Dust Read online

  'It's amazing,' I said, threading my arms through Josh's. 'I know I've never met him, but he's still here.'

  'He's gone.'

  'No. He's still here. I can feel him. There is a part of him that will always be here.'

  'There are books here that were thought to have been lost to humankind.' I could hear the immense pride in his voice.

  'What a life he must have led. All these books to read,' I said.

  'He couldn't read them, not properly, not at the end. They couldn't provide him with the comfort he needed. His sight was very bad.' His voice cracked as he spoke. He shook his head. 'Listen to me, the fraud, mourning over someone that I'd only known for a few months.'

  'No. You're not. It doesn't matter how long you knew him. You're allowed to miss him.' I unhooked my arms from around him and ran my hands through his silky black wings. 'Sometimes people come into our lives for a short space of time, but they often make the greatest impact. It's okay to feel sad. To miss him. To cry.' I realised as I spoke that I was also talking to myself. These were things I wish someone had told me when I lost my father. I also knew I was speaking about my life with Josh. I could feel the sadness welling up inside me. One day soon, I knew, I would have to say goodbye to him.

  His body began to shake as his sadness wrapped him up in its arms, and his tears, pent up inside him for so long, finally escaped.

  After a while, the tears stopped flowing.

  'I'm sorry,' he said.

  'Don't be.' I placed a kiss between his wings. 'You ok?'

  He nodded.

  'Do you need a moment? Alone?'

  'Again he nodded. 'Thank you.'

  'Shall I go and grab us some food and stuff?'

  'Yeah,' he said, 'that would be good.'

  'Anything in particular you want?'

  He shook his head, but I could tell what he really wanted was something that neither of us could give him.

  Outside, the day was beginning break. Somewhere, although I couldn't see where, the sun was just about peeping above the horizon. Brownstone townhouses, theatres, and church spires rose up towards the sky, the harsh skyline softened by green shrubs, gingko trees and towering oaks.

  I made my way down to the grocery store I'd seen earlier. I yawned as I browsed through the cleaning products. The house was really dirty so I picked up some dusters and cleaning sprays, along with bread, butter, milk, and cookies. At times, my fantasy world was proving quite ordinary. I needed coffee but I couldn't reach the shelf.

  'Do you want some help?' asked a tall blond guy who had appeared next to me.

  'Erm…' I felt myself reddening under his gaze. 'What?'

  'Do you want help to reach the coffee?'

  'Oh, yes. Thanks. That one, I can't reach it,' I said, pointing at it with a flick of my head.

  'This one?' he asked, pulling a silver canister off the shelf and holding it out for me to see.

  'Yes, thanks.'

  'I'll take it to the counter for you.'

  'Oh great, thanks.' He was incredibly good looking with tanned skin and dark, dark eyes that seemed to pull you in. His accent was strange, I couldn't quite place it.

  'What's an English rose doing out here in Harlem?'

  'I…erm…' I couldn't think straight. It was like he was messing around in my mind. 'I'm on holiday...with my boyfriend. We just got here.'

  'Oh, okay,' he said, placing my coffee on the counter, 'are you here for long?'

  I looked up at him as he slipped his sunglasses on. 'I don't know,' I said, suddenly feeling cold and uneasy.

  'Might see you around,' he said.

  'Yeah, maybe.'

  I left the shop and headed back up the road to Obadiah's house, struggling under the bags of shopping. Josh had pulled off all the boards from the front of the house, leaving patches of cleaner brick and wood where the boards had protected them from the elements.

  I knocked on the door and Josh opened it. He stood in the doorway with a sad smile, scruffy black hair and black jeans. I wanted to throw my arms around him and eat him all up.

  He took the bags from me, put them on the floor, and grabbed my hand. He pulled me into the house and kissed me. Long and slow and hot.

  'You are amazing,' he said, as I tried to catch my breath, 'and thank you.'

  'For what?'

  'For just being you.'

  Obadiah's house was now flooded with light. The walls were even more amazing in the light of the day, stacked high with books, vellums and gas lamps, and a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. It had the effect of making Obadiah's house look like a huge tower from inside. For a moment I felt like Rapunzel staring up to the top of her tower. It made me feel a little giddy and overwhelmed.

