Trouble with Angels
SueEllen Holmes
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011
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Urban Fantasy and Sci-Fi titles available so far:
The Crone's Stone
Dominion
Brink
A Darker Shade of Grey
Kaleidoscopic
My commitment to teen fiction is made possible by my enduringly supportive husband, skilled co-editor daughters and son's brave honesty. For once, words cannot express my love and gratitude.
Chapter One
Nimbus’s Problem
Nimbus lined up his arrow, a faultless trajectory to pierce the girl’s heart clean through. He pulled the golden bow taut, carefully weighing the decision to let fly. She sauntered along the street, oblivious of the angel sighting her from his perch on the edge of a nearby rooftop. Humans were inevitably unaware: they never paid attention.
“Nimbus!” Came a banshee screech from his left shoulder. “What are you doing?”
His fingers jerked in surprise and he accidentally let go. He watched in horror as the missile hurtled to collide with its target, the first time ever his aim was accurate. Typical! The girl gasped, hands to her chest, as a glorious starburst of colour and light shattered about her. She blinked myopically at the nearest telegraph pole. Where moments before she wore the snide expression of a modern tween, a dopey leer now resided, the hint of drool shining her lips.
“Nimbus,” Celestial groaned, luminous white-haired head cupped in her palms. He considered the pose a vast improvement on her accusing features drilling his guilt. “What have you done?”
“I was practising! Until you showed up, I had no intention of shooting her!”
“Eternal damnation, Nimbus!” Celestial huffed and directed a glare at him. “You’re not even supposed to be down here. We’re not ready for this world. We’re not trained. The Archangels will have your halo!”
“They should have yours for spying,” he muttered. “Is it my fault my aim is off lately?”
This was an understatement. His aim was, and always had been, hideous. And the admission provided Celestial with another cue to lecture. It was one of her favourite activities among many, none of which Nimbus, who was usually on the receiving end, considered pleasant.
“Your aim is not the problem! It’s your inability to keep an arrow in your quiver! Look at the poor girl. She’s besotted with a post. Out in the open for all to see, stroking timbre and asking if it thinks she’s pretty. I have real concerns about splinters. She’s a laughing stock if anyone happens by. What do you intend to do about it?” she challenged.
“Let’s not be hasty, Essie.” Nimbus couldn’t hide the desperation and nervously fluttered his feathers. “You can fix it, can’t you?”
She narrowed to inspect his robe, eyes shimmering from indigo to ice blue. It was not a good sign. She reached over and plucked a crumb of chocolate cake, holding it aloft for his inspection, as if flour and powdered sugar were responsible for the Apocalypse.
“You’ve been pilfering food,” she hissed. “Again!” Others on the Ethereal Realm raved about her dazzling beauty, but Nimbus only saw her face contorted by a variety of disapproving facades. He’d labelled them: the grumpy troll, the critical Gorgon, the mean Harpy and her current look, the enraged Medusa.
“It was just a little snack.” The only good thing about this woeful place, now symbolic of one more failure, was the food. He didn’t need to eat, but considered himself a connoisseur. Essie considered the habit shameful and beneath one of his supposed stature.
“If you were not in such trouble already, I’d tell Bacchus,” she said. “Stealing from those we’re eventually meant to protect is not included in the manual of appropriate Fledgling Angel behaviour. Or any manual, for that matter. And, as the first Chosen on the Ethereal Realm since time unremembered, the standard is even higher for us. At this rate, you couldn’t get accepted to goat-herd school, let alone Seraph training.”
The truth stabbed Nimbus. So far, he’d proven the only inaccurate prediction the Delphic Oracle had made, and she’d been at it longer than Methuselah wheezed breaths. Great things were expected of the Chosen. Celestial, his birth sister in time, lived up to every one with ease. Essie flew, fought, churned out long passages of whatever script was given and worked spells beyond her grade. Her spectacularness defined his own incompetence. Not that she meant to; Celestial bent over backwards trying to help him. Occasionally, she even covered for him. But his lack was beyond even her capacity to repair. He lived in constant fear of having his wings stripped, tossed from the Ethereal Realm to this hellish sewer for eternity.
Celestial gazed at him, her fierce demeanour softening. “I will go up and speak to Bacchus, see if there’s anything in the Book of Lore to reverse this catastrophe. And while I’m gone keep out of the humans’ kitchens!”
Before Nimbus could plead for further help, Celestial disappeared without so much as a goodbye wisp of vapour and he was abandoned to silent misery. Her shrill voice echoed. She was enough to give even the Highest Divine a migraine. But it was chocolate cake! Even the Stoics couldn’t resist.
He morosely watched the outcome of his latest mistake. The silly girl wailed at the unresponsive pole. “What have I done? Why won’t you speak to me?”
Nimbus rolled his eyes. They glittered and changed, shifting from the shade of a pristine glacier in the remotest Arctic, to the aquamarine of the Mediterranean Sea to the deepest cobalt of a Morpho butterfly and myriad hues in between, depending on mood. He knew this, because he often gazed at himself in the Pool of Narcissus.
He grudgingly conceded these humans were charming creatures, especially the females, and confessed an urge to whip out his biggest arrow whenever one walked by (never to Celestial, of course). But surely the Most High could find a better use for a Cherub’s Godly powers than babysitting a race who were more than a few pillars short of a temple? Certainly, anyone who’d witnessed a Star Trek convention or ‘professional’ wrestling would agree, there might be serious design faults.
Not that Nimbus would ever speak his belief out loud, or there would be Hell to pay. He took a big risk even thinking it. No-one questioned the Architect. Ever! Nimbus was familiar with stories of the Fallen, whose punishment for such impertinence was exile to the Nadir of Eternal Flame. Were they a rough crowd!
His mope was interrupted by a gang of jeering youths, who’d turned the corner onto the street. He glanced at the young girl slumped in the gutter, sobbing pathetically. Celestial would make the Fallen look like Fairies if Nimbus didn’t save the girl from embarrassment. But how? Just as panic set in and exile down here seemed favourable to her wrath, a brilliant idea erupted like Vulcan’s fireworks.
Shaking off his Angel-in-Training robe, he pulled his glorious white wings tight to his body, mentally shrinking them, and imagined the normal street clothes of a modern boy. In a blink, Nimbus materialised as close as he dared to the girl. Unfortunately, distracted by the need to stay hidden until the right moment, he overshot the cover of the low brick wall he was hoping for and landed painfully in a thick hedge of hydrangeas. Branches rudely poked unmentionable bits and a thick shower of petals covered his platinum curls in a ridiculous mauve toupee.
