still think that you're a psychotic slave-driver so I'm glad that neither of our images of each other have been disrupted." Cassidy scooped up her house-keys from her side table. "Hurrah for consensus."

"If anything," the Archangel noted, watching Cassidy as she checked her bag for any last-minute forgotten items. "I am in disbelief at the fact that you can turn your back to me with such ease."

The human woman shrugged, gently easing her jacket on and lifting the strap of the satchel on to her shoulder. "We have to start trusting each other, I suppose. If I'm going to help you sort out your dad, the way you helped me to sort out mine." Cassidy paused for a moment. "Thank you for that…by the way…"

"It benefitted us both mutually. I was replenished and you are now free of his cruelty. Your father was a truly despicable half-breed specimen."

"You've got that right…" Cassidy's knuckles turned a spectral white as her grip clenched around the doorknob of her house. "Can't believe it took me this long to stand up to him."

"You were not given adequate opportunities to do so. Do not be so disheartened. Simply count yourself fortunate that you do not resemble him in any way, shape or form…"

She smiled very slightly with her back turned to him. "Thank you."
She found herself dithering in the hallway, leaning against the door-frame of the kitchen as she spoke. A sudden vivid memory of finding a red rose on that same kitchen table flashed at the forefront of her thoughts but it dissipated almost as quickly as it came.

"So…I suppose you don't resemble your father much either? I mean, you couldn't. If he were exactly like the great and perfect being that you are, you'd hardly want him dead…"

"…he and I are very alike, I have been told. Speaking with verity…I fear becoming him."

Michael's slightly wounded tone- paired with his confession of fear- took Cassidy by surprise and successfully corroded any steely cynicism that had previously underlay any of her comments.

"In…in what way are you like him?"
Part of her felt near to certain she already knew the answer to the question.

"The Archangel Nathaniel was always revered for his cruelty. He killed two of my older siblings…my brother Erza for being too weak- he claims, my sister Nenet for opposing one of his orders- he claims... I imagine his true motives centre on his envy of my mother's bond with her children. He was always unhealthily fixated on her…yet…from what I remember…poisonously sadistic in his treatment of my mother. He did not merely establish dominance over her…he destroyed her…he once tore feathers from her wings when a murmur began that she planned to desert him…" Frozen in a blank expression, Cassidy could only imagine that if Michael had been human, he would be trying to hide his face at this point. "Killing those of our own kind is an act of heresy. I have been able to do so without guilt and without restraint…and then when I consider the manner in which I treated you during our time among those at Summer Bank..."

Cassidy's mouth had become uncomfortably dry and this was exacerbated by the fact that she did not like the comparison that had just been drawn.
She offered him a dangerously twitchy smile, her eyes dropping downward.
"Yeah…well. I'm just a human, right? It's ok to push us around, isn't it? Careful, Michael…" she tried to laugh. "I…uh…I somehow doubt that the way your dad looked at your mum…like being obsessed…and everything…is anything like the way you look at..."

Her breathing had become uncomfortably loud and she stopped herself, realising the contradictory course of her own meandering thoughts.
Snapping her lips shut in a tight and very forced smile that didn't reach her eyes, Cassidy patted her pockets checking for her phone and keys. "I'm going to be late for work. I'd best head off, hadn't I?"

No sooner had Cassidy turned around, the hinges of the dining room doors groaned and Michael was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs in the hall.
By the time she reached the door, his voice was at her ear.

"Cassidy…what is the significance of daisies in your culture?"

She stopped in her tracks, utterly perplexed. "Daisies? I don't know…well, I suppose they're usually seen as a symbol of remembering…why?"

"Once when you were partly asleep, you asked me to bring you daisies so that you could make them into a chain…I have been trying to decipher what you could have meant by that but have been unable to make any semblance of coherence out of your words…"

"You usually give daisy chains to people that you want to remember…"

"In essence, you wish to remember me? That is what your statement would imply considering that you wished to make the chain for m-…"

"…I was dreaming, Michael. I know you lot don't dream but from the perspective of someone who's done it all her life- they don't always make sense." She looked up into the Archangel's blank, grey stare, sculpting her face into the most perfectly passive expression to mirror his. "We have to focus on what's real for now…and what's real is that you and I have to find some way to deal with what your clan has levelled at us."

"…at us?"

"Well…at you…but I'm rather in the line of fire right now, aren't I?"

"So it would appear."

