This snippet is from the part centering around Drusilla. It takes place in the 80's, not long after Uriel has met and "seduced" Dru. Dru was an angel named Auriel, and came across a young Japanese woman who she wished to save from a serious illness. This girl Yuki had her own destiny to fulfill, but Auriel truly wanted to help her. In comes Uriel who offers to help Auriel come down to meet the girl, as at the time she was still too young of an angel to interact directly with humans.
Uriel set the ritual up so he could damage the angel, but the spell goes wrong and Auriel is trapped in Yuki's now empty body (her soul having passed on). In the process Uriel is freed from his own curse, and therefore decides to take care of Auriel, not Drusilla.
Love makes your soul crawl out from it's hiding place.-Zora Neale Hurston
A resounding bang followed the squeal of the worn hinges as Uriel exited the dilapidated building. Someone protested the noise from inside the slum, but he ignored them. Removing a small silver lighter from the inside pocket of his leather jacket, he lit up a cigarette and took a long drag.
“Nice night, huh?” A homeless man popped up out of the dumpster where he had been scrounging for trash.
“Mmm,” Uriel replied noncommittally. The bum shrugged and descended back into the filthy canister, whistling as he went. Uriel sighed an tapped the ash off his cigarette before returning it to his mouth.
The night was typical of the city, dark and chaotic and full of life. Shadows moved across the alley, eluding to their flesh and blood counterparts that passed at the entrance. The air was thick with smog and rich with sounds. Uriel noted a group of cats fighting the next alley over, and a prostitute hawking her wares at the end of the street. He liked the chaos of the city, it helped distract him from his equally chaotic thoughts.
Suddenly the air shifted and the atmosphere changed. The normal smells and sounds of the alley were replaced by light and sweetness. An unnatural, clean breeze blew through the area scattering trash and dust as it went. Uriel heard the homeless man gasp and dive deeper into the dumpster as the light grew. He on the other hand continued to stand and smoke, waiting for the light show to be over.
“A little much don't you think?” Uriel finally said as the light condensed into the shape of a tall, broad shouldered man.
“Greetings Uriel the Lesser,” the man said and dipped his head in a polite greeting. The golden locks surrounding his face moved with the unearthly wind that seemed to surround him.
“Hello Michael.” Uriel finished his cigarette and flicked the butt past his companion, earning him a look of disdain. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I am here for the girl,” Michael said solemnly. Uriel nodded and lit up another cigarette.
“You can't have her.” His voice was calm, but he knew Michael could sense the threat beneath the words. “And you know as well as I do that if you try, you will lose.” Uriel inhaled the bitter smoke and released it slowly through his nostrils. The two men fell silent as they watched the noxious tendrils rise up to join the smog cloud overhead.
“Uriel...” Michael began but stopped. Uriel watched him casually, noticing almost immediately the sword that hung at his side: Wrath.
“Do you bring that thing everywhere?” Michael looked confused at the sudden change in topic and Uriel clarified. “That sword.”
“As a servant of God I am obliged to bring His Wrath wherever I may go to do His holy work.” While Michael spoke, his hand strayed to the sword absentmindedly.
“Good Gods Michael, you sound like a fucking Bible passage,” Uriel said laughing at the irony. “But back to the task at hand, I'd say we're in a bit of a stalemate wouldn't you? You want what you can't have. Not that that is anything new for a self-professed servant of God.”
“I have been ordered to seek out Auriel-”
“Her name is Drusilla,” Uriel interjected. Even with the distance between them he could sense her perfectly. She lay upstairs in the derelict building, tiny form curled up beneath a blanket.
“The name of her shell is of no meaning to me,” Michael replied.
“The name of her shell was Yuki, Drusilla is her own name.” Uriel saw Michael falter, and his eyes clouded with confusion.
“Then it is as I feared,” he said finally, “she is Fallen.”
“Yes.”
“Then I must destroy her. Unless...” The angel looked over to Uriel expectantly.
“What?” Uriel took another drag off his second cigarette and sent it sailing after his first. He was anxious to return to Drusilla and Michael was beginning to try his patience.
“I come bearing an offer from the highest authority,” Michael said. “From God Himself.” Uriel simply nodded and Michael continued. “He will forgive your Uriel, and Auriel! Welcome you back into the fold.”
“And all I have to do is just sign on the dotted line?” Uriel asked sarcastically. “My brother and I invented these sorts of pacts Michael, don't try to con the Devil, you'll loose.”
“I will let that pass Uriel,” Michael said through gritted teeth. “But do not compare our Lord's holy offering to a pact of Satan.”
“If the shoe fits,” Uriel replied and Michael sighed.
“Renounce your brother and give him to us. Help us fell Lucifer and you will be returned to your angelic form. You will be forgiven. Everything you have wanted Uriel, you will be raised up once again.” The angel smiled triumphantly, and the glow around him intensified. Uriel looked from Michael to the building, his mind twisting and turning with thoughts. Above Drusilla stirred, and began to hum softly.
“No,” he said finally. Uriel had known from the moment Michael descended to earth what was coming, and he had also known his answer.
“No?!” Michael's face fell, the hopeful expression shattered by Uriel's words.
“No. I don't want that...at least not anymore. I will not betray my brother Michael.” Uriel felt a light tug on his psyche; somewhere he knew Lucifer was listening.
