Uriah

Buenos Aires, Argentina, 1987

Uriah hated Argentina. He loathed the whole country like he loathed a trip to the Void.

It wasn’t the country he had a problem with, though. He understood the appeal of it for the mortals and angels alike. Beautiful architecture and breathtaking landscapes existed in abundance, and the people were altogether not that bad…for humans.

But, for Uriah, Arael’s presence haunted every street and mountaintop. He saw her reflected in the waters of the Rosario and in the colors of the sunsets in Puerto Madero. He smelled her in the carnations that grew wild in the Plaza de Mayo. Her laughter echoed from the canyons of the Andes.

During the year of 1905—the year they’d spent together in Argentina, they’d watched with fascination as an armed uprising had developed among the people, completely of their own volition.

This was different from the first mortal battles that had been whispered into the minds of men by the Fallen, but most wars weren’t instigated by spiritual forces anymore. Once war had been introduced to them, the human race had utilized it often and for their most frivolous agendas.

1905 in Argentina saw, not a holy war, but simply a people revolting against an unfair and unjust government.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Arael had joked. “We’re not as unlike these mortals as we’d like to think.”

After so many losses against Michael and his Righteous angel army, Arael had requested time to regroup, to clear her head. So, Apollyon had allowed her to accompany Uriah on a plain, mundane scouting mission. They had spent a glorious year in Argentina. No talk of Michael. No hatching plans.

It had taken a while for her find the peace she sought, but eventually…she became more relaxed, at ease—her old, carefree self. And Uriah found a happiness he hadn’t known since the Fall.

He had his qanima back, if but for a short time.

 Most of Uriah’s time now was spent trying to forget Arael, to push her to the back of his mind. When he’d watched her vanish from the bank of the Sea of Galilee after their battle in Syria twenty years before, he’d had to stop himself from cheering. Apollyon had arrived to punish her, and she wasn’t taking it without a fight.

But then she hadn’t returned. Not that day. Not the next.

Not ever.

With every passing year, his hope faded, and his anger grew. How could she have abandoned him?

“She has her reasons,” Uriah tried to tell himself, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think of one.

Still. He found himself walking these Argentinian streets every year on the same day, for this was the place he felt her the most. These were the memories he wanted to relive.

He didn’t tell anyone of his visits here. Not even Akira, who had been his constant companion since Arael’s disappearance. This was a trip he had to take alone.

Uriah had walked the streets of Buenos Aires in the spirit realm to find some semblance of solitude among the mortals on the street, but the clamor of the city still reached him. After hours of walking, he’d traversed much of the city already. He’d just turned onto San Martin from Sarmiento, when a black tide of sinister energy caught up with him. He felt the presence of Apollyon’s Watchers like slimy droplets on the back of his neck. They’d been following him for a while now—since his last meeting with Apollyon when he reported that his efforts to find Arael had garnered no results.

Clearly, Apollyon didn’t believe him and suspected Uriah would lead the Watchers to Arael eventually. But Apollyon was wrong. Uriah would lead them on a chase around the globe a million times over before he would ever lead them to Arael. Even if knew where she was.

Which he didn’t.

For the first time since they’d begun trailing him, Uriah could hear their whispered taunts. He shook his head. They weren’t even trying to be inconspicuous anymore.

A few moments ago, Uriah had been on his way to visit Colonia, a small town across the Rio de la Plata, but perhaps that excursion would have to wait. He was contemplating a quick Transport to Rome—perhaps he would return after he’d lost them—when something reaches out from the adjacent alleyway and grabbed his shirt, pulling him into the darkness.

A small hand clamped over his mouth, but his defenses remained disarmed. Uriah’s Empath power didn’t detect any malintent. Only a light, playful energy.

“Shhh.” Akira laughed quietly as the swarm of smoky, black Watchers flowed past the alley.

Akira releases her hand from Uriah’s mouth but didn’t move away from him, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“They’re fast, but man, are they dumb.”

Uriah smiled, peeking around the corner at the swarm of retreating demons. “I knew having a Tracker for a friend would come in handy some day. Those guys have been following me for weeks.” He looked back at Akira, breathless. Despite his sour mood, he was still pleased to see her.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were on assignment?”

Akira waved her hand dismissively. “I finished a few hours ago. I’ve been looking all over for you. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to Argentina?”

Because I wanted to be alone, he thought, but of course he would never say that. He could never repay Akira for her loyalty since Arael had left. He definitely wouldn’t be rude to her.