He barely had time to notch an arrow, step from the bushes and whisper a loud “Psst!” like some garden-variety pervert, then send his new hope home. The girl looked up unseeing, as a second sparkling shower of rainbow stars dissolved about her. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them slowly, love blossoming for the oddly dressed and mildly creepy boy, who’d apparently been stalking her from the foliage.
Relieved and proud of his genius, Nimbus tried unsuccessfully to coax her behind the fence, when disaster struck and the pack of teenagers arrived. Lucky for the girl, whose longing was now firmly focused on Nimbus, he also had the newcomers’ undivided attention. They screamed in laughter, pointed and grasped at stitches in their sides. Nimbus peered down at himself and sighed in disbelief. Not only had he misjudged his landing, advertised by the scratches on his bare arms and legs, he had decked himself out in a hot-pink pair of leather shorts.
“What’s that on his head?” shrieked one of the humans. He giggled so madly, Nimbus wondered briefly if Pluto’s jester, Yoric, had sprinkled him with laugh-til-you-die powder.
“Biker Barbie’s wearing my Gran’s church hat! Such a pretty shade of purple.” The comment drew another round of hysterics. Could it get much worse?
“Stop it!” the girl squealed. “Leave him alone!”
“Oooh, little girls in love. How sweet!”
His limited patience ran drier than the Sahara at midday and Nimbus fantasised unleashing the Biblical plague in downtown suburbia. Maybe he’d smote a few butts? This was all Celestial’s fault! She knew he had trouble with his powers and should never have left him alone down here. He’d learn nothing, practicing mistakes.
Come to think of it, Nimbus was mighty hungry. What to do that would not provoke a spell in the fiery depths, visiting vicious fiends as a reward? He could simply dematerialise and write the fiasco off as a botched learning exercise, let their tutor, Bacchus, sort it out. This would also conveniently offer quiet time to heal the emotional scars of public humiliation in a hat that resembled a Nereids’ swim-cap. Lavender really wasn’t his colour. It was best to repress the fact he wore an outfit worthy of Mars, who enjoyed cross-dressing. If the Nymphs found out, he’d be the object of more degrading jokes. That sealed it; the humans were on their own.
Just as Nimbus was poised to break the repeated warnings of Bacchus, “Above all else, leave things better than when they were found”, probably gaining a millennium on the time-out cloud, Celestial returned.
“What in the Lord’s creation is this horrific nightmare!” She hovered as a dust mote by his ear. She may have been teeny, but her voice was a blaring trumpet and he grimaced. “Honestly, I leave you for one iota --”
Nimbus cut her off, affecting his best Cupid’s face. “Could we please move passed the sermon to the part where you make it better, Celestial? I pledge the next one hundred years, during which, you can shout yourself hoarse and I will listen enthusiastically.”
“He’s talking to himself,” said one of the aggravating humans. “Maybe, he’s a nutter.” The group nodded avidly in agreement.
“Stop wheedling, Nimbus. That cutesy rot might work on harem girls, but I find it an unbecoming waste of your abilities. And --” Blaspheme! Nimbus regretted coming down here more with each passing second. “-- a pledge from you is not worth the spit of the Devil’s three-headed dog. Gabriel says it’s important not to enable you.”
Things were poorly when even the Archangels deferred to such hair-brained waffle, he fumed. “I should make you clean this up, but there’s something strange going on upstairs and we need to sort it out.” She gave the impression that a good skewering on Lucifer’s pitchfork, to be slow roasted over the barbeques of the Underworld, was the only penalty she’d be happy with. “You get to wriggle out of strife again.”
Celestial merely had to think it and the youths continued along the path as though uninterrupted, a minute gap in their memories the only sign of their brush with Angels. The girl, enraptured by Nimbus despite his fashion sense, would be far harder to heal.
Cherub’s arrows were formed from the Breath of the Blessed, who fused stardust and moonbeams, a pinch of time from the beginning and the glorious source that flowed through all the mysteries and the astral bodies; the suns and the planets, and every living being. For Celestial to undo its bond, she too must wield this awesome and majestic power.
It was a lot to expect of a Cherub, who regardless of her abilities was still only an Angel-in-Training. She took her physical form. Cherubs mostly wore a proper body to interface with others on their Realm and on Earth, which was visible when they wanted it to be. She screwed-up her face in concentration.
Unnoticed, the girl crept over to Nimbus while he’d been ‘negotiating’, and was currently wrapped so tightly about him, she mimicked an octopus sucking the life from a mollusc. Petals decorated the ground as she seductively ran her fingers through his hair. When did they come of age? This one was clearly far riper than she appeared.
“When you’re ready!” Nimbus gasped from his choke-hold, regretting writing-off professional wrestling and thinking a couple of the moves might come in handy.
He had to unglue the girl’s other hand as it snaked down his back towards unexplored territory. Bacchus was right (another point Nimbus would never mention aloud); he had learned his lesson. If he came out of this with his windpipe intact, he would confine himself in future to observing from afar.
“Shhh! You broke my concentration! It’s not like I’m baking muffins!” Celestial looked at the girl with saintly sympathy. “You stole her dignity, Nimbus. You should be ashamed!”
“Mmm, anchovy muffins.” He stared wistfully off into space.
Celestial renewed her focus, her face red and tense with effort. She looked about ready to lay a Brachiosaur egg, but Nimbus decided commenting was most unwise. Suddenly, she burst into radiant white light, shining brighter than the all the stars combined. Nimbus staggered backwards and the girl crumpled to the ground, a blast of supernatural energy drawing an arc around them. As quickly as it had erupted, the blinding glow was gone. Once again, Celestial was a speck at Nimbus’s shoulder.
The girl jumped to her feet, staring wildly about. She caught sight of Nimbus, and frowned in confusion, inspecting his clothing. He smiled faintly and gave her an encouraging little wave, ruining any possibility of respect. The girl sniggered.
“Nice outfit! It’s refreshing to see a boy who’s not afraid to promote his love of Mardi Gras.”
She made an ‘L’ on her forehead and flounced off, the only trace of her ordeal an exaggerated attachment to wood. She went on to become the worst enemy of tree-loggers everywhere.
Nimbus shook his head sadly. “Love is fickle.”
“I’d call that an improvement. Wouldn’t you?” Celestial asked with a satisfied nod.
“Depends whose side you’re on,” Nimbus murmured. “So, what’s going on upstairs?” He inquired as much out of curiosity as the need to prevent extra telling off.
“The place is completely deserted. I can’t even find Bacchus.”
