More emotions flooded through him on the return to Louisiana than Tobias thought were possible for a human being to feel. Half of the time, he was sure that he was going absolutely crazy. The other half, he was more lucid than he had ever been in his life. It was all too easy to understand why so many stories involving people who dealt with angels and demons ended up sounding insane. After only a few incidents with angels, he was about ready to lose his mind as well.
Yet, he couldn’t afford the sanctuary of madness, not when everything he knew was hanging over the precipice. He had never been so powerless as he was when he watched Azrael being forced to leave with Raphael and Gabriel. Growing up under his parent’s laws, living under a twisted pimp’s roof, even the sudden and violent loss of David—none of it had evinced such a feeling of helplessness as Azrael being taken away, right in front of him. The look of sympathy in Raphael’s eyes before they disappeared had only made it worse.
Tobias had thought he might simply feel his sanity slip away, never to be seen again. In truth, it probably would have, except that Raphael had spoken the word "Enochian." That was the same word Azrael had used to describe the weird symbol on a book of Vivian’s.
Vivian—the collector of all kinds of weird books on the occult. Her collection had one that Azrael had said might contain some real knowledge in it. Owned by the very same woman who had admitted privately to him about having doubts about doubting. Perhaps, like him, she wasn’t as honest about just how much she questioned her doubt. Even so, maybe her collection of weird tomes would be enough to give him something—anything—to fix this.
That thought was all that drove him as he made his way back to her place. Without that anchoring him, he might have lost himself along the way. It had not been enough to make him drive safely, but certainly enough to keep him moving.
He paused along the way just long enough to fuel the truck. He made a hasty phone call to Vivian to warn her of his arrival, hoping he didn’t sound insane. It was a short conversation, just long enough to explain he would be coming back without Azrael. Vivian hadn’t seemed fazed by it, though he had sensed worry in her tone when they hung up.
It must have been enough, as she was waiting, alone, for him as he pulled into her drive. She projected a bastion of calm in her chair as he slammed the truck door shut and hurried to the porch. She drew herself to her feet as he approached. Her unnerving gaze swept over him, the faintest show of worry creasing her brow.
“I was going to suggest tea," she said, "but this looks like a conversation that will require something harder. Get yourself into the living room.”
“Vivian—” he began in protest.
“Living room,” she said. “You will be calm enough to have a drink by the time I get back from the cellar, understand?”
“Do you want me to go to the cellar, instead?”
“And break something in your haste? I think not. Now get going.”
By the time she entered the living room with a large bottle of amber fluid and two empty glasses, he felt almost like himself again. She sat herself next to him on the couch, her movements as precise as ever, though more careful and subdued than before. She poured them both a measure of the alcohol.
“Look,” he began, “this is going to be a really long story, and I know it’s going to sound absolutely insane but—“
“Have your drink first, Tobias. Let it settle in. What you have to say is obviously very important, and I won’t interrupt you for another moment when you begin to speak. But for your sake, be as clear of mind as you can be before you begin.”
Tobias followed her gaze to his hand, which was shaking badly enough that the whiskey in his glass wasn’t just rippling, it was splashing up the side. Taking a deep breath, he downed his shot. It was far more than just one shot, and it was strong, but it was smooth enough that he hardly noticed. The liquor hit his gut in a flare of heat, radiating out to touch him from head to toe. It eased his muscles as he took another deep breath and let it out slowly.
“I don’t actually know where to start,” he said.
“Well, now, that’s simple. Where all stories start, at the beginning.”
Nodding again, he began to tell the story that he never thought he would ever tell another human being. Only a few months ago, Azrael had literally fallen into his life, yet it felt as if it had been years. It made it a strange tale to speak aloud to someone for the first time.
Yet, he told it all the same, beginning with his imposed exile from humanity, skipping over the couple of years alone, to when he found Azrael in the woods. That was easy to tell, for as peculiar as the naked part was, it was at least believable. It was after explaining all the strange things about living with Azrael, things that didn’t make sense until his revelation, that Tobias felt the tension building in him again.
Yet, even as he told the truth of Azrael’s origin, both in what Azrael had spoken of to him and then what Tobias witnessed firsthand, Vivian never interrupted. Her expression didn’t change as he described seeing two full angels and the echoes of Azrael’s true heritage. She continued to listen intently, refilling his glass and nodding along, as the story poured out of him.
He had meant to cover only the basics of the story, but he found himself describing their trip in ways he hadn’t described it before: How beautiful it was to see the former angel light up in delight and wonder at the world; how an angel could see the beauty of the laws that formed a beach but had never delighted in the feel of sand between his toes. He could know the forces that generated snow but had never been able to gaze upon the glittering blanket of snow in the moonlight. Azrael had brought a new sense of hope and light to Tobias's life, one that he had hardly noticed or even cared, was missing before.