A honking car horn reminded Uriah where he was. Only then did he look down and see the clothes—or lack thereof—covering Akira’s body: leather skirt, black bra, and a shirt that couldn’t even really be called a shirt. It was just a netting material sewn into the shape of her small torso.

“What are you wearing?’ Uriah laughed.

Akira’s eyes brightened. “It was for my assignment in Moscow. Now that is a crazy city.” She looked down at herself. “And I’m kind of diggin’ it, so…” Akira shrugged. “Why? Do you like it?” She twirled around, giving him the full view.

Uriah opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Akira’s hand over his mouth again.

“Wait! I think they’re coming back this way.” An impish smile lit her face as she grabbed Uriah’s hand. “Come with me. I know where we can hide out while they lose your trail.”

Thoughts of Colonia tugged at him, but he couldn’t go anywhere without Akira’s Tracker shield at the moment, and he didn’t want to take her there. Uriah had no other choice. He followed Akira as she dragged him down the alley.

Coming out onto Reconquista, they passed a few bus stops and a coffee shop. Not wanting to risk the unnecessary attention of a Transport, they ran on foot until they reached Corrientes Avenue.

“We’re taking the subway?” Uriah asked when they darted down the stairs leading down into the Subte station under Corrientes.

“Just follow me.” Akira grinned.

A few minutes later, Akira and Uriah stood peering into a tiny, dark, subterranean room off the subway tunnels under the city.

“Of all the places in this city, this is the best you could do?” Uriah teased.

Akira leaned over and turned on the light. “Hey, this is the closest place I know of. We can’t exactly outrun them right now,” she said, strolling into the room. “One of the maintenance guys sleeps here when the wife kicks him out. Most of the time, it’s empty.”

Uriah glanced around at the abundance of liquor bottles that littered the floor. “I’m pretty sure this guy has a drinking problem.”

“Probably the reason his wife keeps kicking him out.”

Uriah walked over and thumbed through a copy of Civilización y barberie. “But he has good taste in books.”

Other than the liquor bottles and a few books, the room contained a bare mattress, a small fridge, and a lamp. There wasn’t room for much else.

Akira bent over, picked up a few pieces of garbage off the floor, and shoved them behind the mattress.

“Should you be doing that? He might notice.”

“We could paint the walls pink and decorate them with Metallica posters and this guy wouldn’t notice. I promise.”

Uriah glanced up at the dingy walls and decided he didn’t care much anyway. “How did you ever find this place?”

“Oh, you know…I have a lot of free time on my hands.”

Uriah looked around with a frown.

“That was a joke.”

Uriah lowered himself onto the mattress and forced a smile. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little off today.” He knew Akira was trying to cheer him up, but he couldn’t help being the tiniest bit annoyed that she was interfering with the one day a year he allowed himself to mourn Arael’s absence.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” Akira demanded. “The Watchers have been following you for a while. So what if they’re being more obvious about it now, you had to expect it as some point.”

Uriah gave her a bemused smile and sighed.

“Oh, shit.” Akira stifled an incredulous smirk. “It’s June tenth, isn’t it?”

Uriah looked down at his lap, hoping his silence would be answer enough.

Akira crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall, shaking her head. “I knew it. You come here every year, don’t you?”

Uriah nodded slowly.

“Wow. You are one sentimental son of a bitch. Nobody keeps up with the mortal calendar like you.”

“It’s the best way to—”

“To torture yourself?” Akira cut in. “It’s been almost twenty years, Uriah. Isn’t it time to put her behind you?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t have a qanima, so I couldn’t understand,” Akira said in a mocking tone. She strode the two steps to the other side of the small space and sat beside him on the mattress. “I just know how awful it is to see you like this.”

“I’m fine here by myself if you don’t want to stay. I came here to mope in solitude anyway.”

“Are you kidding? I’m not leaving you alone now.” Akira sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am. I’ve told you so many times how sorry I am, right?”

“Yes, you have.”

“And I’ve never, in twenty years, said one bad thing about her, have I?”

“No…you haven’t.”

“Well, I think it’s time for some truth.”

Uriah closed his eyes. The last think he wanted to hear was Akira’s “truth.”

“It’s time to move on, Uriah. She’s not coming back. Even if she wanted to. You know she can’t.”

“I know. I just thought—”

“That she’d contact you by now? That she’d send you a message?”

Uriah hesitated, not wanting to admit his disappointment. “Yeah, I guess.”

“And she hasn’t. So what does that tell you?”

“It tells me nothing,” Uriah said. “She could have been captured. She might not be able to.”

