Chapter 17 – August 2026
Esther stares at Lamia in confusion.
“Stupid damned humans!” Lamia yells loud enough to rouse the dead. “Wake up and smell the coffee, princess! I’m a demon; your boyfriend is an ex-angel; the Apocalypse is nigh—and we’re all screwed.”
Esther just stares at her, rubbing her forehead as if she’s in pain.
I watch her carefully in case her brain does indeed explode, the way Lamia has predicted.
“You are so freakin’ weird,” Esther mutters.
I cannot help smiling at that. Unknowingly and unerringly, my Esther has hit on the truth.
Lamia throws her hands up in the air.
“You explain it to her, God-botherer!” she snarls.
“Strange as it may seem,” I say cautiously. “Lamia is telling the truth: she is, in fact, a demon from the depths of Hell…”
“I’m a Grade 2 Minion!” she interrupts. “I am not from the depths of Hell. I’m middle-management now. Get it right, angel!”
“I stand corrected,” I say with a small bow. “Lamia is a demon from the middle of Hell…”
“Better…” says Lamia sullenly.
“And I was an angel. Not a fallen angel,” I hasten to add. “Well, I did fall, but not in The Fall, just an ordinary tumble through the clouds. You see, I had the temerity to place a bet with Lamia that I could persuade more mortals to behave well than she could persuade to behave badly. I wagered that I could save more souls than she could claim and…”
Esther’s eyes focus on me, growing colder as she continues to stare at me.
“Is this some sort of joke?” she asks, her voice dripping with icy disdain. “Because it’s in really poor taste. I thought you were one of the good guys, Nuriel.”
“I am,” I say, taken aback. “I was born of light on the first day of God’s Creation. I was an immortal messenger created to do His bidding. But, uh, he said that my wager with Lamia was prideful and cast me down to the Earth to learn humility.”
“And, what? You just ended up in Redrock to go to high school?”
“Yes, exactly,” I say, relieved that she has understood so quickly.
Lamia laughs out loud.
“She doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, Nuriel.”
I frown in confusion.
“Yes, she does. I have spoken only the truth.”
Lamia shakes her head in amusement and turns her fierce gaze on Esther.
“Beware an idealist because he’ll kill you with his eyes wide open … or as you might say, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Yes? No? Too simple for you, human? Okay, try to wrap your tiny pin-brain around this one: ‘Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive.’ That’s C S Lewis. Interesting guy.”
“Did someone spike your drinks?” Esther asks, halfway between concern and anger as her glare pivots between us.
Lamia huffs out a heavy sigh.
“And she’s supposed to be one of the clever ones.”
“You will have to show her again,” I say quietly.
“Yeah, like that worked so well last time! She passed out and put it down to having a nightmare. Why are you humans so unable to see the truth when it’s shown to you? Why are you so wilfully blind?”
The irony of this statement is lost on both of the females in my company.
“Please, Lamia,” I beg humbly.
“No!” she says, folding her arms. “I’m not a performing seal.”
A sudden thought occurs to me.
“Lamia, why did you want to come out to the desert to have this … discussion?”
She frowns.
“It seemed like a quiet place to have a crazy conversation. No eyes to see or lips to hear,” she says, a teasing smile on her face.
“Was it your idea?” I persist. “Or did the idea just come to you?”
She looks at me warily.
“It kinda came to me.”
I nod excitedly.
“Yes! I think we were all drawn here.”
“Why’s that then, nature boy?”
“This is where I came to Earth after I…”
“After the Fall?” Lamia smirks.
“It was just a fall,” I say, stung.
“It’s not like you just tripped, Nuriel,” she says, rolling her eyes. “God threw you out of that-place-in-the-clouds-that-will-remain-nameless. You were banished, stripped of your wings, and crashed down to Earth.”
“Fine, but this is where I landed. So, maybe there is something here that proves it.”
“What, like a burning bush?” Lamia taunts.
But I have already seen a sign, gleaming in the bright moonlight, and I seize on it. Tears come to my eyes, my dirt-brown eyes that were once the blue of Heaven. A single angel feather, one of my own: infinitely bright, inordinately soft, extraordinarily strong, and entirely indestructible.
“Oh my God!” Esther says with reverend awe. “What is that? Is it an eagle’s feather? It’s so beautiful!”
“It is the feather of a fallen angel,” I sigh. “It is mine. It was mine.”
I remove the constricting jacket of my tuxedo and slip the white shirt from my shoulders, then I turn my back to Esther, letting her see the full extent of the wings tattooed across my shoulders and spine.
I hold the feather gently in my hand, feeling its warmth as it gleams, weeping to see its eternal celestial beauty and the loss I feel. Then I toss it into the air and it hovers for just a moment before settling like snow on my shoulder, fitting into the exact outline on my skin from whence it came.
“I … I don’t understand,” says Esther.
“Yes, you do,” I say, my voice tender. “But it is up to you to believe it. Believe what your heart tells you, Esther. I was an angel. God cast me out of Heaven for the sin of Pride. I am now nothing but a mortal human.”
Her fingers drift across my skin as the feather floats to the ground, and although the night is warm, I shiver from her touch.
“No, it’s not possible,” she whispers.
But I hear the uncertainty in her voice, the tremor in her words. She is beginning to believe, but her mind fights her.
My heart aches for the misery of her confusion.