“Did you check Zeus’s footstool? He often likes to curl up there after…” he trailed off. But it was too late.
Bacchus’ less-than-respectable habits never failed to encourage long, boring speeches from Celestial, this time on their Guide’s disappointing fondness for ambrosia, the nectar of the Gods. In her view such excess was not behaviour befitting their rank. Instead, to Nimbus’s immense surprise, Celestial looked mildly offended he thought her capable of missing the obvious.
“That’s the first place I searched! This has never happened before. I’m worried,” she said almost to herself, blonde spirals jittering in concern. “Come on! If there’s something wrong we have to help.”
Nimbus followed doubtfully in her wake. If there was trouble, what on the Ethereal Realm could they possibly do that all the fully-fledged Angels and Gods could not?
***
Chapter Two
Trouble on the Ethereal Realm
Nimbus often wished Celestial was wrong (which hardly ever happened), because it meant that he was never right, which got tiresome fast. But he had never wished it more so than in this instance. They had searched their inspirational home high in the clouds twice over and not found so much as a feather from their Brethrens’ wings. They brooded in the Chamber of Greats, slouched on luxurious silk-covered day beds, usually occupied by the Most High as they held council. Celestial was clearly on the verge of panic.
“Oh, where can they be?” She picked-up a golden pillow and peered hopefully underneath.
“Well unless they have suddenly become pea-sized, they won’t be under there,” Nimbus said helpfully. Celestial threw him a glare to sizzle a lesser being. “You know, there is one place we haven’t been…”
She stared expectantly, her brow furrowed. “Where?”
“Huitaca’s.”
“Of course! How could I be so stupid!”
Nimbus wondered if he should supply an answer, but opted for dignified silence. Celestial was on the edge right now and he did not want to push her over. Huitaca was the South American Goddess of Drunkenness; equivalent to an embarrassing distant relative, who told off-colour stories at parties, and usually ended up doing a jig on the table with a lampshade on their head. She was not favoured by the Elders.
Nimbus however, liked her very much. She was always laughing and dancing and could do excellent tricks with rainbows and moonbeams. She lived high on a hilltop at the outer edges of their Realm. Bacchus visited her often and they could be heard some nights singing together loudly and very badly. Zeus often sent a quelling lightening bolt their way to stop the awful racket.
“What are we waiting for?” Celestial asked with a renewed sense of purpose. In a blink they arrived on the porch of Huitaca’s home.
Sure enough, evidence of a particularly rowdy night on the cocktails was scattered about: half-eaten fruits from the Horn of Plenty, delicacies from the Land of Milk and Honey, and dirty glasses with dregs of ambrosia covered every patch of marble. Celestial was clearly horrified by the mess, but Nimbus sulked.
“If they had a party, why not invite me? I can mingle.”
“Because you’re underage. And I think the better question is, why have we been given such an irresponsible bum for a Guardian? Look at this spectacle! It’s like the Four Horsemen galloped through. Let’s find Bacchus, I’m looking forward to aggravating his headache.”
“As if,” Nimbus grumbled. “The Four Horsemen are far too trendy for our Realm. And if they did show-up, I’d be the last to know.”
They entered and were immediately greeted with a chorus of snores punctuated by the odd hiccough. Huitaca was nowhere in sight, but Bacchus was spread-eagled on his back on the litter-strewn floor. A full wine glass on his large, hairy belly rose and fell in unison with his snorts. He resembled a slovenly walrus. Celestial was about to empty the contents of the cup over his bald head, when Nimbus grabbed her arm.
“Listen!” he urged in a whisper.
A high-pitched cackle echoed up the hill, and with it footsteps coming their way. Nimbus risked a peek out the window and groaned.
“It’s Jomjael and Ramiel!”
“How in the names of all Saints did they get in here?” Celestial’s eyes went wide in alarm. “Gabriel banned the Black Angels from ever setting foot on the Ethereal Plane! Oh, what are we going to do?”
“Don’t get your halo in a pretzel, Celestial. I have an idea. Help me move Bacchus, will you?”
This proved an ordeal. Bacchus was very heavy and stubbornly limp, and much bigger than the Cherubs. They pulled and pushed, grunting with exertion and painfully aware of the passing seconds. Nimbus briefly lost his grip and Celestial’s face was pressed into Bacchus’s sweat-ridden armpit. She eventually surfaced coughing and spluttering, her nausea-filled face a shade of puce. Nimbus mouthed ‘sorry’ and received a look to make his blood boil (if he actually had any).
Finally, after much un-Angel-like language and uncomplimentary mutterings about the need for Bacchus to embrace personal hygiene and go on a strict diet, they succeeded in propping him against a back wall. Nimbus snapped his fingers and Bacchus became the most unattractive statue ever carved. Celestial draped crumpled robes over his shoulders in the hopes he’d be mistaken for a coat rack.
“Strike a pose!”
She looked warily at him. “Will I ever recover from this?”
“Thanks for the faith. It’s more a parlour trick anyway.” Nimbus prayed this was true.
Celestial did as she was told, holding both hands out, palms face up, and he was grateful for the trust. He clicked again, making her a convincing book-stand. He lay open the book Bacchus had slept on across her hands, and then shrunk himself, taking the guise of an artfully placed Cupid on a side table. He finished the ruse just in time.
Jam and Ram, as they were known to their ruffian gang of Fallen Angels, entered, scanning the room with distasteful expressions. Ram wore only a loin cloth, his counterpart tight black leather pants. Their bodies were toned and powerful, their faces misleadingly beautiful. Unlike the Cherubs, their eyes were ebony and hair dark.
“What a dump! Who’s the decorator, Chaos?” Ram let out a mighty burp and Jam giggled manically, his huge grey wings jiggling.
“My thoughts precisely.” Jam lifted a leg to fart long and forcefully.
Nimbus was flabbergasted he didn’t blow his own leg off. A foul reek filled the room and it was all they could do not to vomit. The stench made Bacchus’s underarm odour rose-water by comparison.
“Get a load of this grotesque thing!” Ram moved over to inspect the stone-bound Bacchus. “Make’s the boss’s gargoyle collection look like Helen of Troy!”
Nimbus thought his assessment a bit harsh, but did not have time to dwell on it as he was hoisted into the air.
“Mmm, Helen of Troy,” Jam said with a smarmy grin, turning his attention to Nimbus. “Ugh! This is worse.”
Now, Nimbus was truly offended. He thought he made a lovely Cupid and resented an insult from such a ponce, who obviously spent too much time smooching himself in the mirror. Jam used Nimbus’s extended foot to pick his nose, slime oozing his leg. Nimbus mentally shuddered, working very hard not to lash out and kick Jam in the eye.