  Josh picked up the bags and emptied the contents onto the cleaned table. 'I've made us some coffee, there was a little bit left,' he said, taking out a chocolate cookie and handing it to me.

  I wolfed it down. I didn't realize how hungry I was, but then, I hadn't eaten for hours. Or slept for that matter.

  'So,' I said, grabbing the mug of coffee and taking a sip of the dark, sweet liquid, 'I suppose we ought to get to it.' Even though all I wanted to do was sleep. 'Where do we start? What are we looking for?' So much wasted time. So much to waste our time. So little time left together. Fear, regret and loss stabbed at my insides. I pushed the feelings away.

  'The Spear of Longinus.'

  'The spear used to pierce Jesus' side after the crucifixion?'

  'Yes,' he said with a nod of the head, 'It's the only relic that hasn't been found. Hyperion already has the Holy Grail and we have the Book of Solomon.'

  'Are you sure it's safe in St John's?'

  'Yes. I've hidden it under a flagstone so no one will find it, and Hyperion can't enter holy places.'

  'You know, I said, 'I don't get any of it. Hyperion's an angel. Angels are supposed to be good. That's what we're taught. Angels are good, demons are bad.'

  Josh looked at me, his tender eyes sent a shiver down my spine, a single pulse of delight.

  'It's not quite that simple.'

  'I guess not.' I reached up and stroked his face. Josh, my angel. My Angel of Death. 'But he's an angel, why would he want to destroy something as beautiful as that?'

  'Maybe he's just crazy. He's certainly crazy for power. Some aren't satisfied with whatever they have, and always want more. Angels aren't that different from humans. Angels, people, it's all the same.' He stared at me tenderly then said; 'Maybe there is no explanation.'

  'Do you think...?' I stopped. It was a stupid question.

  'What?'

  I swallowed hard. 'Do you think he can be saved?' Was I still talking about Hyperion? Or myself? Josh? Or Cassie? I didn't know.

  'I don't know.'

  For some reason, his words sank deep inside me, heavy with meaning and sorrow.

  I looked at him. There was something in his eyes, a sadness that played across his face. My instincts were telling me something was wrong.

  'I thought we said no secrets?

  Josh shook his head and ran his hand over his forehead. 'There are no secrets.'

  There was something. I knew it. Not necessarily a lie, more of an omission. 'You need to start trusting that I can deal with this.'

  'I do.'

  I smiled. 'No,' I said, reaching up to run my fingers through his hair, 'you don't. I may be human but -'

  'I do. I do,' he said, grabbing my hand. He placed it to his lips and kissed my fingers. 'I just...I don't like this.'

  'What?'

  'The more we talk about Hyperion, the more we work on solving this, the more I see the differences between us.'

  'What?'

  'I'm not human, Evie.'

  'You think you've dragged me into something I can't handle?'

  He turned away.

  I grabbed his face in my hands and forced him to look at me. 'I can handle it.'

  'Maybe we need to agree to disagree on this one?'

  'Maybe,' I said, resistin
g any temptation to bite back, and thinking that his melancholic mood had more to do with being at Obadiah's than me. Perhaps it had been too soon, but what other option had we got? We needed to find that spear.

  'I love you,' I said, trying to cut through his sorrow.

  He smiled back, but I could see the sadness casting a cloud over him. I recognised it, for it had claimed me in the past too.

  'Okay,' I said, deflecting the grief swirling up inside of me, 'this Spear of Longinus, what does it look like?'

  Josh coughed. 'Before he...' Josh closed his eyes and took a few minutes to compose himself. 'Yeah, so before Obadiah died he gave me this notebook.' He pulled out a small brown leather book from his jacket pocket. It had the initials O.G inscribed on the front cover. I recognised it as the book he'd dropped on the floor of my bedroom. He opened it and handed it to me.

  I took it and looked at Obadiah's notes, written in a script that I couldn't understand, except for a few names and places written in English. There was a small diagram on the right-hand page of what looked like a spearhead drawn in pencil.

