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- 02/21/2019
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Diego’s Dance with Death - 2. Two Brothers on the Warpath
Sablo walked briskly down the hallway, shouldering away fellow Guardians in the process.
“Hey! What’s your problem?”
“Did your Cupid deny you your morning BJ, or what?”
“What’s the rush?”
“Sup.”
“Hey!”
”Careful!”
Sablo flipped them all off and stormed inside their Head Guardian’s office without knocking, his brother reluctantly in tow.
As always, Ariel was impeccable dressed in a black turtleneck and matching slacks; his long dark cashmere coat on a hanger on the coat rack in the corner. No one had ever seen him wearing leather, faded jeans, or camo as some of his angels preferred. The only exception to the rule was his ever-present black leather gloves. Narrowing his stormy, grey eyes at them, he inspected first Sablo, then Diego. “What can I do for you?”
Diego immediately saluted him. Sablo ignored the subtle warning in their boss’ voice and approached him. He pulled the small purple book with the silver edges from the back pocket of his leather jeans, and slammed it down on his desk. For a brief moment, Ariel gripped the carved lion heads at the end of the armrests of his chair, and slowly leaned back.
“This must be an important matter when you so frivolously risk severe punishment for impertinence and disrespect, Sablo.” When he raised his raven-colored eyebrows and wrinkled his aquiline nose in disgust, one could believe the rumors Ariel was Marcellus Varius, former centurion of the Roman army.
“This belongs to my brother Diego —”
Sablo bent down and put his fist on the book. “He filled out a page for each kid he’s been assigned to, with their name and the outcome.”
“That reminds me.” Ariel took a flimsy piece of paper from among the rolled parchments on his desk. “Here are your orders, Guardian Diego. I expect the usual competent report at the end of the mission. Oh, be prepared for a small award ceremony when you return. You’ve reached the centennial mark faster than most G.A.s.”
When Ariel didn’t move a finger to take the journal, Sablo yelled, “Ninety-nine dead children aren’t enough?!”
“They didn’t all die,” Diego muttered, but neither seemed to notice. He took the flimsy sheet of paper outlining the details of his mission number one hundred. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sablo cross his arms, scowling.
“He reached that mark faster than anyone because you’ve been off-loading all these short-lived victims on him. I bet nobody else stuck it out this long.” If Sablo got any angrier, he might spontaneously combust.
“Sablo, don’t,” Diego said, but he knew it was useless. When his brother decided someone he cared about was treated unfairly or was in danger, he would go charging in with no regard for the consequences.
“No, bro, you deserve an explanation for why you keep getting all these dates with Death, and why they rescinded your D.O.R. We’re not budging until we have some answers.”
“How I assign my angels is none of your concern. Consider this your last warning.”
“Sablo,” Diego pleaded.
“No! I want to know this now. If the assigning of angels is solely your responsibility, it means it’s your decision for Diego to get the shitty jobs, right?” Ariel averted his gaze only for a short moment, but Sablo’s police-trained eye immediately noticed it. Then he had an idea.
“Or perhaps Azrael has something to do with this. Is he blackmailing you?”
“Enough!” Ariel rummaged around his desk and picked up a piece of parchment, stamped and signed it, before folding it up. “Give this to Ayil. Now, out!”
Diego immediately saluted. “Yes, Sir!” With his left hand he poked his brother in the back, out of Ariel’s sight. Sablo grabbed the parchment and the purple notebook. With one last heated glare at the commander, he saluted sarcastically and turned to follow. As the door closed behind them, Diego heaved a sigh of relief. No word was spoken between them until they reached the tiny cubicle which had been their joint office after they arrived. When Sablo moved in with Theo, Diego had left the apartment they shared and slept on a camp bed behind the desk. Something else he hadn’t told his brother, who reacted predictably.
“Why is all your stuff here? Wait, are you living here? Well, for fuck’s sake, bro, why didn’t you tell me?”
“What difference would that make?”
“Don’t make me punch you!”
“Fine. The people in the apartment above me got too noisy. I didn’t need the space. It’s easier not to deal with the commute. I feel safer here. The food and the cleaning service are better. Take your pick.”
“The food and cleaning service?”
“Umm, well, you know the commander and a few other senior staff members have digs on the premises? Apparently, they have staff taking care of them, cleaning their rooms, uniforms, boots, whatever. Two days after I moved in, one of them turned up and informed me I was now his responsibility. He also gave me this pass, which allows me to use the diner downstairs, free of charge.”