“I think it would look better without its head.” Ram reached over his back to extract an evil-looking curved sword from between glossy brown wings.
This was an unfortunate development. Maybe now was the time to go against his own advice and panic. Jam dropped him to the table and hopped excitedly from foot to foot in anticipation of wanton destruction. Ram raised the sword and Nimbus knew he had no choice but to reveal himself, and probably his friends, by re-materialising. Then the hunt would be on. Just as the sword began its downward sweep, a quiet voice issued from the door.
“What are you doing?”
The blade stopped a millimetre from Nimbus’s neck and Ram fumbled guiltily to hide the sword at his rear like a child playing pick-a-hand.
“Y-you know.” He trembled with fear. “We’re searching for the Book.”
Jam nodded madly, his alarm obvious. It was one of the leaders of the Fallen. Known as Azazel, he was a creature of immeasurable spite. He wore a black gossamer tunic and a crown of black opals and pearls, massive pitch wings shining.
“It seems to me, you were indulging a spot of vandalism. Perhaps, I should inform the Great One and he can provide you with a more appropriate outlet for your games.” He spoke softly, yet menace radiated in his tone. Nimbus could only imagine fearfully what punishment in Hell consisted of.
Ram went white. “No, no, no. That won’t be necessary, Master. We have scoured this place! The Book is not here,” he grovelled untruthfully. Jam shook his head energetically, stressing the point.
“I want the Book of Lore, no excuses. You are not to return without it. We can hold the Elders for three days, no more. That is the time you have and I warn you not to fail me.” He vanished, a hint of sulphur on the air.
Jam and Ram were invigorated by his departure and started searching in earnest. They overturned chairs, upended bookcases to examine the books and toss them onto a pile in the middle of the floor, ripped upholstery and rifled drawers. Celestial was bumped in the process and the book in her hands fell unnoticed to join the others heaped on the ground.
“It’s no use! It’s not here,” Ram said, his shoulders slumping dismally.
“But we have searched everywhere,” Jam whined. “I hate it here. It’s too … clean.” He moved to Celestial, viewing her up close for the first time. Reaching out, he lightly touched her cheek. “Wow, this one’s stunning!”
“Will you focus? I do not fancy an eternal journey through Beelzebub’s intestine as a tapeworm, which is probably the best we can expect if we don’t find that Book! We have to start over. We’ve missed it somewhere along the way.”
Jam grumbled under-breath, agreeing half-heartedly. He picked Celestial up in a bear-hug, carrying her towards the door. Nimbus was torn between stopping him or rescuing her later, after an extended period free from lectures.
“What are you doing?” screeched Ram.
“I like this. I’m taking it with me.”
“How in Satan’s boils do you propose to carry it and search at the same time? Unlike some, you only have two arms! Leave it. You can come back for it when we’re done.”
Jam saw sense in the suggestion and gently placed Celestial on the divan. He licked her long and sloppily on the cheek. And then they were gone. Celestial and Nimbus re-animated in parallel states of agitation.
“Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom!” She gagged convulsively and flapped her hand at her spit-stained cheek.
“You got off easy!” Nimbus hopped gracelessly on one foot with his snot-soiled leg extended. They made the doorway in a tangled wedge of feathers and limbs.
“Don’t let it touch me!” Celestial shouted, attempting to distance herself from further contamination. “I got Bacchus-germs as well.” After much shoving and cursing they burst through, to soak themselves in every last drop of Huitaca’s disinfectant.
“Wake up! You worthless dung beetle,” Celestial yelled a short while later. She amplified the message by crashing a large pair of cymbals next to Bacchus’s head.
Nimbus stuck his fingers in his ears. Bacchus’ eyes flew open in shock, his face ruddy. He favoured the monk style of hairdo and had a thin circle of ginger hair ringing his head. Apparently, that was not the only thing ringing as he blearily rubbed his assaulted ears. He sat in a messy slouch on the lounge, his grubby robes leaving nothing to the imagination and looking almost as worse for wear as he did.
“Really, there’s no need to shout my dear.” He gestured for her to tone it down and primly adjusted his clothing.
“Too little, too late,” Nimbus griped, the lingering and most unsavoury image of Bacchus’s man-boobs floating in his head. Celestial clapped the cymbals again and Bacchus winced theatrically. Unprepared for the clash this time, Nimbus lost his patience.
“Give me those!”
He tossed them into the air where they evaporated. Celestial crossed her arms and looked crabby. Bacchus glanced around.
“Things must have got a tad unmanageable last night. Although I do not recall making such a mess. I had the most disconcerting vision,” he said, as he massaged his sweat-shined cranium. “I feel a bit stiffer than usual.”
“With the barrels you put away, it’s astonishing you have any memory cells left at all!” Celestial retorted waspishly. “And it was not a vision!”
Bacchus sniffed indignantly. “There is nothing the least bit wrong with a civilised sup between friends. Purely medicinal, you understand. It’s good for the constitution.” He patted his rotund belly as if this proved the point. It sounded to Nimbus like the sloshing of a wine-filled gourd. He interjected before Celestial’s pious streak kicked-in.
“Quit quibbling. This is an emergency! The Fallen have the Elders imprisoned somewhere and some of them are on our plane, searching for the Book of Lore as we speak, or argue as the case may be. We have three days in which to locate the Book and… I don’t know… Stop the Fallen in their task… Whatever it is!”
Nimbus shuddered as an unpleasant vision of being shoved up a giant nose to drown in mucus came unbidden to consciousness. He vowed to be prepared at all times and materialised a snorkel for just in case.
Celestial eyed him suspiciously. “What is that you’re holding?”
“Security,” he muttered, hiding it in his robe.
“Back-up, Nimbus!” Bacchus spluttered. “The Elders and the Book are lost?”
“So it seems,” Celestial answered sullenly, still smarting from the premature loss of her cymbals.
“But I had the Book with me last night. Here, in this very room!”
Celestial and Nimbus looked at each other. With a potent waft of pine-scent, they simultaneously dropped to their knees and scrambled through the mess on the floor, seeking the book bumped out of Celestial’s hands.
“Got it!” Nimbus triumphantly held up a plain, red, leather-bound specimen.
“I knew there was a good reason the Elders did not RSVP. Confinement against one’s will is a suitable excuse for non-attendance.” Bacchus rambled to himself, seemingly unperturbed by the growing calamity.
“Now what?” Celestial ignored Bacchus’s infuriating diversion from the point.