His face was only a bare few inches from hers, one of his arms bracing his huge form against the wall at her back. A faintly edged silence hung between them as Cassidy tried to find a way to excuse herself out. Though- for whatever- reason, she seemed to have forgotten any civil or logical method or manner which one could use to end a conversation.
Her mind seemed to be completely overtaken with the task of staring at the delicate curve of Michael's smooth, glossy throat. She could vividly remember running her hand over those strong, perfectly sculpted rises and hollows- marvelling at the flawless shape of the bones, the lifelike quality of his skin as she tirelessly worked to restore him.

Cassidy had become painfully aware of the heat in her own face and the laboured volume of her own breathing by the time Michael spoke again.

"May I … kiss you?"

The question took Cassidy by surprise for a second time, effectively silencing her for a few tense moments. Her voice quivering as she spoke, she shook her head without taking her eyes from his face.

"…no."
Her face slowly creased, as a ripple of something jarring spread outward through her chest. "No…no. Michael…" She paused for a moment, shaping the words in her mouth before allowing herself to speak. "…even if we're currently managing to co-operate, this doesn't change anything…I still…I still hate you. I still haven't forgiven you and I don't think I'm ever going to…"

"Then smile for me," he beseeched her, his request punctuated by a strained desperate sounding growl. "Smile for me the way you once did. With real joy…"

She had never had Michael genuinely beg her for anything as powerful as it made her feel, there was something mildly terrifying about it. Michael- to her- had always been a statue in both appearance and demeanour. He was cold, solid, unmoving, unfeeling…certainly not vulnerable…

She forced herself to be cynical and let her eyes travel across the expanse of the morning-cloaked hallway before shrugging. "I don't see a forest of roses…and I'm going to be late if I don't get going now." She turned to the door, unlocking it and ducking under Michael's arm to let herself out. "So don't forget that Edmund and I are going to lunch today after my morning shift so when you see me head into town, don't freak out. The Indian place is pretty secluded anyway so it's not as though you won't be able to find a nice little vantage point across the street. As agreed, we'll sit near a window but just don't let Ed s-…"

"I will not be accompanying you today."

Cassidy found herself needing to grip her the doorframe at this revelation as she swivelled around to look at the Archangel once more.

"Y-You're letting…letting me go alone? Like you're not going to be watching?"

"Precisely."

"But-…"

"If we are to successfully eliminate the threat that my father poses, it is as you have said: we must begin to trust one another."

Cassidy could only offer a mute nod in response before leaving the house, her head swimming with thoughts on what had just transpired this morning.
She walked the length of the driveway, thinking about the contents of her bedroom drawer and whether or not she would ever reveal them to the Archangel.

However, this thought was interrupted by the sight of a white envelope sellotaped to the front gate of her house. She frowned, gingerly tugging the oddly placed item into her hand and cautiously opening the seal.
The envelope contained a plain piece of notepaper with a neatly written message:

Meet me outside Sparrow and Nightingale's at three.
It's important.
-River

Cassidy felt a stirring in her stomach- suddenly quite glad that hadn't chosen to have an exceptionally large breakfast that morning and significantly gladder that Michael had decided not to keep surveillance on her today.

"Away with you!" Karida snarled, unafraid to bat the offending fledgling aside with her claws exposed. Without much effort, she easily parried the younger Angel's attack and sent him tumbling backwards against the wall of the cave.

The gangly young male hissed back in response, bearing his teeth in the dark before customarily burying his face in crook of his arms. "Unfair! That was unfair, Angel Karida!"

"In true combat your opponents will not show you any kind of courtesy," she sneered in response, turning her back to him in the dark. "Your sisters were successfully able to land blows to my mid-section while you've yet to touch me before I touch you. Do not sulk! Return to your mother. I will see you again tomorrow…" She hissed at the sound of the fledgling's strangled yelping. "I told you not to sulk!"

Karida felt her quantum lock briefly flicker into effect as her own mother moved from the place where she had been sitting.
"You are far too harsh towards him," she remarked, slightly amused. "Zachael is the most diligent of Naamah's children, even if he's not the most agile…"

"With a firmer hand, he could be the most agile. Right now, he's a whining little whelp who expects to be worshipped without cause," Karida observed with mounting annoyance as she massaged her knuckles. "Are all those sired by wandering Archangels so self-righteous?"

Althea gave a small coo of laughter, shaking her head. "You had better enjoy your time throwing him around whilst you still can. In another few years, he'll be three or four times your size."

The older Weeping Angel heard her daughter shatter a nearby stalactite with a single blow.

"And even then, he'll still not be a fit match for me in combat."

