VIII. Museum
The snowstorm had gotten worse. Even with a Keeper, Issa struggled to trek through the harsh wind and thick fog. Behind her, Edvardiel was barely keeping up. Whatever façade he'd put on earlier was rapidly falling away. The soft glow on his skin betrayed the fact that he was relying solely on his glory to move.
"We should take a break," Issa shouted through the howling wind.
Edvardiel took another step, his mismatched shoes sinking through the knee-length snow. "What?"
"I said, we should take a break!"
He wasn't listening to her. He'd gone still, his eyes tight. A distant bolt of pain seared through her chest. His. Issa reached out and caught him around the waist before he crumpled to the ground.
"We're taking a break," she told him. She swung his arm over her shoulder and headed towards the nearest door. She kicked the snow away and forced the door open.
Edvardiel could hardly walk and she had to carry him over the threshold. She propped him against the wall and wrestled with the door as it flapped around like a flag. With some difficulty, she managed to yank it shut.
She sank to the ground beside the angel. Despite her sheer dress and bare feet, she wasn't breathless or cold, but bone-deep fatigue had settled over her limbs.
"I know Binding takes a lot out of the Keeper," she said. "But it has never taken anything out of me."
"It was the healing." Edvardiel said, ashen-faced. "You healed me and healing takes the most energy." He turned away abruptly and retched.
Issa crossed her arms. "That's why you collapsed outside the subway."
He only retched again, shivering violently.
She peered over his shoulder.
Red.
Not watery red or pink but thick crimson. Her new Keeper was throwing up blood.
"I thought I healed you," she said.
Edvardiel wiped his lips with a sleeve. A sharp pain shot through her heart. His again. Their connection was getting stronger, and she felt the constant throb as his heart hurt him with every beat.
This was no ordinary injury. This was something ugly and sinister like his torn wings.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
Edvardiel closed his eyes, steadying his breath from his half-crouched position. "Where do I start? Should I make a list? I think Apocalypse would be at the top of it."
He didn't want to tell her. Fine. She pursed her lips and got to her feet, walking down the hallway. He could take his secrets and shove them up his—
The gross sound of blood splattering on the floor told her he'd thrown up again.
"Take off your wet clothes," she called out.
"Won't that just make me colder?" he wheezed out.
She ignored him and looked around. Dust motes danced in the decrepit displays and Issa tilted her head. Something was… off. Not a single cobweb gleamed in the corners. No cockroaches crept across the dirty floor. And despite the humidity, no mould grew on the walls.
Goosebumps rose on her skin.
She'd often wondered what the hell-dwellers were doing while their Acolytes slaughtered the humans.
"Seraph," she said. "Everything's dead."
His unsteady footfalls echoed behind her.
"Everything's dead," she said again. "Did you notice?"
Her brows rose when she saw that he was almost entirely naked save for the small bit of angel robe around his hips and the jacket.
"You're right, I was colder with the wet clothes on," he said, oblivious to his appearance. He gazed at the display nearest to him. "Interesting." A drop of blood glistened near his mouth and she was gripped with the sudden urge to reach out and wipe it off.
She rubbed her face to give her hands something to do. "Did you hear what I said?"
"Yes. But this is the Apocalypse, after all," Edvardiel said. "The purging of everything living." He sounded matter-of-fact, almost disinterested, but Issa's mind spun.
She thought about her last couple of raids before her imprisonment. The trees had been reduced to rotting stumps, that was true, but she'd assumed it had been from the endless cold. Then again, even in cities where it had been warm, there had been no plants. No flowers, not even weeds. When was the last time she'd seen a bug? A stray cat? A dog?
Issa didn't know why this was more shocking to her than the deaths of millions of humans.
"What's a dildo?" Edvardiel asked suddenly.
Issa started. "What?"
"A dildo. Look, that thing over there." Edvardiel pointed at what was indeed a sparkly pink dildo.
