Sniegoski, Thomas E - Aerie by Sniegoski Thomas E

Author:Sniegoski, Thomas E [Sniegoski, Thomas E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-02-25T14:39:57+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

Belphegor walked among his crops and in the primitive language of the bug, kindly asked them to leave his vegetables. Purging his gardens of toxic residue was like placing neon signs in front of all his plants, welcoming the various insects. But he hadn’t forgotten them. There was an area of garden he had grown especially for the primitive life forms, and he invited them to partake of that particular bounty. The insects did as he asked, some flying into the air in a buzzing cloud, while others tumbled to the rich earth, heading for a more appropriate place to dine. The bugs did not care where they ate, as long as they were allowed to feed.

The angel thanked the simple creatures and turned his attention to a pitcher of iced tea that was waiting for him atop a rusted patio table in the center of the yard. He strolled casually through the grass, his bare feet enjoying the sensation of the new, healthy plant life. Removing the poisons from the backyards of Ravenschild brought him great pleasure, although those same toxins were beginning to wear upon his own body. The angel poured himself a glass from the pitcher of brown liquid and gazed out over his own little piece of paradise as he drank. This yard, of all the yards in Aerie, was one of his favorites. He had made it his own and it was good again. If only it was as simple for those who had fallen from God’s grace.

And then came that odd feeling of excitement he’d experienced since first viewing the manifestation of Aaron Corbet’s angelic self. Is it possible? Could he dare to believe that after all this time, after so many false hopes, the prophecy might actually come true?

Belphegor sipped his bitter brew, enjoying the sensation of the cold fluid as it traveled down his throat. He would not allow himself to be tricked; there was too much—too many—relying upon him, to be caught up in a wave of religious fervor. But he had to admit, there was something about this Nephilim, something wild, untamed, that inspired both excitement and fear.

The teaching had been going reasonably well. The boy was eager to learn, but his angelic nature was rough, rebellious, and if they were not careful, a deadly force could be unleashed upon them—upon the world. But that was a worry for another time. The air in a far corner of the yard began to shimmer, a dark patch forming at the center of the distress. There was sound, very much like the inhalation of breath, and the darkness blossomed to reveal its identity. Wings that seemed to be made from swaths of solid night unfurled, the shape of the boy nestled between them. He looked exhausted, yet exhilarated, a cocky smile on his young face.

“That took longer than I expected,” Belphegor said, feigning disinterest as he reached for the pitcher of iced tea and refilled his glass. “Was there a problem?”

Aaron suppressed his angelic nature, the sigils fading, the wings shrinking to nothing upon his back.

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