Althea continued to smile learning back against the wall of the cave, folding her wings slightly. "He'll be a fine Archangel one day…a good potential mate for you, I daresay…"

Karida gave an irritated shriek. "Surely you jest! The day that I allow that miserable, little rogue to sire any number of cherubs with me is the day that the sky tears in two." With a single beat of her wings, Karida found a new perch atop a mighty wall of rock. "And I do not plan on making a mate of myself."

"It may not be your choice," Althea reminded her daughter, with a new quietness to her voice. "If Zachael were to choose you…"

"Let him try," Karida spat, running her talons along the stone wall at her side. "Let him try."

Althea sighed. "And if the Archangel Nathaniel ruled for you to submit to Zachael's wishes?"

Karida smiled, clenching her teeth. "All the more reason for me instil hated for me in him at a young age." She frowned and looked away. "And this is of course assuming that Nathaniel allows Zachael to live…he's physically weak. Nathaniel does not like weak…if only Iblis had been born a weakling."

The air became still around the two Angels.
Althea spread her own wings in the darkness and joined her daughter atop the rocky outcrop. Her eyes closed, she afforded Karida movement as she took her hand.

"You must be careful with how often you choose to use your claws, little bird. You shall wear them away, wasting them on your temper, if you are not careful."

"You have not called me little bird since I was a cherub, mother."

"You have not acted in the manner of a cherub for quite a long time…"

Karida's fingers closed around Althea's as she laughed quietly. She opened her mouth to offer a form of witty retort but quickly closed it again as the essence of another Angel met her senses.

"One of your sentries," Althea noted aloud, releasing her daughter at the realisation that duties demanded by vendetta were once again to beckon her away. Her disdain was inevitable, necessary and only barely registered by the young Lonely Assassin who slipped from her embrace.

Karida moved to meet the returned Angel and no sooner had she received word of her brother's current state of being, she had sought out her father's counsel.

"Archangel Nathaniel…Father…he is alone. Vulnerable. Still recovering. He would never sustain an attack by our-…"

Still in a low-set genuflect, Karida had not anticipated the weight of her father's arm suddenly connecting with her upper back.
She cried out, winded and in pain as she was forced to lower herself further upon the floor.

"I gave you deliberate orders not to arrange any further surveillance on your brother," Nathaniel growled, his voice quivering with rage. "Yet, you have disobeyed me and now continue to force the matter…"

Karida attempted to lift herself from the ground, her limbs shaking and suddenly locked to stone by the Archangel's harsh glower. "I-I…did n-not mean to sh-show you any disrespect but I…but it angers me to know…know that the despicable, evil creature wh-who…attempted to overthrow you and no less, still p-plots against you…lives and breathes free…"

Her quantum lock lifted but her relief was short-lived as her father delivered a second blow to her exposed back.

"You suggest that not only am I ignorant to the current threat that Iblis poses but that my own efforts are insufficient without your intervention? Is that correct, Karida?"

"N-no…no, F-Father…"

"You act without intelligence or restraint and with no respect for the orders of your superior."

"I…I…"

"We have already opted to undertake an initiative that your actions may very well have damaged."

"Oh, Nathaniel. There is no cause for such distress. The construction of any effective strategy is a difficult and challenging task. Not every Angel is suited to the role of tactician." The patronising, saccharine crooning of Ariel's voice was enough to make Karida's temper flare. "And you need not worry. Your daughter's somewhat brash actions will do nothing to upset any of my plans. I have taken previous counter-measures to what I predicted would be some…resistance on her part…"

"Stay out of this," Karida snarled in Ariel's direction, her pain eclipsed by her mounting rage. "This is not your battle, this is not your clan and you are not of our blood…"

Ariel laughed. "Nathaniel, she bites like a rheptree beast! Surely she has inherited your temper. I only hope that if I were to bear any cherubs for you- they would not be so easily provoked to this kind of juvenile ferality."

Abandoning tradition and formality, Karida's head snapped upward and she glared at the lower folds of Ariel's exo-skin- sealing her into stone. "You are unworthy of my sire's attentions! Do not ever insinuate otherwise!"

"I believe that is a judgement that your sire must make…"

"Do not speak!"

"Angel Karida..." Nathaniel began to intervene.

Uncaring, the young Angel quickly dissolved into hysteria. "Father, why do you dismiss the observations of your own kin who revere and care for you, yet you hold in such high regard the opinions of this wandering wretch?!"

