Page 5 of The River of Fire
Great. I rub my forehead and eyes, feeling like my head is too full of life-altering information, but still plagued by curiosity. Knowledge is a weapon, and I’m going to need every weapon I can get my hands on.
Seeing this, Daniel says softly, “You should rest. There will be time enough to ask questions. We do not plan on pushing you out the door into Hell tomorrow, unprepared.”
Did I ruminate over my life not having purpose less than an hour ago? Be careful what you wish for. Mike clearly jinxed me with his ‘famous last words’ thing.
Mike… I may never see him again. Anguish gathers under my ribcage, the weight of a semi smothering my breath, my heart writhing under the merciless pressure.
I look around at the dejected faces and those of angry denial. Most of these people likely have loved ones: parents, children, partners. Jobs they are good at, hobbies they enjoy. If what these men said is true, we will all need to come to terms with an unpleasant fact. By staying here, we can help keep the people we love safe from a threat they don’t even know about.
Chapter 3 – Lana
As certain as I was that I wouldn’t sleep at all, the insanity of last night left me feeling exhausted and heavy. I fell asleep as soon as I lay on the bed in the room Daniel brought me to, and dreamt of the fiery pits of doom.
The room I’m in is Spartan, with only a sturdy bed and dresser – no windows. My bladder leads me to the small bathroom, which has a toilet and a bathtub, though neither are the modern appliances I’m used to. There is plumbing, though. I’m taken aback for a moment until I consider the fact that Ancient Rome had plumbing. I’m not going to even try to riddle out the answer as to where the water comes from.
Once I finish using the toilet, I splash water on my face, then brush my teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste that was provided. In fact, the plain wooden shelves hold an assortment of modern hygiene products, which look completely out of placein the bare-bones bathroom.
I walk back into the bedroom and open the dresser. Dark gray leathers hang inside, like something an archer or assassin would wear in a fantasy movie, complete with knee-high boots. On the shelf above lie socks, plain cotton underwear, pants, and shirts. Everything looks like it’s in my size. Like they knew what my size was before stocking the dresser.
Having nothing left to explore here, I tentatively step out of my quarters and see the door across the hallway was left ajar. Through it is a kitchen, and it’s as plain as everything else I’ve seen so far. A square table with four chairs is set in the middle. Counters and cupboards line one wall, and a stone hearth is built into the wall across from it. A cauldron hangs inside, like something out of a video game tavern. Cue the bawdy music. No, really, the silence is oppressive.
I wonder where they get food from. Nothing can grow in the gray sand that covered the floor of the atrium, and which I suspect covers the rest of this ante-realm to Hell. Not to mention the things like the razors and bottles of shampoo and conditioner I saw in my bathroom. There must be an easy way to reach home.
Just as I’m done taking in my surroundings, Daniel walks through the door, wearing a gentle smile. I feel like I instantly got a bead on this man… male? What do I call the Fallen? Do they have a gender? It would feel rude to ask.
“Good morning, Lana,” he says, appraising me as if he can see whether I got any sleep or not.
“Morning,” I return the greeting, then stand there wondering what I’m meant to do next.
“I prepared some oatmeal for breakfast, sit anywhere you would like.” He saves me from indecisiveness and I sit at the table he gestured toward. Daniel serves me porridge from the cauldron in a ceramic bowl and provides a matching ceramic spoon. He then sits down across from me with no food placed before him.
“Don’t you need to eat?” I question, and test the warmth of myfood. Don’t need a burned tongue on top of everything, now do I?
“I could eat,” he replies, his smile growing slightly, some twinkle in his calm blue eyes. “I can also choose not to and avoid the needs of the physical body that follow.”
“Hah. Must be nice,” I mutter and swallow a spoonful. The food is plain but feels comforting. “Where does this food come from? And everything else?” I ask.
“We take regular trips to the mortal realm for provisions. Maalik goes most often.”
His answer confirms my suspicions and I ask, hopefully, “Will we be able to visit home?”
He observes me for a moment before replying. “Perhaps some of you. In time.”
The hope I feel is almost painful; I want to see Mike again, to explain why I won’t be there at the movie theater for our regularly scheduled date. Though he probably already sent me twenty memes that went unread, seeing as my phone is somewhere on the floor of that alley. He may have even already called the police. Would they call my parents? Duh, Lana, of course they would. We’re not the closest of families, but I still don’t want them to think I’m dead. I sigh at the unrelenting wrenching pain in my stomach and grasp for something else to think about.
“Where is everyone else?” This small kitchen slash dining room can’t be where they expect us all to eat.
“There is a larger dining area. This is the kitchen Maalik and I use.” Daniel thoughtfully taps a finger on his lips. “Being apart from the Nephilim and Cambion in the sense that you are both, we were not quite sure which wing of the fortress to put you in. So we chose a room close to us.”
I shake my head as a shiver runs down the back of my neck. “I see. And how did Maalik know my ancestry?”
“He met your grandfather at an archdemon's court before he left Hell to be with his angel in the human world. From what I know, his brethren tracked him down and slaughtered both of them,” he continues, his voice still kind, but now also soundingsad. He sighs and then adds, “Offspring that are equal parts angelic and demonic are rare. What is rarer yet is when they are not conceived with… force.”
I know I’m just gaping at him. This is all too much. My brain feels like it’s short-circuiting. I decide I don’t want to talk about me or why I’m here anymore. Dropping the subject, I nibble on my food until curiosity wins over my cautiousness. “Why are you here, Daniel? You’re a fallen angel, right? But you don’t seem… evil.”
Thankfully, my question doesn’t offend him and his voice is still warm when he replies. “Breaking Heavenly rules has consequences.”
The rules, but not sinning? I straighten as his name finally registers and tickles a memory bank somewhere in my brain. I think I know who he is, but I don’t want to be rude. “Your name is Daniel. Were you one of the Watchers?”