“Well, considering your oaf of a boyfriend will return soon to whisk you away on a romantic date at the zombie carnival, probably complete with maggots and body parts, I’m in favour of leaving here as soon as possible.”
“Ahh, young love.” Bacchus stared off, paying the barest attention to Nimbus’s words. “I must tell you about the time I developed a soft spot for Medusa. She’s really not a bad as they say. Such prejudice over a few asps! To avoid being turned into stone one simply needs to focus on her feet…” And, like so many occasions before, he launched into one of his lengthy meandering stories as the Cherubs readied to flee their beloved sanctuary.
***
Chapter Three
A Visit to Jinx
“I do not travel well! Unfamiliar climates disagree with my bunions,” Bacchus maintained stubbornly.
“Wow, Bacchus! I had no idea you were so brave! Giving us that daft bunion story, when actually you want to stay and protect our home from the Hordes of the Doomed. They will definitely return to help find the Book. Staying behind alone, even though you will be incredibly out-numbered. Your courage is just so admirable!”
“Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?” Nimbus whispered in Celestial’s ear.
“This is not the time for subtlety,” she replied, as Bacchus fidgeted nervously and mumbled to himself.
“Yes, well in my day of course. Bit of a warrior, heroic deeds and all that.” He waved an airy hand. “But now… Age has taken its toll –”
“And senility!” Nimbus couldn’t help himself and received the swift jab of an arrow in his rear-end.
“Hush!” Celestial murmured, as Nimbus grouchily rubbed his pin-cushioned butt. “He’s coming around.”
“-- reflexes not what they were… Not up to rash actions … And I have my charges to consider. Can’t leave the innocent babes to fend for themselves in the big cruel world. No... No, it would be better if I accompanied them on this sojourn, provided words of wisdom and fulfilled my role as counsellor. Yes, the decision’s made then. I’m coming!” He announced the last loudly.
“I just require a moment to gather essentials.” And Bacchus vanished, only to reappear burdened with numerous packages and bundled sacks strapped across his body. A wooden yoke draped with flagons, bunches of drying herbs, strings of berries, an assortment of spare sashes to decorate his robes and one large dead peacock, protruded from both shoulders.
“What in the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World are you carrying?” raged Celestial.
“Supplies,” he said defensively. “I don’t think ambrosia is available on Earth. Just in case that’s where we end up. And they really do a lousy deep-fried peacock!”
Nimbus snickered, thinking their guardian looked like a comical scarecrow overloaded with hanging fruit bats. There was, however, nothing comical about Celestial’s reaction.
“Unbelievable! Well if you pack it, you carry it! And if you slow us down, we will leave you behind! So--”
“Err,” Nimbus thwarted what would undoubtedly prove an extended tirade. “Now seems like a great time to inquire as to destination?”
“Yes!” Celestial said. “Where do you recommend we go, Bacchus? That is if you’re not too loaded to move!”
“I wish I was loaded,” he grumbled resentfully. “As you know, only the Most High can read the Book of Lore in its entirety. They alone are worthy of all its knowledge. The Book shows to others precisely what’s required knowledge for each rank. Cherubs, for instance, are privy to the Rules for Fledgling Angels. I can access Rules for Fledging Angels and Their Guardians, and some other chapters on catering for large functions and party decoration for community gatherings. The Book may shed light on what is happening, because even the Fallen are somewhat bound by its laws.” Bacchus looked relieved to exercise his usefulness for once. “So, I suggest we visit the only other translator of tongues available in the Elders’ absence. Jinx!”
Nimbus let out an agonised groan, but Celestial was clearly pleased. “That’s brilliant! I love the highlands of Papua New Guinea at this time of year. I have just the hat!”
“Please, please! Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine!” Nimbus laid on the melodrama. “Does anybody remember I’m not immune to Jinx’s bad luck? How could we forget the treasured occasion, without unleashing an arrow mind you, I had to fend off an extended family of love-crazed porcupines! I was pulling out quills for a month. Can someone please inform me of the purpose of such prickly animals?”
“Yes, but --”
“No, please allow me to continue, Celestial. Then, there was the time I came back from her house with a severe speech impediment. I swore like a demon every time I blinked for five whole days!” Nimbus’s voice was tinged with hysteria. “As penance for my potty-mouth I had to clean out Jupiter’s spittoon with a cotton bud and no powers. And he did not stop using it in the process! Have you seen how big that thing is? I almost drowned in phlegm! Or the facial fungus; I sprouted blue fur and had to shave six times a day! Or, and I’m leaving the best for last --”
“Enough already!” Celestial thundered. “I’m sorry for your woes, Nimbus, I really am. But this is more important than you, or I, or Bacchus. Besides, I have heard some Angels grow into their immunity and it has been a while since we’ve seen Jinx. Maybe, you’ll be fine this time.”
“Celestial’s right my boy. We must face our fears in order to overcome them.”
Nimbus rolled his eyes at this trite lesson from Good Angelling 101. Clearly, Bacchus had never confronted a rabid gang of porcupines obsessed with obtaining a particular Cherub for a mate!
“Okay. I hope you’re right about this, Celestial.” Nimbus secretly thought that knowing his luck around Jinx, this would be a rare case of her getting it wrong. “Let’s go then,” he said grudgingly.
Just as they were poised to leave, the Cherubs taking the lead, there was a gigantic crash. They spun to see Bacchus sprawled face first on the ground, his big backside in the air and his arms flailing, his head stuck in the peacock carcass. One of his sashes -- a fluorescent pink and yellow polka-dotted number -- had tangled about his knobbly knees with disastrous effect. Muffled yells could be heard through bird flesh.
“Quick! He’ll suffocate in there!” Celestial rushed to his aid.
She yanked and pulled, one foot jammed on his shoulder, until Bacchus’s head re-emerged with a loud pop! Nimbus remained on the side-lines, stifling amusement. He received a mutinous grimace from a hassled-looking Bacchus.
“Most generous, Celestial. Many thanks.”
Nimbus feigned innocence. “I just thought facing the inside of a peacock’s butt might resemble facing your fears.”
After Celestial stripped Bacchus of considerable baggage -- he was left with only one flagon of ambrosia and a plain spare sash for his robe (with many objections and grumbles like; “I do hope we don’t dine out. I’ll be underdressed!”) -- they were finally off in the tiny twinkle of a baby’s eye.
The trio arrived at the bottom of a steep hill, faced with a narrow path that carved windingly up through dense rainforest. The sounds of exotic birds whooping high in the trees met their ears. The air was laden with the mingled scents of tropical flowers. Nimbus became increasingly jittery.
“Maybe I can stay down here and you two can get the information?”