For the first time, Issa turned her attention to the displays. Most of the stands were empty or vandalised, various items scattered on the ground, but a few were still up, covered in a thick layer of dust. A mannequin. A rubber duck. Little figurines. Underneath each item were little stories.
"Where are we?" she wondered.
"Museum of Broken Relationships." Edvardiel nodded to a faded sign.
The world was definitely mocking her.
She knew this museum. It used to be one of the most well-known in Zagreb. She'd stood outside it about a hundred years ago, the night before one of her first raids. The museum itself had been long shut down, but Issa had walked into this very same hall, reading the little stories underneath each item from a broken relationship. How had she forgotten it? Was she going to forget everything like she forgot her human life? Would Yassper's face fade from her memories too?
"I can't believe these are still standing," she murmured, looking at the displays.
"You've been here before?"
"A long time ago," she said.
Edvardiel's voice was soft. "When you were human?"
"No." But that night, her heart had still been more human than Acolyte. She pulled herself out of her musings and turned a critical eye to the angel. "You look better."
"I feel better." A little colour had returned to his cheeks, and the blue was fading from his lips. He was moving better and unlike in the church, she could tell he wasn't using glory. "Should we continue?"
"Not yet." She didn't want to risk him fainting if they ran into Lilith's army. "But we need a plan. You said you knew how to stop the Apocalypse."
Edvardiel winced. "I didn't say that."
"Yes, you did."
"No," he said. "To be precise, I said, 'How do you expect me to stop the Apocalypse alone?'"
"Tomayto, tomahto," Issa said. He would've made one sneaky Acolyte with all that wordplay. "You have an idea how to do it, don't you?"
Edvardiel ran an agitated hand through his hair. "My plan is to open Heaven's gates, beg for help, and hope for the best."
"Sounds good enough." She paused at his expression. "What, you don't think they'll listen to you because you're Fallen? It's the fucking Apocalypse. They'll have to."
Edvardiel didn't look entirely convinced but he nodded slowly. "Yeah. They'll have to."
"So," she said. "How do we open the gates?"
Edvardiel pressed his lips together.
For the first time in a long while, Issa felt morally insulted. "Do you think I'm going to destroy the key? In case you forgot, I literally bound myself to you."
"It's not you." Edvardiel sounded frustrated.
"Then what?"
"It's Heaven," Edvardiel said. "I don't know how they'll take to me spilling their secrets. They've already discarded me. If I stand any chance at all of wanting them to take me back—"
"You're stopping the Apocalypse," Issa said. "Isn't that reason enough?"
Crippling shame shot through their bond. "You're right," he said, downcast. "I shouldn't be thinking of myself."
"No, seraph," Issa said. "You should make it a habit. Maybe they threw you down to earth so you can grow a backbone."
Why the fuck they threw this selfless, loyal-to-a-fault angel out in the first place, Issa had no idea, but she sensed that it was sore topic for him like Yassper was for her. She walked towards the door and picked up the wet clothes, squeezing out the melted snow. "Fine, don't tell me. You just have to tell me where to go, what to do. I don't really care as long as I don't have to go back to that bitch empress."
"Would it kill you to say my name?"
Issa paused mid-squeeze. He looked so… crestfallen.
Oh for fuck's sake.
"Edvardiel. Edvardiel, Edvardiel, Edvardiel," she said. "Happy, now? You should get some rest."
His lips twitched. As he walked towards her in his half-dressed glory and she wondered if this was some sort of test from the locked heavens. He raised a hand and her breath caught. "I can dry that." He looked at the dripping clothes.
He tried to take them from her hands but she held them out of reach.
"Don't waste your glory." She hung the damp clothes on the metal bars of the window.
Of course, that meant he was still in a scandalous state of undress. It would be so easy to slip the jacket off his shoulders. He would let her, she knew he would. Then she'd reach underneath his robe—
Issa tore her gaze away from his body and back to his face, where that annoying little drop of blood was. "Stay still." She wiped the bloodstain away with her thumb. "That shit has been bothering me."