The full unforgiving weight of Nathaniel's arm swung down upon the length of his daughter's spine, effectively shocking her into immobility before he grabbed her by the back of the neck and wrenched her up into the air.

"You dare to question my judgement?!"

Karida shrieked, whimpering and struggling to keep her eyes closed as terror shot through her like a bolt. Her father had been quite violent with her before but she had never seen him react so quickly with such a level of rage.

"Nathaniel, stop."
Althea's voice- firm in its plea but in no way pleading in tone- sounded out across the cavern.

In an instant, the grip around Karida's throat loosened and the gasping, shuddering Angel fell to the stone floor.

"A blessing upon your wings, Angel Althea," Nathaniel said far too lightly. Without missing a single beat, he turned in the dark to face his first and primary mate, delivering a swift kick to his eldest living daughter's ribs. "To what do I owe your much-coveted audience?"

His eyes fell upon Althea's form in the darkness; he did not need to see her properly to know where she was standing and that she had her eyes covered.
His gaze locked her into stone- forcibly ensuring that she could not move to aid their struggling daughter.

"Cease this needless violence," Althea ordered sharply, seemingly undeterred by Nathaniel's assertion of dominance. "It achieves nothing when waged against your own flesh and blood."

"My own flesh and blood?" Nathaniel gave a cruel laugh. "You, Althea, speak as though your brood are ones that I would proudly stand aside as my own. Even the one that showed that most promised has regressed to the tepid waters of foolhardiness. She almost proves as feeble willed as her other siblings and her treachery is just as evident…"

"I would never betray y-you as a-a-any of th-the others d-did. My only intention h-has b-been to t-to help y-…argh!"

Nathaniel reduced his daughter to silence once more with a fierce kick to her upper ribcage. The placing of the blow was certainly deliberate- not simply just to cause winded silence but to administer the most possible pain.
"Not another word from you."

"It is admirable to witness one of our kind who can still instil such discipline in their brood," Ariel remarked.

"Discipline is only admirable when it serves function," Althea stated sharply, her voice rising ever so slightly.

The weary but by no means weak mother felt her face being cupped by the strong grip of her mate. His gaze was averted from her form, allowing her the opportunity to move but Althea was more than aware that this was not an act of mercy.
This was a reminder.

This was the kind of reminder that Nathaniel always gave her and had always given her since the day that he chose her as his primary mate.
It was the simple, harsh reminder that he did not need for her to be in her quantum lock in order to keep her restrained.

"You always speak with such wisdom for your age, Althea," he crooned softly, his fingers running along the sides of her jaw. "With such intelligence, strength and beauty, one would consider you near perfect…now if only you had Angel Ariel's sensibility, perfection itself might be a fitting title for you."

Althea did not growl or hiss, keeping a composed visage in the wake of Nathaniel's onslaught of psychological torment.
"Our daughter," she said firmly. "You must not treat her with such cruelty. It is a disservice to the youngers amongst our group and all aside, Karida remains your most skilled pack leader. The seekers listen to her as a leader. They respect her word and follow her without question. All of your doubts aside…could you not concede that our daughter has inherited your prowess as one who leads?"

Nathaniel was silent for a moment longer than an ordinary rebuke would take to form and so Althea continued.

"And fittingly, does it not make sense for our daughter to be in peak physical condition if she is to be the one giving your orders to our warriors?"

"…you make an excellent point. As always, your logic proves sound." Suddenly, the Archangel's talons clamped down on the side of Althea's face, his reassuring tone vanishing completely. "Take her from my sight this instant. Your intervention will not save her next time- believe me, my sunlight, believe me."

Staggering and struggling to ascend to a vertical position, Karida tried to heal herself as quickly as possible. She could only barely what her parents were saying but at that very moment, very little meant more to her than the white-hot rage that burned beneath her skin.

It was all Iblis' fault.
Her sire would never treat her in such a manner had it not been for her horrific brother.
He was the sole cause for her mother's plight.

He had defied them.
He had betrayed them.
He had abandoned them.

He had to die.
For the good of their clan.

"Hmm… "my sunlight"…?" Ariel's voice spoke from the darkness. "Does he call your mother that too? It is admirable to see an Archangel who treats prospective mates as he does his primary mate…"

Karida growled. "Stay out of this. Stay away from my family. Stay away from my father."

"I will when he ceases to beckon me, fledgling."