Celestial stared pointedly at him through a gauzy screen. “Stop being such a coward. We all need to hear this. Now, come on!”
Admittedly, Nimbus thought it impossible to take her usual unyielding tone seriously, given Celestial balanced what appeared to be a humongous tortoise shell on her head, complete with dangling corks and camouflaged mosquito netting draped to her shoulders. He refrained from laughing with great difficulty. Her attempts at haute couture fashion were a somewhat hit and miss affair.
Half a slowly trudged hour later with much complaining from a sweaty and breathless Bacchus, forced to endure unceasing “I told-you-so’s” on the merits of lighter packing from Celestial, Jinx’s heavily fortified stone compound came into view. She chose such isolation as much to protect others, as for the unbelievable views over a vast unspoilt wilderness. Jinx favoured the Corporeal Realm and lived on Earth. Although, Nimbus had heard unconfirmed rumours the Greek deity of war, Athena, politely suggested relocation on account of the fact many more of her soldiers tripped and mortally fell on their swords when Jinx was nearby.
She welcomed them enthusiastically at the door. Cleopatra stole her look off the wall from a shrine in Egypt: pitch beaded hair, wrapped layers of sheer material covering her body and numerous articles of chunky gold jewellery. “Come in, come in! It’s been so long since I’ve had visitors!”
“I wonder why,” Nimbus grouched unkindly.
He lagged behind Celestial as a safeguard when they entered. He noticed Jinx no longer jingled, unencumbered in her own home by the bells that usually cautioned the unwary of her approach.
“Bacchus too! Wonderful! Oh, and thank you for the you know-what’s you sent.” She winked at him confidentially, her black eyes sparkling.
“Not at all, any time!” he beamed.
Distrust ruled Celestial’s features. Bacchus was known to trade in suspect relics, some of which were outright illegal. He once foolishly attempted to sell Poseidon’s storm-trident, believing it to be a replica, and received two weeks in the watery depths supervising the God of the Seas’ pet Kraken for his troubles. Bacchus still broke out in nervous hives at the merest mention of the word ‘squid’.
“Please, have a seat. Nice hat, Celestial!”
Celestial flushed. “Do you think so?” she said, pulling the netting to the top of the curve so that she now resembled a Bedouin with the world’s largest turban.
Nimbus was too busy fretting to notice. Bacchus very considerately averted his gaze and cleared his throat behind a hand. They seated themselves on benches surrounding a long table, with Nimbus positioned as far as possible from Jinx at the other end.
She peered at him apologetically. “I’m so sorry about the noses, Nimbus!”
On their last trip, Nimbus sprouted noses all over his body giving him an unpleasantly acute sense of smell. “There are some odours that should never be sniffed,” he muttered darkly.
Without permitting him further scope to elaborate, Celestial launched straight into their reason for coming. “We need you to interpret the Book of Lore for us. There’s something terrible happening upstairs. The Elders have disappeared!”
“Blessed me!” Jinx exclaimed.
“It is a rather long and stirring story,” Bacchus interrupted. “May I suggest some fortifying nutrition to ease the telling? Possibly some honeyed wine?”
Nimbus leaped to his feet. Several of his feathers dislodged and floated breezily about. “I’ll get it! I haven’t cooked for a while.”
He left for the kitchen with only a minor stumble, one rebound off the wall and a single shattered pottery vase, which Jinx put right in a flash. He returned relatively unscathed with several minor burns and an eye-patch covering a watering left eye (Jinx’s extra hot chilli powder had toppled from an overhead shelf), to place a large terrine and ladle on the table.
“Tortellini and chocolate sauce!”
Everybody except Celestial busied themselves sorting napkins and cutlery and filling bowls. She leaned out from the table, avidly inspecting something on the ground that trailed from the kitchen.
“Do you think it needs shredded coconut?” Nimbus queried, more feathers hovering around his head. “Oh, and I think I made the eternal pilot flame go out on your oven, Jinx.” There was sudden silence and Nimbus looked up to a circle of faces frozen in alarm.
“Umm, you’re shedding dear boy,” Bacchus said, pointing uncertainly at Nimbus’s right wing.
Jinx appeared truly distressed. Slowly, Nimbus spread the indicated wing out to its full extension, staring straight ahead as a deluge of feathers invaded the room. Every individual feather avalanched to the floor. Jinx gasped.
“Don’t look, Nimbus!” Celestial advised, readjusting her features in a cheerful, if not entirely convincing, smile. “It’s normal to moult… Now and then… For some… On one wing…”
“How bad is it?” he asked dully, receiving the less than positive news in their expressions. He visibly steeled himself and turned to his wing.
“Agghh!” What had been densely covered in lustrous, startlingly white, downy feathers, now resembled a plucked turkey wing. “Not feather-rot!” He collapsed pathetically to his chair and put his head in his hands. “Cover me, I’m hideous,” he wailed, sounding not unlike the girl he’d accidentally shot with his arrow the day before.
Celestial sighed at Nimbus’s histrionics. “If the past is anything to go by, this will be temporary, Nimbus. Here have some tortellini.”
She eyed the contents of the bowl doubtfully but refrained from making matters worse by crushing his deluded faith in his own cooking ability. Dislodging her unwieldy hat to place it on a sideboard, she flickered next to Nimbus, producing a white cotton sheet and gently wrapping the offending limb in a sling. She patted him bracingly.
He snuffled and commenced eating glumly while the others spoke. Bacchus quietly prevented Jinx from apologising again to avoid traumatising Nimbus further, and encouraged her to start on the Book by pushing it her way. She placed a hand on the cover and it grew enormously from a slim diary-sized volume to a huge fat version covering almost a third of the table.
“I’m not allowed to share knowledge with you that you don’t have access to, but I can place you on the road that will move you from ignorance to illumination.” Jinx closed her eyes, scanning to and fro beneath their lids. They snapped open. “The answers lie in the Cave of Unknowns. You are granted three questions each over a lifetime, so you must choose them carefully.”
“Excellent!” Celestial exclaimed. “Surely with nine questions between us we can sort the Sacred from the Heathens and discover what’s going on!” Bacchus cleared his throat and looked decidedly shifty. Celestial paid no attention. “Where is the Cave?” she asked.
“That is unknown,” Jinx replied mystically.
Celestial snorted in frustration and started to vent her feelings when Bacchus cleared his throat again. “I know where the Cave of Unknowns is located,” he said miserably.
Celestial glared at him suspiciously. “I imagine I’m going to regret this. Have you been there, Bacchus?”