I have watched this century from so far away but now I live among these people and I mourn for their lack of true belief. They believe everything and nothing; they see it all and yet they are blind; they feel so much and yet they are insensible to the feelings of others; they all have a voice and yet they have not ears to hear the cries of their brethren. It breaks my all-too human heart.
“Esther…”
“No, Nuriel, I can’t believe that. It’s just too…”
Her voice falls silent.
I try once more.
“Esther, trust in the Lord with all your heart.”
“Oh, for crying out loud!” Lamia huffs impatiently. “Why is it so much easier for frickin’ humans to believe the bad rather than the good?”
And she shifts from her human form into the wormlike creature of her dead demon heart.
Esther collapses against me, but this time her eyes are wide open.
“Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” she breathes.
“Convinced now, are we?” Lamia hisses, reverting to her human form which a sudden flash of fire, a stench of sulphur from the pit.
Esther nods so fast, I am concerned that she will hurt her neck.
“It’s true!” she squeaks. “Is it true? Have you been telling me the truth?”
I nod, stroking her hair gently as she struggles to stand on her own two feet.
“Right, everyone up to speed now?” Lamia asks in a bored tone. “I’m a demon, he’s an ex-angel, you’re an idiot with a 4.0 GPA. So, how do we stop a celestial Apocalypse by Chrysolite angels? Anyone? Anything? Step forward, don’t be shy.”
“Who are the Chrysolites?” Esther asks, frowning again.
“Warrior angels who thinks humans are depraved and disgusting and need to be wiped from the face of the Earth,” Lamia replies with a broad smile. “We have to stop them. Any bright ideas? Or maybe a stupid one?”
“I have no idea,” says Esther in a voice that is barely above a whisper.
“Great,” sighs Lamia with infinite sarcasm.
“But I know where to look,” says Esther, straightening her spine and looking Lamia in the eye.
“Oh yeah, Einstein? Where do we look? The Gates of Hell? Mount Ararat? Angkor Wat? The Golden Temple? Uluru? Glastonbury Tor? Stonehenge? Walmart?”
Esther tosses her hair dismissively.
“No, the school library. Well, that and the internet.”
Lamia immediately scoffs at the idea.
“Trust the nerd to suggest looking for celestial wisdom in a library.”
“If you have a better idea, feel free to share it,” Esther shoots back, making me smile. “‘The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and instruction’—Proverbs 1:7.”
Lamia yawns.
“Just spare me the preaching. I’ve heard it all before thousands of times.”
“Then you’ll know where to look to find out how we can fight the Chrysolites,” says Esther. “Or are you just going to mouth off while Nuriel and I do the real work?”
“She has a point, Lamia,” I say with a smile. “Many hands make light work.”
“Shut up already!” she yelps. “Fine! Fine! I’ll help, just stop with the preaching! It gives me…”
“…hives,” Esther and I say in unison.
“Come on,” Esther chuckles, grinning at me. “Let’s get back to school and see if Forrester and Peggy are still at the gym. We could use the extra help. Oh, and bring your, um, feather with you, Nuriel. It’ll help convince the others.”
“We’ve got Lamia for that,” I point out.
“Yes, but it would be a shame to leave it behind. And it’s so beautiful…”
“Uh yeah, I’ve got it for safe keeping,” Lamia admits.
“But…”
“Look, we need to start researching,” says Esther, tugging on my hand. “We know she’s got it so we can just get it from her later. Oh, and you might want to put your shirt back on—especially if Peggy is around.”
By the time we get back to the high school, the Blizzard Ball is nearly over. The music is gentler now, the pumping noise of the early part of the evening replaced with ballads about the human experience of love.
“Let’s dance, Nuriel,” says Esther, gently tugging me onto the dance floor.
“We don’t have time,” I say, trying to resist her. “We have to learn how to stop the Apocalypse.”
“And we will, but if this is the only chance I’ll ever have to dance with you, I want to take it.”
I feel the profound weight of her words and accompany her onto the dance floor, taking her slender body in my arms.
My heart pounds inside my ribcage, far more loudly than the soft music.
“I love Etta James,” Esther breathes, her warm breath flowing across my throat. “Her voice is like salted caramel, sweet with just a hint of sadness, as if her heart has been broken and mended a dozen times.”
And as the rich words pour through the speakers, I think that Esther is right. The human experience of love is as much about loss as love, as much about learning as it is heartbreak; and in a way, it mirrors my own journey as I have tried to navigate these complex and confusing human emotions.
Esther melts against my body, her breasts pressed to my chest, her arms wound around my neck, her thigh sliding between mine. It is too much and not enough. I want this woman. I want to know this woman. I want to feel this woman in all the ways that God has made possible.
My thoughts are both carnal and pure, or purely carnal. I have not the words to explain my emotions; I only know that I have them. And I think Esther understands because she says,
“Save that thought—we have work to do. Unfortunately.”
Then I feel an elbow in my ribs and Forrester’s face is grinning at me.
“Where you been, man? You been all over that fine woman of yours?”
“I went to the desert with her.”
“Yo’ shittin’ me! You crazy kids.”
“Lamia was there, too.”
His eyebrows shoot up so high, I wonder if they will fly from his face.
“You dog!”
I am not sure what canines have to do with it, so I nod distractedly.
“Now we have to go to the library to save the world from the Apocalypse. Bring Peggy.”
He nods and grins.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, buddy, but I’m in.”
And I pray that Esther is right. All of human knowledge can be accessed from the internet, so if there is anywhere or anyway that we can learn to save the world from the Chrysolites, it is in this high school’s library.
I hope.