He touched his lips and she yearned to touch them too. "Oh, thanks."
You're so very welcome, delicious angel, the hungry Acolyte inside her cackled. Issa wondered if she was slowly losing her mind from the sexual repression.
"Your name," she said. "Is it real?"
His brows furrowed. "Of course. Why?"
"Just wondering. I couldn't find it in the Book of Angels."
A wave of sorrow swelled through their bond. "Yeah. Well, you won't find it anywhere." He sank down against the wall and huddled in his jacket. "I'm apparently not good enough for them."
Issa stared.
"Not good enough? Why the fuck not? You have glory, you used to have wings, and you're good to a fault. What a bunch of idiots."
Edvardiel smiled slightly. "Is that another compliment?"
Issa gave him a small push. "That was a lot of compliments and you know it. You dummy. I have half a mind to kill Lilith myself to show those flying fuckers."
That made him laugh. "You and that mouth." She didn't miss the way his gaze lingered on her lips.
"It's a very talented mouth, I assure you," she said slyly.
A faint glow lit up his cheeks and she smirked.
"Tell me about your name," he said, changing the subject.
Her eyes narrowed. "Careful with the directives, seraph." His command was soft, easy to stall because he hadn't intended it, but it compelled her nonetheless. "I already told you. A friend gave me this name."
"Sorry," he said. "I mean, tell me about your name if you want to." His expression turned thoughtful. "What about this—don't do anything I say unless you want to."
"That doesn't really work, but I appreciate the sentiment. Edvardiel." She corrected herself, realising how important his name was to him. His eyes softened and she tried to shut away the uncomfortable warmth worming its way into her chest. That was dangerous territory.
Now that she was more relaxed, the tiredness was getting to her too. She sat down beside him, leaning against the wall. "If you really must know, it was the same friend who used to own this." She unsheathed her curved blade, turning it this way and that.
She'd had no memories when she woke. She'd sat in the ruble of Haiphong, bleeding and confused, until Yassper had found her. She didn't know if it was because she'd been so young or because she hadn't tried to run, but she hadn't received the thrashing new Acolytes usually did. She remembered his giant form approaching her, his twin blades glinting in the cloud-filtered sunlight. What's your name, little bird?
"He called me Aisha," Issa said. "He said it means—"
"Alive," Edvardiel finished. "He wanted you to live."
"Yeah. But I could barely hear because my eardrums were busted—from an explosion I guess, I don't remember—I could only read his lips. Misread it as Issa. It stuck."
Her legs had been badly damaged. Yassper had gathered her into his arms and carried her back. His gentleness had made everything in Lilith's palace much, much worse because she'd been the only Acolyte who'd arrived not knowing what to expect.
"Was he your Keeper?" Edvardiel asked.
"God, no. He was an Acolyte, like me. I wasn't friends with any of my Keepers." It was hard to recall much of what had happened in the beginning. It had been an onslaught of horrific brutality, one thing after the other, so much so that her mind repressed most of it. "The first three were empaths like you, but like all empaths, they were depressed as shit. Hardly said two words and avoided me like the plague. None of them lasted more than a week."
The empath Keepers had actually been her worst. Enduring their intense shame and guilt through the bond after the Bindings forced by Lilith's command had been harder than the Binding itself. She hardly remembered them because they'd died within days, sometimes hours, of each siege. Any thought she might have spared them were overwhelmed by fresh violence that never seemed to end.
"There's something I don't understand," Issa said. "How come hell-dwellers can be empaths? I mean, they all died out pretty fast, but I'm shocked they existed at all."
Edvardiel lifted his shoulders. "I don't know much about Hell."
"And you," she said. "Aren't angels forbidden from such things? You're supposed to be Heaven's instruments, aren't you?"
"I'm not an angel—not really," he said, his tone closing the subject. "But yes. Angels are forbidden from indulging their emotions." He yawned and laid himself on his side, his eyes drifting shut.