“Three times,” said Bacchus guiltily. “It’s a bit of a story, actually --”
“We’ll have the express version, please!” Celestial snapped.
He continued in a monotone. “Hermes and I had a wager on what remains in Pandora’s Box, after all her evils are expelled. I thought that my guess of a double-cheese pizza might not be quite correct. So I did a bit of research. Turns out it’s hope, of course. Made a tidy sum, too,” he reminisced, clearly please with himself.
“You cheated, and you wasted a question.” Celestial glowered dangerously at him. “And!?”
“I desired to know how to get a date with a very attractive Valkyrie. She had the most magnificent jerkins! That was a bit of an ordeal really. Turns out you need to be a Viking slain in battle.”
Jinx shifted uncomfortably in the background. Celestial’s eyes faded to a threatening storm-cloud grey, her temper seriously close to igniting.
“Please inform me, of all the infinite grand and important questions available, which would an undeserving wretch such as yourself waste his final privileged gift on?”
Her teeth ground together. Bacchus winced.
“Tantalus refused to give me his recipe for deep-fried peacock.”
Nimbus spoke. “I’ve had a thought.”
“So that makes just the one then? Good for you, it’s critical to begin somewhere.”
Celestial tried for levity to boost Nimbus’s flattened self-esteem, while hurling spears at Bacchus with every glance. Nimbus smiled faintly, almost tempted to make fun of her hat but maturely rising above his petty urges. “Jam and Ram will go back to Huitaca’s and we won’t be there. They’ll put ‘Holy’ and ‘Grail’ together and come after us like King Arthur on the Crusades.”
“You’re right, Nimbus.” Celestial was crestfallen. “We’ve put Jinx in deadly peril!”
Jinx laughed heartily. “Thanks for the concern, Celestial. They have more to fear from me than me from them. Those black-hearted puppets have never been here. They won’t have a scrap of immunity at all. Now hurry away before they arrive and remember, choose your questions well.”
Nimbus experienced fleeting sympathy for Jam and Ram, despite their attempt to behead him. His eye throbbed painfully, competing with an assortment of bruises, and his wing hung limp and featherless by his side, naked for the world to see.
***
Chapter Four
Three Questions
“Well, places of ancient mystery are not supposed to be easy to locate!” Bacchus said, after taking a wrong turn for the second time. “It starts with a ‘V’, I think,” he mumbled.
Nimbus stood forlornly on the volcanic rim of Kilauea by a very antagonised Celestial. He was too depressed to enjoy the spectacular lava flows, or help as she went through all the ‘V’s’ on the map.
“We are wasting what little time we have! Venezuela, Victoria, Vancouver!” she listed desperately. “Vladivostok, Volsk, Venice!”
“Galapagos!” Bacchus exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “It’s an undersea cliff-cave, off the Island of Marchena.”
Celestial’s jaw clenched. Nimbus worried she might push her teeth back into her gums, what with all the grinding. “What happened to ‘V’?” she hissed perilously.
“Clearly,” Bacchus said patiently, “‘V’ rhymes with ‘G’.”
“Clearly! Come along, Nimbus.”
Guiding him gently by the elbow, they disappeared and made the underwater cavity of the tiny island a moment later. They stood in a huge dim antechamber, with ancient urns, scattered mounds of treasure and flickering wall-mounted torches lighting the area. Iguanas teemed over the cave floor, sidling away in an alarmed wall of bodies like the parting of the Red Sea, as the Angels entered.
Celestial balanced precariously on tiptoe looking anxious. “Not reptiles. I hate reptiles!”
“At least they’re not porcupines,” Nimbus said robustly.
Relief not to be the one suffering for a change, competed with his guilt over such selfishness. As well as the lizards, the Cherubs were surprised to note, they were not alone. In the middle stood chairs and a table with the remnants of a recent meal.
“Oh, no,” groaned Bacchus. “How could I forget!” He slapped his forehead -- a tad forcefully -- compelled to rub it better.
“Bacchus! My good man! Finally come to pay your debt?” rumbled the huge Minotaur advancing from a gloomed recess towards them.
He lumbered forward, his hand outstretched in readiness to favour Bacchus with a bone-crunching grip. Nimbus suspected there could be a smile spread across the bovine face, but it was difficult to be sure.
“Is he happy to see us, or preparing to feast?” Celestial nervously echoed his thoughts.
It could just as easily be a scowl. “Get ready to fly,” he whispered. The creature’s hugeness, long sharp horns, large golden nose-ring and swishing cow’s tail on a bulkily muscled human form were more than a tad intimidating.
“Major Bull, wonderful to see you again.” Bacchus flinched, gingerly extracting his crushed hand. “May I present my charges, Celestial and Nimbus.”
“Marvellous to meet you both at last. Bacchus has told me much about you! Please, while you are here, make yourselves at home,” he said, stretching his arms wide in welcome. Nimbus was extremely relieved not to have to shake his hand. The bruises sustained at Jinx’s still ached and he did not fancy adding to his collection.
“The Birds will be thrilled to have company. It’s been a while! I will go fetch them and we can catch up. After we’ve completed our business transaction, of course.”
The Major threw what might have been a shrewd glance in Bacchus’s direction -- it was hard to tell. Bacchus nodded and returned an edgy, tight little grin as the Minotaur exited via a side tunnel.
“Well, he seems like a lovely chap,” Nimbus said.
Celestial pressed her lips together reprovingly. “Yes, he does. Although, labelling females ‘birds’ is borderline offensive! What did you do to him, Bacchus? The Major seems a bit unhappy with you. Did you steal the Sacred Brahma? We really do not have time for trouble.”
“How could you insinuate such a thing? Nothing at all to be concerned about, my dear! Just a little wager between pals,” he appeased, his expression unconvincing.
Celestial sighed, her lack of conviction obvious. “Excellent! Pay him and we can get on with the task at wing.” Nimbus gave her an aggrieved look. “Oops, sorry Nimbus. I did not mean to remind you of your feather-rot. It’s just a figure of speech. Besides, I don’t think you’re as bald as you were. Your feathers are coming back!”
There was no time to celebrate, as odd chattering echoed from the Minotaur’s tunnel. Bacchus shifted uneasily as Celestial rounded on him, eyes wide, finger jabbing in accusation.
She whispered harshly, “Is that who I think it is?!”
Nimbus blinked dumbly in the direction of the sounds. Maybe he should pay more attention. It was frustrating to barely gain a participation ribbon in the knowledge race with Celestial. For once he’d like to come first or even achieve a placing. At least be competitive and not stretchered off the field before making the starting blocks.
