Don't Just Speak Love

Chapter 9

  The Story Behind

  “—in another life.”

  I held a hand up to Atward’s face, stopping him. “Don’t be ridiculous, please.”

  Atward cocked his head to the side, seemingly amused instead of annoyed by my interruption. “Why don’t you listen first, Averie?”

  “No,” I said shortly. “I have enough bullshit to handle as it is. I certainly don’t need to add to the load.”

  “It’s my life we’re talking about, so not to worry. That won’t be an issue,” said Atward with a subtle smile. “Besides, don’t you want to know why you’re here?”

  I pursed my lips and eyed Atward closely. “Okay, tell your story then,” I said after a moment of reconsideration. He gave off a feeling that he only meant good.

  Knotting his fingers together, Atward leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. “Sir Albion told you about the archangels’ fall out, didn’t he?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Did he tell you what led to that regrettable mistake?”

  “No, he didn’t,” I said, rather tired of this same old topic.

  “I wasn’t involved, for the most part. Gabriel—” I perked up at the mention of my father. “—was pretty much uninvolved as well. Our eldest brother, Michael, was always the one who took care of things. Unlike our Father and the rest of the spiritual beings in Heaven, our other brother, Lucifer, had never taken a liking to humans. He found their existence inferior and overvalued.” He paused and took a deep breath. “For a long time, there were arguments and conflicts between Michael and Lucifer. The tension between them intensified until one day—the day Lucifer finally snapped—he led his troops to cause mayhem in Heaven. Officially declaring his intention to take over Heaven and Earth, Lucifer took Michael on in a tragic battle. What he didn’t expect was that Michael was prepared for upheaval. You see, Michael had a trump card in his hands—his mortal son, who is in fact, Sir Albion Savant. As a nephilim, Sir Albion has a much sturdier physical body than Lucifer—”

  “How come I don’t have a sturdy body like Sir Albion?” I asked. I got injured like every other human being, even though my wounds healed fairly quickly. Perhaps Sir Albion was mistaken, and I wasn’t a nephilim after all?

  That would be ideal.

  “You do have a sturdy body. What I mean by sturdy is…unless it’s a direct hit to your head or your heart, it’s hard for you to die because you recover fast.”

  “Oh,” I muttered in unconcealed disappointment.

  “Shall I continue? Or do you have other questions?” asked Atward politely, his humble attitude completely the opposite of his grandfather’s condescension.

  I nodded.

  “Lucifer recovers fast, but Sir Albion recovers faster, and that was the vital key to Michael’s victory. As punishment for the rebellion, Michael intended to banish Lucifer to Earth, reincarnated as a human. He severed one of Lucifer’s wings—to become mortal, an angel has to lose both wings—but Lucifer managed to flee Heaven, despite being critically wounded. He fell to Earth, and all in Heaven thought he was a lost cause. Knowing Lucifer, he would rather perish than be reborn as a human.” There was a tinge of sadness in Atward’s voice.

  It occurred to me that he hadn’t wanted things to turn out the tragic way they did, so why hadn’t he prevented it in the first place? What was his role in that lame dispute? Yes, lame. Why fall out and even shed blood over such a trivial matter?

  “Why didn’t you stop things from turning out the way they did?” I asked Atward.

  “Well, that’s the regrettable part—I wasn’t around. Four years before the battle, I severed my own wings to be reborn as a human. This is my new life, my new identity as Atward Savant. It’s ironic to be reborn as a Savant, but I guess it’s necessary. I wasn’t able to keep things from falling apart the last time, but now, to make up for that, I’ll do everything I can to prevent bloodshed.”

  There was one thing I didn’t understand. “You gave up your identity as an archangel to become mortal? Were you out of your mind? Why did you even want to be human?”

  “I fell in love,” said Atward straightforwardly, his gaze transfixed by the carpet at his feet, “with a mortal girl. When I met her, my instincts told me she wasn’t ordinary, and I wanted to find out more about her. Unable to withhold my curiosity, I went up to her, and as time went by, we got close. She showed me so many wonderful things about life on Earth, I started envying humans.” He paused and glanced at Sasuke. All the time Atward was talking, Sasuke seemed to be in a daze, staring down blankly at his crossed fingers. I wondered if anything was wrong. “At that time, I was supposed to be running an errand on Earth. It was only a matter of time before I had to return to Heaven, and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to be like Michael, having to leave his family for his duties, so I decided to give up my post.” Shutting his eyes, he let out a deep sigh before opening them again. “But in the time I was away to get things done, she passed on. I was devastated when I found out she was gone. I severed my wings and headed straight to Afterworld to look for her.”