"If you think I am incapable of seeing what you are trying to accomplish by-…"

"What am I trying to accomplish, Angel Karida?" The older Angel gave a soft laugh. "You are undoubtedly far too paranoid for your own good. Never mind that though. Anything that I have done thus far has been solely for your clan's benefit. Your father certainly approves of my efforts. Do not be so fretful. Some of our kind are meant to be active agents in the clan's future and others are not…it is nothing to be ashamed of…"

"I shall show you who should be asha-…"

"Karida! Come!" Althea called out from across the cavern.

Invisible in the shadows, Ariel smirked, dropping her voice. "It is best that you do what your dear mother says."

"This is not over," Karida snapped in response.

"Now, now…watch your temper before your superiors," Ariel returned.

"Karida! Now!"

Reluctantly, the young Angel followed her mother, silently fuming in the darkness- the seeds of a scheme starting to take root in her mind.
Unable to be an active agent in their clan's future?
She'd show Ariel.
She'd show her mother and her father.
And most importantly she'd show Iblis.

She waited until her mother left to do a check on the health of a particularly unwell cherub before summoning her lancing seeker.

"Angel Karida? You sent for me?"

"Yes, Angel Isolde. I will need you to gather the girls. All of them. We have a mission at hand."

"All of them? Is that entirely necessary, Angel Karida?"

"Yes. It is."

"May I inquire as to why this is the case?"

"Because within the next hour, we are going to end this."

"End…this…?"

"End this. End it. End Iblis."
In the darkness, Karida fist crushed a nearby stalagmite to dust. "Once and for all…"

"What a bright time, it's the right time
to rock the night away…"

Cassidy resisted another urge to throw something weighty at the speaker nearest to her desk, instead opting to grit her teeth and continue to lengthy process of examining cracks in century-old pottery.

Petra and Raziyah bore similarly perturbed expressions as they entered the preparation room at the museum bearing stacks of paperwork and plastic files.

Petra exchanged a glance with Cassidy, her voice completely sour to the last syllable.
"It begins."

"Indeed it does, ladies," Cassidy replied, inspecting the nearest shard of clay to her with a magnifying lens. "The era of the dreaded, repeated Christmas playlist is upon us…"

"I wouldn't mind it, if it were just in the public areas but do they really have to pipe it through all of the offices and backrooms too?" Raziyah lamented, trying to arrange a lop-sided stack of folders atop a nearby filing cabinet. "Haven't you lot ever complained about it?"

Petra chuckled, quasi-bitterly and gave the latest addition to the Christmas staff a playful nudge in the ribs. "Listen up, new-blood. Every year we complain about that damn yuletide playlist. Every year management says that they'll do something about it. Every year, they don't. Welcome to the team."

The shorter woman rolled her eyes. "Again, I'd say nothing only…" She tugged on the front of her powder-blue hijab. "It's not as if I'm exactly making after making a commitment to enjoying the perils of the Christmas season…"

"You and me, both, love," Petra retorted with a snort. "I did my time with the church as a kid. Not overly gone on it nowadays. The secular spirit, I can get down with. The holy spirit? Stuff the bullshit, I say. Especially when you con-…" She paused, clearing her throat. "Uh, sorry, Cass."

"Sorry?" Cassidy did not look up as she spoke, her eyes scanning the grooves of the pottery with fervour- her mind, manic, trying to imagine the hands of the person who had first moulded the crudely sculpted bowl into its first, ungainly, beautiful state of usefulness. "What are you sorry for?"

"It's just…well, I know you're sort of the religious…Christian… type…just didn't want to come off as disrespectful or anything…"

The archaeologist brushed it off with a shrug, not quite invested enough to care. "Everyone's entitled to their opinion. Right?"

"Is that from the Bronze Age dig? Over by the east side?" Raziyah inquired, either merely curious or properly pre-empting the need for a change in conversation topic.

"The pottery? Yeah. Yeah, it is. Doesn't look Bronze Age though," Cassidy responded, her tongue clicking behind her teeth as she squinted further to scrutinise the piece she held. "It was buried too shallow in terms of the strata and the striations here, here and here make it look as if the piece was commercially made…or at least made using some kind of tool that's far too advanced for anything that Bronze Age farmers would have had at their disposal…"

Petra tutted. "The management's not going to be happy with that result when we're under time pressure. Do you think it might be from a later era? Iron, maybe?"

"It's too early to make that call without carbon dating results," Cassidy murmured, gingerly piecing the map down on the table. "Hey, could you maybe fetch me the field plan for the dig? Should be in the back somewhere…"

"No problem, pet," Petra saluted. "Who headed the dig?"