The alcohol was thick in his system by the time he reached the inevitable, the return of the bastards who had come for Azrael. Talking was a thirsty work, and he let the continued flow of booze fuel his story. He raged at his helplessness and at the unfairness of it all. How could they possibly take this last good thing from his life? How could they be so dismissive and uncaring about it, dragging Azrael off like a criminal simply because he dared love outside of their laws?
The rage burnt away into sorrow; and despair took its place. By the end, it was the emotions, rather than the alcohol penetrating his system, that had him babbling incoherently. Strength was ebbing from his body, and he was slumping against the arm of the couch. At some point, he had drifted off. Whatever sentence he had been forming dying on his lips, as he slipped into the temporary oblivion of sleep.
When he awoke, it was to the sound of birds. He was still on the couch, his legs were resting on the cushions instead of sprawled over onto the floor. Vivian had removed his shoes for him, then covered him with a blanket. His head was pounding, and his stomach turned. The sight of a glass of water on the table in front of the couch was wonderful, and when he managed to force himself upright, he drank it completely on the spot.
Before he could do much more, there came the familiar cadence of determined footsteps marching up the hall. Vivian appeared, wearing a fresh set of clothes and bearing a tray laden with another glass of water, a mug of steaming coffee, and what appeared to be toast. Saying nothing, she swept in and set it on the table, retreating to the chair opposite the couch. Whether that was to give him space and time to wake up further, or to separate herself from someone she considered unstable, he didn’t know.
He was grateful for the breakfast all the same. He wasn’t sure how much he had drunk last night, though he knew it was enough to have given him this headache and had made his stomach feel like it was tilted on its side permanently. The fact that Vivian looked as she always did told him that she probably hadn’t had much more than the glass she’d first poured herself. He wished she hadn’t kept doling out drinks, because he couldn’t remember everything he had said towards the end of the night.
“I would ask if you are feeling any better," she said, "but after how much whiskey you drank, I imagine you probably feel much worse.”
“Kinda feel like a dog’s chew toy.”
“A pity that more expensive alcohol doesn’t make you pay for it as much as the lower grade booze, but alas, it will beat your ass all the same.”
Tobias snorted, wincing as the motion sent a sharp jolt of pain through his forehead. “Vivian?”
“Yes?”
“Not that I’m complaining or anything, because I appreciate the fact that you let me get that all out last night, and I definitely appreciate the morning after care here, but…”
“Why haven’t I called the police or the nearby hospital to have you carted off?”
“Yeah.”
Vivian leaned forward, brushing a stray piece of hair from Tobias’s face. “You should keep your hair shorter, dear. You have such strong features. You shouldn’t hide them behind a curtain of hair.”
Tobias blinked, watching her whisk away his empty glasses and trot off into the kitchen at her usual brisk pace. From the kitchen came the sounds of running water and the glasses clinking together. She returned moments later with a refilled glass of water and a couple of pills. He took them graciously, hoping that between those and the food, he might feel a little more human in time.
“I…thank you? No offense, but why are we focusing on my hair here?”
“One must always keep one’s appearance in mind, even when the world is falling down around them. Especially when the world is falling down around them.”
Tobias frowned at his glass, trying to decipher her words. She didn’t seem nervous or upset. In fact, she was looking at him with a fond curiosity on her face. There was a light behind her eyes that hadn’t been there before, and he wasn’t sure if that should have worried him or not.
“Look, I know what I described last night was unbelievable.”
She nodded. “Absolutely. In this day and age, of reason and fact, tales of angels and Heaven are sure to be met with disbelief and even scorn. You took quite a risk by daring to tell me the tale.”
“Does that mean…you believe me?”
“It means that I am unsure what to believe. I told you once that I have seen things in my life that have cast doubt upon my original disbelief in matters beyond this world. You have the standard tales of ghosts that I have witnessed in my time, of course, but there exists another tale. One that involved a rather perilous adventure in a far-flung corner of the earth and the man who saved me from a pack of cultists.”
“Cultists? You said you dealt with books and stuff.”
“Whatever would some crazed cultists wishing to gain some sort of power beyond the standard of mortals use to acquire it? Everything begins with knowledge, Tobias, and there is much knowledge contained in the books that I dealt with over the years. I was once very close to finding a tome said to possess a great amount of knowledge in the matter of the arcane. It went by many titles over the years. Recently, an associate of mine brought the book up, referring to it as the ‘Lost Atlantis of Books.’ Poor man never imagined for a moment that I had already laid my hands upon it. More commonly, it is referred to in occult academic circles as the ‘Enochian Manuscript.’ Bears less mystery than the first, but far more accurate.”
Tobias sat up. “Wait, is that the same book that you have sitting in a case behind the library?”
Vivian eyed him in cool amusement. “You were poking about up there as well? I expected Azrael’s curiosity to bring him in there, but you?”
“I was looking for Az. He’d found this little book with what he said was a real Enochian symbol.”