  “My mum told me she grew up without knowing her parents,” said Sasuke in an undertone, his voice cold, his expression hard. “She’s never seen her father, and her mother died of disease when she was really young so she ended up in a children home until an old Japanese couple came along and adopted her.” He looked up from his hands to glare at Atward. “Why didn’t you know about my mum?”

  And suddenly, I remembered what Sir Albion has told us before—Sasuke’s mum was the child of Archangel Israfel.

  “If I’d realised, she wouldn’t have been adopted, and she wouldn’t have moved to Japan, and she wouldn’t have met your father, and she definitely wouldn’t have had you.”

  Anger blazing wild in his eyes, Sasuke opened his mouth to speak, but Atward went on before he did.

  “There’s no point dwelling on the past,” began Atward softly, and a frown immediately swept across Sasuke’s features. “Your mum let it go. There’s no need for you to feel bitter for her.”

  “What do you know?” spat Sasuke acidly. “You’ve never been around.”

  Still incredibly patient and gentle, Atward said, “I would never have left my child and went on to chase her mother after death had I known her existence. And I’m sure the way you interpret her purpose for telling you her story isn’t what she’s had in mind. She wouldn’t want your pity—”

  “I know that!” snapped Sasuke, and I shifted on the couch we shared, startled. I’d never seen Sasuke so livid. “She wanted me to cherish everyone and everything I have in my life. Even if she hadn’t told me that, I would have figured it out by myself. I don’t need you to lecture me.”

  Atward sighed, looking defeated. “Believe it or not, this has me entirely wrenched inside. But what’s done is done. I might as well focus the present and put apologies into action rather than petty words.”

  An uncomfortable silence snapped into place. I didn’t even dare to breathe. Atward kept his eyes on Sasuke fondly, but Sasuke refused to acknowledge any of it. He still looked really mad. It would probably take some time for things to sink in—it had to be strange to have a grandfather this young, all of a sudden.

  Looking at his watch, Atward rose slowly from his chair. “I have to go. Sir Albion should be done with communicating with our pilot, and he’ll take over from here.”

  I grimaced at the thought of facing Sir Albion after the stunt we’d pulled, sighing heavily. We’d probably never hear the end of it.

  “We’ll all head back to Singapore first thing tomorrow morning.” Looking at Sasuke, Atward said, “For now.” He turned toward Chaste and, looking at her sleeping face as though trying to memorise every minute detail of it, he tenderly brushed wayward strands of black hair from her eyes. “Would you look after her for me?”

  Sasuke and I stared at the unconscious girl in utter astonishment as Sir Albion rejoined us at the sitting room.

  Beside
me, Sasuke sat up straighter and stiffer. “Don’t tell me...” He sputtered to a halt.

  “Yes,” said Atward in a low voice, not taking his eyes off Chaste. “It’s exactly what you’re thinking.”

  I leaned backward with a heavy intake of breath. My life was getting more and more far-fetched. My best friend in Black Gold had just turned out to be Archangel Israfel’s lover. “That’s right. You haven’t told us how you found her,” I said after a stunned moment.

  “Silver blood runs in the bodies of the archangels. That divine blood is the reason their systems don’t need the basic necessities a human has to have to survive. Before I severed my second wing, I made an oath with the last drop of my divine blood, and somehow, my soul became intertwined with hers.” Atward gestured at Chaste’s sleeping form with his chin. “I could feel her whereabouts, which was how I knew she was in the dome. After the show, I met up with Sir Albion. Before we set out to find her, I made a quick shift back to the hotel to grab a mobile phone, and that was when she tumbled into this room with me, losing consciousness at once. It seems teleporting works for us—even if we aren’t touching—as long as we’re near each other.”

  With that explanation, Atward strode to the door and opened it. “If she wakes,” he said, swivelling around to face us again, “tell her not to fret. I’ll explain things to her when I get back.” He went out the door, leaving us with our beloved Sir Albion.