“I don’t understand.” Aaron stared intently at the angel. “What could I be drawn to if not Stevie? What can be more important than him?”
The angel remained silent, continuing to stroke his bearded chin, seemingly lost within his own thoughts.
“Camael?” Aaron prompted, raising his voice slightly.
“It is a most elusive place,” Camael finally answered, his eyes glazed. Then he turned to Aaron and fixed him in an intense glare. “Aerie,” he whispered. “You could be taking us to Aerie.”
Faces flashed before Camael’s eyes; images of those he’d saved from the destructive wrath of the Powers throughout the innumerable centuries since he’d left the angelic Host. Where had they gone? It was a question he often asked himself. Some were eliminated later, the Powers eventually tracking them and succeeding in their malevolent goals. But there were others, others who had managed to find a very special place, a place that still eluded him.
“Aerie?” Aaron was asking. “Isn’t that a bird’s nest or something?”
“It is a place unlike any other on this world, Aaron, a special place—a secret place, where those who have fallen await their reunion with Heaven.” Camael folded his hands before him, remembering the times when he thought he had found it—only to be sadly disappointed.
“Have you ever been to this place?” the Nephilim asked.
“No. The Aerie is hidden from me, for I am not fully trusted,” he replied. “Remember, I was once the leader of the Powers, and they would like nothing more than to burn away Aerie and all it stands for.”
“Are you sure there really is such a place?” Aaron asked.
Camael tried to imagine what his existence would have been like without the idea of Aerie’s presence to comfort him. He doubted he would have been able to continue his mission without the promise of something better awaiting those he struggled to save—something better for himself. “It exists,” he said quietly. “I’m sure of it—just as I know that you are of whom the prophecy speaks. And Aaron, those who live there, in this secret place, they believe in the prophecy that you personify.” He paused. “They’re waiting for you, boy.”
Aaron seemed taken aback by this latest revelation. In a way, Camael felt pity for the youth and his human perceptions of the world. The idea of what he actually was, and what his true purpose was to be, must have been quite overwhelming for his primitive mind. Although he did have to admit that, at this moment, the youth wasn’t doing too badly.
“All the people in Aerie—they’re waiting for me to do for them what I did for Zeke?”
Camael nodded, remembering the valiant Grigori, who had helped him rescue Aaron during the Powers’ attack on the boy’s home. Zeke had been mortally wounded and the Nephilim had used his prophetic gift to forgive his trespasses and allow his return to Heaven. “It is your destiny to release all who repent,” he said.
Aaron seemed to be digesting his words, the importance of his destiny sinking in even deeper. “Before I do any more forgiving, we’re going to find Stevie,” he said. “Wherever this urge is taking us, whether it’s to my brother, or to Aerie, or to a place that makes really great tacos, finding Stevie and getting him away from that bastard Verchiel is the number one priority—agreed?” Aaron demanded, an intense seriousness in his look.
Camael thought about arguing with the youth, but he sensed that it would be for naught. No matter how different Aaron Corbet had become since awakening the angelic power that resided within him, he still thought of himself as human. “Agreed,” he answered.
There was still much Aaron had to learn—but that would come over time.
“That wasn’t very nice,” Gabriel grumbled as he sniffed along the grounds of the picnic area. “Not very nice at all.”
He was following a scent, something that made his stomach growl and his mouth salivate. Gabriel was hungry—although there was seldom a time that he wasn’t feeling the pangs of hunger. At a green trash barrel, he found the crumpled remains of an ice-cream sandwich wrapper. There were other pieces of trash that had missed the receptacle as well, but he would investigate those later, after he’d given the wrapper his full attention.
The dog was hurt that Aaron could be so insensitive to his needs. He was hungry, and Aaron still would not let him have the bread that he was going to throw away, anyway. It was frustrating and only served to make him hungrier.
Gabriel nudged the wrapper with his nose, pulling the delicious scents of dried vanilla ice cream and chocolate cookie up into his sensitive nostrils. His tongue shot out to lap at the wrapper, the moisture making the scents clinging to the refuse all the more pungent.
You don’t eat things off the ground, he remembered Aaron scolding him. And he knew that he shouldn’t, but he was angry, and so very hungry. Gabriel took the ice-cream sandwich wrapper into his mouth and began to chew. It didn’t taste like much, but then, dogs don’t have taste buds. The deliciousness of something was based entirely on its smell. If it smelled like something to eat, that was good enough for a dog, especially a Labrador. Very few things required more than a chew or two, and the paper wrapper was soon sliding down Gabriel’s throat and into his stomach.
Unsatisfied and a little guilty, Gabriel turned his attention away from the barrel and toward a family of three who were having lunch at another of the picnic tables. The dog approached them, tail wagging in happy greeting. There were two adults, a mother and a father, and a little girl who was about the same age as Stevie.
A wave of sadness passed over the animal as he viewed the family. He missed the other members of his own pack; Tom and Lori were dead, and the Powers had taken Stevie away. But at least he still had Aaron. It wasn’t how it used to be, but it would do for now. He still wasn’t sure about the one called Camael. There was something about him that he didn’t quite trust. He smelled too much like that nasty Verchiel to be accepted by him into the pack.
“Hello, doggie!” the little girl squealed as she turned on the bench and caught sight of him.
Gabriel could smell the caution seep from her parents’ pores as he approached. He took no offense; after all, he was a strange dog and there were many that he himself would have been cautious of. He sat down, as Aaron had taught him brought one of his paws up in greeting, barked softly once, and wagged his tail.
The little girl laughed happily, and he noticed the adults smile as well.
“May I pat him?” the child asked, already sliding off the bench.
“Let him smell you first, Lily,” the father said cautiously. “You don’t want to scare him.”
The child held out her hand, and Gabriel sniffed the pink skin of her palm. Fragments of scents clung to her flesh: Soap that smelled like bubble gum; cheese crackers; sugary fruit juice; her mother’s perfume. Gently, he lapped the child’s hand.
Lily squealed with delight and began to pat his head. “You’re a good dog, aren’t you,” she cooed, “and your ears are so soft.”
Gabriel already knew that, but it didn’t prevent him from enjoying the child’s attentions, until he caught the delicious aroma of food. He lifted his snout and pulled in the olfactory delights as he watched Lily’s mother place a hot dog on the table where the child had been sitting.
“C’mon, Lily. Let the doggie go back to his family and you eat your lunch.”
Lily patted his head again and leaned in very close. “Good-bye, doggie,” she said, kissing his nose as his stomach gurgled loudly. “Was that your belly?” She giggled.