“Harpies?” Celestial turned a grim shade of purple. “You’ve been fraternising with criminal elements again, haven’t you?”
“I do not fraternise! And that’s rather judgemental, Celestial. The accusations were groundless, the punishment of exile extreme,” Bacchus huffed.
Celestial wound-up, glowing like a firefly. Nimbus was unpleasantly reminded of an air-raid siren. He intervened, before either could mount a prolonged defensive.
“Hello, I’m Nimbus. Lovely to meet you.”
His outstretched hand dangled awkwardly as one of the bird-like creatures politely attempted to shake it with her wing tip, offering a toothy grin. Nimbus hoped she was not hungry, her teeth and talons looked sharp and past experience with pointy things had given him a justifiable phobia. He repeated the process with the other two. They were really quiet sweet, with the bodies of colourful little wrens and tiny human faces. Major Bull made the introductions given that he was the only one available to translate their cheeps.
“People call them Storm, Blackness and Rapid,” he snorted disdainfully. “But to those who know better, they are Wren, Robin and Sparrow. They would like me to inform you that they are delighted to make your acquaintance. Even that of the rude girl Cherub.”
Celestial turned scarlet. It was one thing to slander them out of earshot, but totally another to get caught at it. Nimbus was surprised by the fact they’d nailed his sister so quickly, before tamping the shameful satisfaction deep inside. She stuttered out an abashed apology.
“They won’t hold your unfortunate misconceptions against you by resisting the impulse to peck your eyes out.”
“Thank you,” she stammered, to an ongoing chorus of chirps.
Major Bull nodded, necessitating a hasty retreat before someone lost an eye on his horns. “The whole spectacle was a nasty misunderstanding. The Harpies no longer hang out with the Furies, returned every human ever stolen in practically brand new condition, except for a couple that were genuinely misplaced, and have embraced vegetarianism. In my own defence, I have always been a herbivore and could not possibly have eaten all those villagers. Would not agree with my digestion!” The Harpies embellished the telling with animated twittering.
“People simply have terrible navigational skills. I tried to guide them out of the labyrinth, but they fled screaming in the opposite direction. Surely, I should not be held responsible for their refusal of my assistance and loss in the crevices of the maze? After all, it was I left to clean up the mess, rotting bodies oozing all over my nice marble floors. And the smell!”
Celestial’s mouth hung open. “Err, of course not. That all seems reasonable. Well done,” she babbled. “I am deeply sorry for causing offence and promise to consider all sides before forming opinions in future.”
Nimbus admired her restraint. Celestial felt dishonoured enough not to point-out, if she so desired, she could incinerate them in a breath.
They were invited to sit and without delay, Major Bull asked, “Well, Bacchus. Where are my arrows?”
It seemed Nimbus’s view that Celestial would reduce beings to ashes today was premature in regard to Bacchus. She was positively incandescent with rage.
“You’ve been betting with our arrows!” she howled incredulously. “If the Most High hear about this you will be relegated to purgatory for infinity!”
“Speaking of the most high,” Nimbus shouted her down. “Can we concentrate on the situation? Jam and Ram may be useless gibbons, but we’re sure going out of our way to help them along with all these delays. And what if they send someone higher up? We’re really stuck in the nectar jar then.”
Celestial immediately saw the sense in this. “Bacchus stay here and sort something out. If we are minus even a single fletch from an arrow by the time I return, I shall inform the Egypt Quarter you’re the one who’s been thieving Ra’s Sunrays and trading them for Pearls of Wisdom. Which, it’s plain you have failed to apply!”
Bacchus inhaled sharply. “You would never!”
“Try me!” Celestial dared.
“Pardon me, speaking of trades. What have you brought in offering for the Cave of Unknowns?” Major Bull asked, with a curious tilt of his massive head.
“Offering?” Nimbus sighed and exchanged a bleak expression with Celestial. “What in Saturn’s breakfast have we got to exchange? We can’t risk materialising anything from under the noses of those above. Then they’ll know for sure someone’s escaped their clutches!”
“Is nothing straight forward?” Celestial visibly wilted.
Bacchus braved combustion in Celestial’s fury. “It’s a shame I’m not equipped with my original luggage, plenty to donate from that.”
“And none of it yours, no doubt!” Celestial took a moment to gather composure, smoothing her tunic. “Major Bull can you suggest anything we are in possession of that may work as a gift?”
“Well, the Voice of Unknowns has been stroppy of late. Keeps rambling on about not getting out enough, no news getting through from the wide world. So possibly, you could offer information…” He thought for a moment. “Or better still. Gossip!”
Celestial began to object. Nimbus perceived the rave in his head, as clear as Zeus’s Welcome Bells, before she’d even opened her mouth. She proceeded in a sing-song voice with a nasal inflection (maybe he added that). “We are Fledging Angels, not entertainment reporters. None of the Elders tell us anything of interest, proclaiming we are too young and inexperienced to understand. Surely, Bacchus is the rumour-monger for the job, if only he had not already exhausted his chances!”
Nimbus leaped to his feet, hauling a startled Celestial upright. “That’s a miraculous idea! Thank you, Major Bull. Celestial, come on!” He grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the furthest opening at the back of the cave, nudging lizards out of the way as he went.
“What are you doing? We don’t have anything worthwhile to share!” Celestial warily picked her way through the scaly handbags with legs.
“You know your problem, Celestial?”
“I was unaware I had one,” she answered snippily.
“You’re too anchored in reality. The Voice of Unknowns has not been out for centuries. How will it know the difference between fact and fiction? We can make up anything and it’ll be good enough!”
“You mean lie?”
“Technically, yes. Surely a minor infringement is acceptable in gaining major advantage over evil? You have to admit, it’s a bit of a grey area. Besides, we’ve got no choice. Unless you’d like to trade your arrows?”
This last was thrown in to reinitiate Celestial’s outrage at Bacchus and divert her attention from the untruths they were about to fabricate. Nimbus mentally gave himself a pat on the back for his cleverly manipulative skills; Gabriel could seek psychological know-how from him in future.
“Oh, very sophisticated, Nimbus. Dishonesty it is!” she said primly, as they entered a large, eerily luminous-green cavern. “I have no intention of forgetting our ‘Guardian’s’,” she layered the word with scepticism, “latest sin, but I am after all a professional. I am perfectly capable of getting the job done. No matter how unpleasant.” Nimbus curtly farewelled his self-congratulation. “Be very careful what you say, Nimbus. We cannot afford to loose a question.”
A high, argumentative voice emanated about the close space. The Cherubs squinted in its direction and made out a light twitching across the back wall.
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