“I see. Maybe the commander does feel bad about those assignments. I know he gets his lunches and dinners sent up from that place. I’ve treated Theo to a meal there a couple of times. The food is great; you’re right about that.”
“Would you like me to go and get some food for us?”
“Later. Right now we need to go talk to Ayil. What does the note say?” Sablo had handed the book and the parchment over to Diego as they were walking.
“We shouldn’t read….” Diego began.
“Bullshit. If the commander didn’t want us to read it, he’d have sealed it or told us it was confidential.”
Diego had to admit his pushy brother had a point. He slipped the notebook into his pocket and unfolded the parchment.
“Shit.”
“What?”
“It’s a request from Ayil to have my aura read. The commander just sanctioned it.”
“Bloody coward, passing the buck like that.”
“Sablo! Be fair. Commander Ariel might not know what’s going on either.”
“Hmf. OK, whose aura will be scanned with yours?”
“It doesn’t say. Maybe it’s just me.”
“Nope. Theo has explained this several times. Cupids don’t just scan – or shoot – anyone at random. They observe and test the auras of potentially compatible lovers. The results are confirmed at CC before they can hit them with arrows. As a full angel, Theliel can do the research and make the decision, but he still has to file a report.”
“Well, it’s only my name. See for yourself.” Diego handed the parchment over and waited anxiously while Sablo read it carefully.
“The first part is asking permission, and only has your name. However, that just means your future lover isn’t a Guardian Angel. It could be a Cupid, but you haven’t been hanging out with the flighty boys.”
“I might have. Some of them are quite good-looking.”
“As if Theo wouldn’t have heard the gossip, if you’d finally given in to Diniel’s pleas for a date, or tumbled Rahmiel.”
“I wouldn’t have to date someone for our auras to match. You got shot on your first date with Theliel.”
“That wasn’t a date! Anyway, you still have to spend time in their proximity. And who have you been seeing regularly since you arrived?”
Diego felt his insides clench and the blood drain from his head.
“Whoa, bro, sit down before you fall over.”
“You can’t seriously be suggesting I have matching auras with Azrael?” Saying it out loud made the idea even worse, and Diego shuddered.
“Look at the bright side. What if Azrael is somehow forcing Ariel to give you all those assignments, because he or she is sweet on you and wants to see you, but is too shy to ask you on a date?”
“You call Death stalking me the bright side? Jeez, did Theo suck your brains out this morning?”
“No, you idiot. If you started dating Azrael off duty, they wouldn’t have any reason to pressure the commander, and you might get some better Guardian jobs.”
“Or Azrael might want to stalk me professionally and privately.”
“Well, we won’t know until we talk to Ayil. He’ll be the one doing the evaluation and firing the silver arrows.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope. Regular Cupids shoot humans, but for Cupids and Guardian Angels and similar…mm…entities, I guess it has to be Ayil or someone of equal standing. The bastard really enjoyed hitting Theo and me. But I think he had to get clearance from higher up. The request doesn’t say who’ll make the final decision, but clearly states Ayil will be in charge of evaluating.”
“But how will talking to him help?”
“Maybe we can find out who the other person is? And if you really don’t want to date them…we might be able to persuade Ayil to say so in his report.”
“You were going to say something else, weren’t you?” Diego knew his brother wouldn’t hesitate to do more than persuade.
Sablo shrugged. “Let’s not worry about that until we know what happens.”
“How would we find out? You never spotted him checking you and Theliel out.”
“I’ll ask Theo for advice, but I can’t expect him to do anything which might jeopardize his career.”
“Of course not.”
“We should have time if the evaluation is only starting. And don’t forget, you and your potential lover have to be close to each other when you’re shot.”
“Your point being?”
“I can’t really see Ayil turning up during a mission to hit you and Azrael with silver arrows while you’re holding a dead kid.”
“Fucking hell, bro, I didn’t need that image in my head.”
“Theo and I got shot at the bar right after our missions had finished. So don’t start dating Death if you want to avoid giving the top Cupid bastard another victory.”
“You always have an answer for everything.” Diego shook his head, but he admired his brother for being stubborn and resourceful. Even if some of his ideas got them into trouble.
“Do we have a plan?”
In reply, Diego stood up and held out his hand for Sablo to high five.
“Let’s go. Time to hit Cupid Central.” Sablo’s evil smirk boded ill for anyone opposing him.
As they ‘ported, Diego mumbled under his breath, “Almost as bad as hitting on the Angel of Death.”
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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