Issa watched him for a few moments before she felt herself nodding off too.
She woke up cocooned in the angel's scorching warmth. She had no idea how she'd ended up there or for how long but shifted closer, finding that she very much enjoyed being held. And the warmth. Heavens, she loved his warmth so much, she didn't think she'd mind drowning in it.
Edvardiel opened his eyes blearily. He seemed surprised to see her nestled against him but didn't protest when she climbed onto him and curled up on his chest.
"Are you using me as a bed?" he asked, his voice hoarse from sleep.
"And heater," she said, pressing her cold fingers to his shoulders.
Edvardiel grumbled but didn't let go of her. "I think I need a few more hours of rest."
She stayed cuddled in his warmth as he dozed off until midday. She was reluctant to move even when he stirred. As though sensing it, he let them stay that way for another hour or two.
Finally, he peered down at her, now wide awake. "Don't you want to get up?"
"No." She tightened her hold around him.
For a moment, his eyes softened in that way that made her stomach feel all wrong again and then he smirked. "Didn't take you for the clingy type." Then he sat up and wrapped his arms around her. "I suppose I could just carry you around like a baby koala. Or should I say baby lion?"
That made her kick him away.
"Fucker," she muttered, glancing at her reflection in the museum window, and self-consciously smoothened down her hair.
"I stand corrected. Angry baby lion," he teased. He reached out but she ducked before he could pat her head.
"Watch it if you want to keep that hand," she threatened. "That tongue too."
"So cold, Issa," he said, pretending to be hurt.
She stretched out her muscles contentedly, feeling refreshed. She couldn't remember having ever slept this well. The vast amount of glory flooding into her system was helpful too. She glanced over at Edvardiel and saw that he looked much, much better than before.
Who knew that all he needed was some sleep? Odd angel. Or non-angel, according to him. What a bunch of drivel. She hadn't expected Heaven to be so petty and strange.
"So," she said. "What's the plan?"
"We have to figure out how to get out of here first." Edvardiel looked at the windows, which were almost completely blocked by five feet of snow.
"Second-floor balcony," Issa said. "The stairs are over there."
Just before they left, Issa unhooked the blade from her side and placed it upon an empty display stand.
Edvardiel gazed at her.
There were many things she could have said. Some true (I have glory now, I don't need a puny blade), some painfully so (I want to try not killing), some not at all (I'm tired of carrying this heavy shit around). But she didn't speak and Edvardiel didn't ask. He only walked ahead, giving her space.
Issa gazed at Yassper's remaining blade, her heart aching. She'd never properly mourned him. She'd never had the luxury amidst Lilith's orders and the torture. His loss was something she'd tucked away in the soft, unwelcome corners of her barely human heart.
She looked at the blade for a long, long time. A few times, she changed her mind and picked it up again, unable to bear the thought of parting with it.
"You never wanted to fight, did you, Yassper?" she said softly. She'd carried this part of him with her, forcing him to live the killings through her on and on and on. It was time to put him to rest.
She used her newfound glory to carve the stone.
23-year bond. Started in Haiphong, Vietnam. Ended in Cologne, Germany.
Taught me how to survive but didn't take his own advice.
"Goodbye, Yassper. Rest well."
She kissed the blade and laid it on the stand.
Edvardiel was waiting for her outside on the balcony, his long hair fluttering in the icy wind. "Ready?"
"No," she said. "But we should go anyway."
Edvardiel paused for a second. "Oh, I just remembered. You said there was a second step after drinking my blood."
Issa cringed inwardly. Not that again.
She shook her head. "It's nothing."
"Really? So the Binding is done?"
"Yes, it's done," she snapped. "Can't you tell by the way you made me fly around? Come on, let's get moving. Edvardiel."
He grinned and unexpectedly took her hand. "Let's go, Issa."
The Museum of Broken Relationships actually exists, and it's pretty close to the Zagreb cathedral (which was about how far these two managed to get in the snowstorm). Till next time :)