"Do you not long for freedom? For escape?"
"No. I have the host. I have you. What more could I need?"
"Why have wings you never spread?"
"We fly often."
"Don't be obtuse, you know what I mean."
"I wish I didn't."
The words chased each other back and forth, around and around, threatening to burst out of his head and scream across the sky. With each repeat, it was like the memories were growing away from him and warping into something new. Words spoken easily and truthfully at the time rang hollow under the scorching gaze of his inner eye, while words he would once never have imagined to doubt twisted into taunting jibes without changing at all.
Bariel rubbed his eyes and tried to stop thinking. To stop thinking of things he'd said or done, choices made and passed over, of people met and obstacles overcome. But mostly he tried to stop thinking of...
him. That was hardest of all, like letting go of his heart or legs. Harder, perhaps, because
he had been a part of Bariel's existence before he'd had either of those anatomical additions.
He sat up, carefully pulling aside the duvet and surveying the room. Neat, ordered, unlived in. He worried about the last one, sometimes, because he knew that he didn't exactly live. His heart beat and his blood flowed (though his discovery of chocolate and his passion for it might put an end to that) and he moved through the world but he didn't exactly live. Certainly not as a human would think of it and as for others of his kind... He was glad that the forces of the Silver City and the Pit alike steered clear of Yarmouth. There are some places even demons will not go, that even angels fear to tread.
He stood and stretched, feeling the little crackles and pops in his body's joints go off. There was a strange satisfaction in the warming up of his body after the night's inactivity (he rarely slept, only lay down and thought, dreams were too intangible to be trusted) and the energy that seemed to rush in. He would need to eat though, he could feel the hunger in his body. Everyday it seemed that the lines between what he felt and what his body felt were gently eroding. Soon he would be as a mortal, with his soul subject to the base tyranny of his biological needs.
Bariel scowled as went through his morning routine of showering, dressing and preparing a precise breakfast.
He said that this lack of separation would be good, that it would help them realise themselves. Bariel could think only of how beautiful he'd been before leaving the Silver City when his soul was unfettered. Still, he had to admit there were some very unique advantages to the flesh; tastes, for example. The first time he'd eaten something, he'd nearly collapsed from an overload of input. It'd taken weeks for him to build up from oats, to bread, to milk and finally to chocolate. There was nothing in the higher realms quite like chocolate.
Speaking of that delectable substance, Bariel allowed himself a single square before leaving the house. Any more and he'd spend the whole day trying to understand the complex myriad of flavours in several dozen bars of Morrison's best. Instead, he strode along the sea front high street and tried not to shiver. Not from the sea wind, but from the peeling paint, lacklustre posters and dead eyes of the visible clerks. No matter how many times he walked through the town, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was the ruin of dreams and hope.
Approaching number 96, Bariel sighed. Another day of sitting by the telephone, throwing darts at the board, drinking Dee's endless cups of tea and doing anything to pass the time. When he'd found the offices of Underwood Investigations, he'd expected something akin to his previous position. Stalking, striking and slaying vicious monsters and fiendish foes. To his disappointment, the job consisted of inventing new ways to not look at the clock for eight hours or more.
But not, it seemed, today. The first thing to great him through the door was Jack's excited singing voice.
"A job! A job! We got a job! A job! A job! We got a job!"
The young man (Bariel wasn't entirely used to gender but that seemed to be the right descriptor) was dancing around the room to the amusement of Dee and the utter bafflement of Graham. As difficult as things had seemed but moments ago, Bariel couldn't help but smile. With a purpose, he was sure to be able to recapture his old certainty, his previous sureness. Maybe he'd even be able to get
him off of his mind. Yes, things were certainly looking up.
He stepped in, closed the door and turned to face the group.
"I take it that we have been contracted to resolve a matter beyond the reach of mortal authority?" he said with more than a hint of pride in his voice.
Graham gave a derisive bark of a laugh. "Oh yes, far beyond. They're just not prepared to bend down so low." Still chuckling, he stumbled off deeper into the shop and lit a cigarette. Job or no job, Graham wasn't going to be compromising his routine. Undaunted, Bariel turned to Jack.
"Tell me true, what does this crusade entail?"
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