  'I can't read most of it.'

  'No, you won't be able to, it's in angelic script.'

  'What is it?'

  'It's all Obadiah's research on the Apocalyptic Relics. It's not completed, but it's a good start.'

  'So I guess that's a diagram of the spear but what does it say about it?'

  'An angel called Sophia Alchymysta crafted the spear upon God's orders. She was also its Guardian after it was used to pierce Jesus' side. It was hidden in the Convent of Christ Castle, in Portugal until it was stolen. And at some point, she was thrown from Heaven but I don't know if that's because she lost the spear or....'

  'Do you think it was Hyperion who stole it?'

  'No, not at that point. It's too early. If you look here,' he said, pointing to the name Hitler on the page with the year 1940 written after it, 'he thinks it was stolen for Hitler by someone called Otto Skorzeny. The spear was kept at Wewelsberg Castle -'

  'I've heard of that place. Hitler and Himmler used it as an SS Cult centre.'

  'Yes. But at some point, it was decided to move it to Ksiaz, but it never got there.'

  'So where is it?'

  'It looks like it was put on a train with other important artefacts and gold, but there is no mention in here of where it ended up.'

  'What's this here?' I asked, pointing to what I recognised as names and places, some with lines crossed through.

  'This is a list of spearheads which have been claimed to be the real Spear of Longinus. In Rome, Vienna and Armenia but I think Obadiah doesn't...didn't believe they were real as he's crossed the place names out. But if you look here,' he said, again pointing at the notes, 'you'll see he's circled the names, Friedrich Hass, and Joseph Vass.

  'Who are they?'

  'Obadiah thinks they're the same person. Friedrich Hass was an SS Officer, part of the Werwolfs, the group assigned to move the treasure from Ksiaz. He now lives in Madrid under the assumed name of Joseph Vass. There was a rumour, according to these notes, that he was trying to sell a spearhead on the black market only a few months ago.'

  'But even if it is the real spear, how can we be sure? And how do we get it off him? It's not like we have loads of money to buy it and he's not just going to give it to us, is he?'

  'That's why,' said Josh, tracing the pencil arrow Obadiah had drawn in his notebook with his finger, 'we need to go to see Sophia.'

  'To authenticate it? Okay. So does Obadiah give us any clue to where she is?'

  'Nope.'

  'So how do we find her? And if we do, how do we persuade her to help us?'

  'With great difficulty?' he said, with a laugh that was more sadness than humour. 'But hopefully, the answer lies somewhere here.' He spread his arms out, gesturing at the walls full of books.'

  'How long have we got?' I asked, looking at the shelves stuffed full of books and the piles of papers strewn over the floor like a carpet.

  'Not sure,' he said, already sounding as if he was resigned to failing, 'but we'd better hope we find it quick before Hyperion does.'

  I grabbed a pile of papers from the floor and sat down on a chair. Half of it I didn't understand. It was like being back in Spanish. Those that I could read I sorted through for anything that looked useful, the others I put to one side for Josh to look at. He sat beside me, working through a stack of books and vellums.

  There were a few smaller pages in my pile. They looked as if they were made from little pieces of papyrus. It was thick, but fragile, like it was going to start unravelling as soon as someone touched it. I only had a few pages, and the ink had been smudged in places, blooming out like flowers where water had been dropped onto the page. It read:

  'The rarest Fallen Angel is an unusual creature; an angel who has turned away from the love of God because of their love for a mortal.

  'The angel who wishes to fall must be pure, in both mind and body, so that they have a place in Heaven to fall from.

  'The ritual of Falling is a simple one; first, the angel must take an infusion of Asphodel before saying the words: Although changed, I shall arise the same. Finally, to complete the transformation, the angel must fall from a place of great height in a symbolic gesture of Falling from Heaven.

  'The Fallen Angel will be stripped of their wings and will be exiled from Heaven. After the ritual has taken place, a Fallen Angel cannot regain their wings, nor can they re-enter Heaven.