“Oh? A wonder he didn’t pluck it from my case and either read it or attempt to take it from me. There are many alive today who would happily murder the both of us—the whole neighborhood, in fact—if it meant getting their hands on that text.”
“I think he wanted to read it, but I, uh, distracted him.”
“You’re blushing again, dear nephew. But, to continue my short tale. This particular cult, which went by some dreadfully melodramatic name of ‘The Ashes of Creation,’ sought that book. There is said to be only that copy in existence, while there are some partial translations lying about. I was spared the fate of being murdered by them by a rather handsome man who sought the book himself. Though, rather than taking it for himself, he bequeathed it to me and told me to keep guard over it. I, of course, have spent time translating it, as well as collecting what other translations I could find.”
Tobias’s gaze slipped up toward the ceiling of the room. “What’s in the book?”
“All sorts of delightful things, as well as some disturbing things. It depicts a different kind of Creation story and even addresses the Fall. It reads like a personal journal that one person kept, though I do not know who authored it. I have not fully translated it, but I have a basic cipher written out for it that I have added to over time.”
“Are you trying to tell me that this book might help me get Azrael back?”
“In it are stories of creation that stretch back eons, before man even knew what writing was, Tobias. There are secrets within it that I have yet to touch and others I dare not fool with. I have no interest or desire in experimenting with such forces. That sort of destiny was never my own.”
“We’re gonna talk about destiny now?”
She shrugged. “Perhaps destiny is simply the path you choose for yourself, or perhaps it is a very real guide that you can fight or follow willingly. Personally? I have had enough in my life to fill my cup. I do not need to add learning the underpinning mysteries of the entirety of Creation to my repertoire.”
“How does this help me, Vivian?”
Vivian leveled her gaze on him, searching his face carefully as she spoke. “Tobias, dear, think hard on this. I have played guardian to that book for decades. You are the first person I have spoken to about this book, and for good reason. If one were determined enough, they could do a great deal with the knowledge within that book. If anything, there are rituals for the summoning of angels.”
“Angel summoning? I thought you could only summon demons or whatever?”
“What are demons but fallen angels? I am sure the angels have done their best to make sure that they are not so easily dragged across the threads of reality as demons have been throughout history, but it is possible. Perhaps less wise than summoning a demon, but possible. Think on that: if what you said is true, and you were deemed important enough to be chosen to be so carefully guided, what would it mean for you to possess this sort of knowledge?”
Tobias sat back, letting the information sink in. If he were so important that the angels needed to send a bodyguard and teacher to him, then he was apparently important while alive. He had no doubt that the kind of precautions taken in the past to keep the summoning of angels under wraps involved killing a few humans who learned of it. If he was too important to kill, then what could they do if he learned that sort of secret?
Conceivably, if he learned it, which he would bet was far more complicated than learning a few words and lighting a few candles, what could he do with that knowledge? Drag them around, interfering in their work, or even retrieving Az from their hold? Could he wield the same power of manipulating an angel’s will that they had utilized? What other secrets were in that book that he could possibly use to his advantage?
“Why?” he asked.
She looked up from her own thoughts, raising a shaped eyebrow. “Why what? Why do I offer you this?”
“Yes. You’ve kept your silence for so long. Why break it now?”
“Oh, well, that’s easy. The moment you told me your story—hell, before you finished it—I knew the time had come for my own secret to be laid bare. I cannot say how I knew that one day I would have to reveal the book, but deep down, I wondered if I might. The moment you told me what Azrael was, I knew it was time. Perhaps I’m wrong, and this was exactly what I wasn’t supposed to do, but I’m confident that I am right.”
“That’s a lot of knowledge to have, if there’s as much as you say in that book. That’s a lot of power.”
“Then I hope that you are up to the task of utilizing it responsibly, Tobias. I hope that my trust is not misplaced.”
That was all there was to it. He could see in her face her decision to hand the book over. She was willing to entrust this to him, to entrust that sort of power to him. All he needed to do was assume responsibility for what lay within its pages, take that final step and ask for it.
If he said no, he could turn away from this and return to his old life. Of course, he would mourn what he had lost, but mourning was nothing new to him. He could be free of this drama, of having to run from one end of the country to the other, pretending that it was only a vacation. Perhaps, he could start having some sort of real familial relationship with Vivian, move close to be with her, and start a new life. Azrael had freed him from the chains of his past, and he had the option to take advantage of it.
Or, he could say yes, and he knew that decision would begin a series of events that would change everything. If Raphael and Gabriel had spoken honestly, and it was essential that he was alive and healthy, then by having this knowledge and using it, he was taking the first steps to willfully doing battle with the forces of Heaven. One could even argue that he was willing to fight the Creator himself by choosing to fight the very edicts the angels were enforcing. The consequences of that choice could do so much more than simply alter his life forever. It could alter the fate the world itself.
Picking his head up, his green eyes flashed as he looked to Vivian’s deep blue gaze. “Show it to me.”