“But...why?” Michael looked genuinely confused at Uriel's admission.
“I can no more betray my brother than you can kill that girl up there if it comes to it. Or tell me Michael, is it any different for you?” Uriel watched Michael's face fall and his hand stray to Wrath again. He knew the two forces pulling at the angel as if they were his own hands. He had felt such torment before. Duty and love battled in the angel's eyes, but his hand did not grasp the sword hilt.
“No,” Michael said finally, “it is not.” He looked distraught and defeated. Uriel stepped closer and looked up into his clear blue eyes.
“Angels are made of love Michael, don't fault yourself for something that is essentially your nature.”
“Love for God...” Michael began, but Uriel waived a hand to stop him.
“And in loving others, does not one come to love God? Trust me Michael, love is more complex than you or I will ever understand, even with our elevated intellect. There are more things I heaven and earth...”
“Shakespeare?”
“The Devil's favorite.”
“I would have though Baudalaire would be more your style,” Michael replied shaking his head.
“I didn't say he was the only one.” The two men fell silent again and Uriel stepped back to lean against the building. Its cool brick face was almost soothing. “So what now?”
“Even if I do not do it Uriel, He will send others. And they may not be so kind.” The angel looked positively dim, even his light dampened. “I have no other choice.”
“Mmm?” Uriel watched Micheal closely, unsure of his motives.
“I'm going to mark her,” Michael said finally and Uriel's eyes widened in surprise. An angel's mark was sacred, second only to the word of God Himself.
“Wow,” was all he could manage in response. The two entered the tenement and made their way up the deteriorating stairs.
“I always pictured you living somewhere...cleaner?” Michael commented as they moved through the dirty structure. The walls were dingy and many of the baseboards had fallen to rats or other pests.
“All my usual haunts are inappropriate for the present company,” Uriel replied. “The only way to keep her safe is in hiding, and no one would look for me here.” At the top of the stairs they turned to find apartment “33.” Michael grunted a laugh at the irony as Uriel checked the various protective symbols above and around the door.
“Prepare yourself,” Uriel said before pushing the door open and quickly stepping inside. There in the center of the room was a pile of blankets that rose and fell steadily. Compared to their surroundings these pieces of fabric were in Technicolor. Bright blues, fiery reds, golden yellows...each piece was expertly made and intensely colored.
“She likes the melodies they make,” Uriel offered by way of explanation. The two approached the shifting pile slowly, pausing as a head popped out from underneath it.
“Mr. Munkus would like more blue, he says it tastes the best.” Drusilla smiled despite her alarmingly odd statement. Her body was that of a young Japanese girl, with short black hair and a delicate frame. Michael drew a gasping breath as her partially closed eyes found him. Her brow furrowed as if she was trying to figure something out, and suddenly she spoke in a clear voice.
“Michael?” It seemed for a moment that she recognized him, but almost immediately she returned to speaking nonsense. “Fiy brings a friend Mr. Munkus. Should we invite them to the ball?”
“What...what's wrong with her?” Michael stammered out. Drusilla's pale pink, almost blind-looking eyes flickered to him before jumping back to the pile of blankets.
“The ritual went wrong,” Uriel replied solemnly. His mind flashed back to that night nearly a month ago, but he shook his head to clear the thoughts.
“Well...let's do this.” Michael said. Uriel nodded and moved backwards, aware the kind of power the angel would be calling up. “Au-Drusilla?” He said kneeling down next to her blanketed form. “My name is Michael, and I'm a...friend of Uriel's. I've got something for you.”
“A gift? A lovely, lovely gift? We like presents don't we Mr. Munkus, they smell like summer and sound.” Drusilla sat up, rainbow fabric cascading from her shoulders. Her plain white nightgown paled in comparison to the many-colored fabrics.
Michael placed his hand on Drusilla's chest, right above her collar bone. His eyes fluttered closed, and Uriel heard a soft, otherworldly humming begin.
An angel's mark was their name, a very powerful form of high magic. To place that mark on someone could mean many things, in this case protection. Michael's glow intensified as he revealed himself, his true name. The glow moved down his arm and into his hand, creating an intense reaction where it touched Drusilla's flesh.
Uriel gritted his teeth as he heard her soft, high pitched cry. As the myth of Zeus and Semele suggested, the light of true divinity could easily sear human flesh.
There was silence, broken only by a small whimper from Drusilla. Uriel fumbled for another cigarette, his hands searching the inner pockets of his coat without luck. The air smelled raw, flesh and flame assaulting his nose.
“It's done,” Michael said suddenly. Uriel chanced a look back at Drusilla who still sat within the nest of blankets, silent tears streaming down her face. Her pale, wide eyes stared back at him in confusion. “I'm sorry about that little one, but it's all over now. You're safe.”
“Is she?” Uriel murmured, finally finding his cigarettes. He fingered the package breifly before tucking it into the back pocket of his dark jeans. The lighter he kept in hand, flicking its lid back and forth. With a jerk of his hand he opened the lighter and simultaneously sparked its flame to life. The bright red dance drew him in, pulling Uriel's eyes away from where Michael sat comforting Drusilla.
“Are any of us?” He closed the lid on the flame, extinguishing its light and shoving it back into the recesses of his coat pockets.
(All content, characters, and situations belong to the Vessel/Katherine Elise. Please do not copy or use without permission!)