  'This is the price a Fallen Angel must pay, for although God still loves them, their love for a mortal has supplanted their love for Him in their hearts.

  'An angel, above all else, must have a pure heart.

  'But, be warned, It is a treacherous and torturous path to tread; A Fallen Angel will know much suffering and pain as they outlive the mortal they have Fallen for.'

  That was all I could read; the rest of the words were a smudged mess and ineligible.

  Was this our way out? Could Josh become a fallen angel? My heart leapt and for the first time in a very long time, I felt hope. Despite the fragility of the paper, I carefully folded it in half and slipped it into my jacket pocket.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Josh look up at me.

  'Have you found,' I said, stifling a yawn, 'anything?'

  'Not yet. How about you?'

  'No.'

  'Argh!' he shouted, flinging his notes. He balled his hands into fists. 'If only Obadiah was here!' He pounded his fists on the table. The books and cleaning spray bounced into the air and thudded back down on the wood.

  'Hey,' I said, reaching over to him, 'we'll find what we need.'

  He smiled weakly.

  I let out a yawn. 'Sorry.'

  'Why don't you get some rest?'

  'I could do with it,' I said, although I didn't know whether sleep would come.

  'Give me a few minutes and I'll set you up a bed.'

  'You'll come with me?'

  He looked at me in silence.

  'You need rest too.'

  He nodded in agreement, not because he wanted to, but because he knew I wouldn't let it go.

  'Come on,' I said, standing up and offering him my hand. Maybe it would be good to stay a few days, I thought to myself. It would give me time to find out about fallen angels.

  Obadiah's house felt more like a home to me than my own. Over the next few days, we tidied up, making it even homelier. We dusted as much as we could reach, tacked up some old blankets with drawing pins as make-shift curtains, and cleaned out the old fireplace which was full of soot and twigs. We kept our bed in front of it, huddling around it at night, pouring over the books and papers by candlelight.

  I particularly loved the ancient books. They seemed to call out to me from under the layers of dust. Some were angelic texts which I couldn't understand but which Josh attempted to translate with what he knew of the angelic tongue. His knowledge was limited being an Angel of Death, but he managed. It didn't matter that I couldn't read them, they
came alive as Josh spoke, and after he'd finished I couldn't help but smell them, smell the history, the life inside the pages.

  Perhaps it had something to do with my father's books and manuscripts. I remember, before he died, there were always books around the house, and, although Obadiah's books weren't mine, they were a connection between myself and my father, and even Obadiah himself. It was our mutual reverence of the written word that connected us. Books are magical creatures, connecting us to the past and parts of ourselves that we don't even know exist.

  Without stories, we aren't human. We cannot live.

  At night, when our eyes could see no more and the Sandman called from the shadows, we'd curl up into each other, and although it wasn't the comfiest, it was the best sleep I'd had in ages. I was safe. The black beast inside me had been sated, for a while at least.

  I was happy, living a dream.

  But like good dreams, it all had to end, in one way or another. We would have to leave to find the Spear of Longinus, to fight Hyperion and prevent the Apocalypse.

  Not much for one human and an angel.

  Chapter Three

  It was early one morning, when the rain was crashing against the windows and the sky outside was as dark as Josh's mood, when we finally got the break we needed. I'd found a pile of maps stuffed onto one of the shelves at the back of the house. Some were antiques, yellowing, with dog-eared corners and covered with stains and large holes, others were fairly new with crisp creases, covering areas such as France and Germany. I nearly put them to one side, not believing they could help our search in any way whatsoever, when a small scrap of paper fell out of the pile onto the wooden floor. I picked it up without looking at it and was about to screw it up and throw it in the rubbish when something made me look at it. There were only a few words scribbled on the paper; Sophia, Lloret de Mar, Tony's Bar? It was, at least, a place to start.

  We set off straight away, although, I was reluctant to leave the comfort of Obadiah's home. I loved that place so much and, for a little while at least, I could pretend we were a normal couple, doing normal things whilst we stayed there. I was sad to leave, unsure if I'd see the place ever again. I hoped, as we shut the font door, that I would return someday.