"Our very own Edmund Potter in his practical-work debut. Who else? I'm having lunch with him later. I can go over our findings so far but I'll need to know specifics if I'm going to make any recommendations…"

"Lunch date, eh?" Petra responded with a smirk, her voice trailing off as she tottered off down the corridor. "Can't say I didn't see you and Ed coming, Cass…"

Cassidy's expression must have been sufficiently revealing because it was enough to earn her a sympathetic smile from Raziyah. "I'm assuming that it's something a little more friendly than what Petra has in mind?"

"Something a lot more friendly that what Petra has in mind."

"I thought as much. Potter seems to be far too taken with that one from the back office, what's-her-face? Alexa, is it?" She took at her phone. "Gosh, it's already five to eleven. Fancy a coffee? I think I'll grab one before the canteen rush sets in…"

"I'd actually love one, if you wouldn't mind."

"Sure thing…" The newest staff member leaned over Cassidy's desk, taking notice of the faint pencil scribbles on her jotter. "Hey, not to pry but are you learning Arabic or something? Because if you're looking for a good tutor, I can recommend a few…"

"Ah, no," Cassidy said quickly, clearing away her notes with a brief smile in her co-worker's direction. "I just needed to get a translation of a word earlier and Google kept saying that it was Arabic but wouldn't translate it directly."

"Never trust Google Translate," Raziyah cautioned with a good-natured chortle. "What's the word? I can give it a go."

Cassidy hesitated momentarily before replying quietly. "…Iblis."

The other woman tilted her head. "Iblis? Well, there's no direct translation of that but I suppose the closest thing I could compare it to would be like…Satan…or the devil. The Quran names Iblis as a creature who refused to follow Allah. Literally translated…I guess the name would mean something along the lines of "person who causes despair" or "thing that creates despair." Do you mind me asking where you came across it?"

"Oh, I heard it on one of those Criminal Minds or CSI things on television last night and thought I might have come across it before," Cassidy responded quickly, narrowly biting her own tongue in the clumsy manner in which she produced the lie. "Turns out I didn't!"
She added this with a nervous bark of laughter that sounded painfully false even to her own ears. "Thanks for the knowledge, Raziyah."

The new member of staff blinked slightly and then gave a small smile in return. "Uh…again, no problem. I'll go get that coffee then…"

And with that, she was gone sharpishly.
As sheepish as Raziyah had been sharpish, Cassidy had no time to bury her face in her hands before Petra returned brandishing a long, plastic tube like an Olympic torch.

"Aha! Got it! You have no idea how awkward it was to find this! How the hell can something that was filed yesterday ended up so buried in the back of those shelves?" Petra looked around. "Did Raz head off?"

"It's almost break-time. She's off to beat the canteen rush."

"Gah! That's thinking like a pro. Why didn't I think of that? Anyway, Cass, there's the field plan. I'd better dash off before that sodding bitch of a dinner lady runs out of danishes again. Are you working through break? Do you want anything from the canteen?"

"No thanks, Petra. Raziyah said she'd grab me a coffee."

"What a lamb. If only every newbie was as sweet as she is…bleh, time to dive into the Christmas canteen festivities…" She made for the doorway but paused at the frame, lingering back a moment. "Oi, Cass? If you don't mind me saying, I definitely like you and Ed together. Definitely a good thing…"

Before Cassidy could offer anything that was in anyway contradictory to this, Petra went on to say something that stunned her slightly.

"For a while I was worried that that sleazy tour-guide Leon was getting his claws into you…"

"Leon? Uh…well, Leon's actually a really nice guy and…uh, and well, he has a girlfriend."

Petra raised her eyebrows, shrugging in a bemused manner and muttering as she walked out the door. "Well, he had a girlfriend when he tried it on with Louisa and I too…"

Cassidy stomach felt slightly uneasy as she sifted through the files she had left on the desk, hastily putting away her jotting pad and slotting River's message into her pocket. She hesitated for a moment and then carefully laid the pad upon her knees, delicately tracing the name "Iblis" on the page.

"Well…someone's not who I thought he was…and maybe someone else is exactly who I thought he was…"

To anyone who's sent me a PM in the last while, I am so, so sorry! I've been in the process of finishing up my affairs in University and moving back to my home city.
Now that I'm home and set up properly, I'll be posting a lot more regularly and I shall begin the process of replying to all of your fantastic messages!

Thanks to all of those of you who've recently followed and/or faved! I hope you're enjoying Shackled thus far and I hope you continue to enjoy it- I will try my hardest to make this fic a continuously good one!