“I’ve searched the Void for her, Uriah. Every time you’ve asked me to. She’s not there. Besides, if Apollyon had found her, you know the celebration he would have had. And he wouldn’t have his Watchers following you around.”

Uriah deflated. “I know you’re right. I just don’t know what to do. I can’t make myself take that first step.” He raised both palms in the air. “I don’t even know what the first step would be.”

Akira looked thoughtful for a moment, then stood. “Well…I think I have an idea.” She leaned forward and grabbed a glass bottle of clear liquid and two grimy glasses from atop the miniature refrigerator.

“What are you doing?” Uriah asked wearily. “We can’t get drunk.”

Akira poured the liquid into the two glasses. “Sure we can.” She handed one small glass of tequila to Uriah. He looked at her skeptically.

“What?” Akira shrugged. “So, maybe I’ve tried this before.”

“I just don’t see how this can work.” Uriah still wasn’t certain. “The structure of our defensive system prevents any kind of longstanding impairment.”

Akira lolled her head to the side and let out a fake snore. “Oh, I’m sorry. I think I fell asleep there for a second. Will you just trust me, please? It won’t last long, but it’ll be fun. Come on.”

“Okay,” Uriah said with understandable caution, knowing any kind of consumption like this would require the use of their physical bodies, “But what if Mr. Maintenance Man come back? He might see us.”

“Well, now you’re just being silly.”

Uriah sighed. He really didn’t want to argue with her, and what did he have to lose anyway?

Uriah looked at the glass for a long, hard moment. How many times had he witnessed the humans using alcohol as a tool to escape their pain? Could it work for him, too? Probably not, but…

It’s worth a try, he thought before bringing the glass to his lips and tipping back his head.

“Hell yeah!” Akira raised her glass in the air, then slammed it back before pouring them another.

“And then—” Uriah laughed. “—I jumped right into the Thames.”

Akira doubled over with laughter, slapping the mattress beside her. “Are you serious?”

“They were so pissed,” Uriah hickuped. “I just waved while they screeched at me for an hour from the shore.”

“Oh my God, that’s priceless. I wish I could’ve seen that.”

“Yeah, it was pretty funny.”

Their laughter died down, and Uriah leaned back onto his elbows.

Akira turned to look back at him with bloodshot eyes. “It’s nice to see you smile again.”

It was then that Uriah remembered why he hadn’t been smiling in the first place. He blew out a tequila-tinged breath. It had been a nice reprieve, if only for a few moments.

He took another drink, straight from the bottle this time.

“Ok, buddy.” Akira reached and took the bottle from him.

Her hand crossed Uriah’s body, bringing Akira’s face just inched from his. When her fingers brushed his, a strange tingle prickled his skin. As an Empath, he’d felt a modified version of this before, a wafting red desire that was reserved only for the mortals. For a moment he was confused.

He rubbed the netting fabric of her shirt between his fingers. Something peculiar fluttered in his chest. His heart beat just a bit faster, and he swallowed hard to catch his breath. Was this the effects of the alcohol? Or something else?

He thought about the Founders and the wives they had taken and the actions that had led to the creation of the Nephilim. Maybe it’s not just a human emotion after all.

“I never answered your questions from before,” Uriah said, his voice low.

Akira cleared her throat before she spoke. “What question?”

“I do like your outfit.”

A flirtatious grin spread across Akira’s lips. “Oh yeah?”

Uriah felt a strange tug in his stomach at her breathy tone. He was suddenly afraid to move, afraid of what might happen if he did. Akira stopped too and looked at him with questioning eyes.

Uriah raised his hand slowly and ran a thumb over her red lips. They’re so soft. Almost like silk. Whatever was happening inside him had never happened before, but he’d seen enough human interaction to know what would happen next if he didn’t rid himself of this human form.

Damned physical bodies.

Damned alcohol.

“Uh, I’m—I’m not sure what’s happening, but—”

Akira exhaled through parted lips. “I think it’s called moving on,” she said, pulling his mouth up to meet hers.

Without hesitation, Uriah’s hands snaked around her waist and pulled her closer.

He’d seen humans kiss a thousand times and never saw the appeal in it. It appeared to be a disgusting habit, but they seemed to like it well enough. Now he understood why.

The softness of Akira’s lips sent a wave of heat straight to the pit of his stomach. His temperature rose along with his heartrate when her tongue found its way into his mouth.

“I get the feeling you’ve done this before, too.” Uriah said when he finally pulled away from her.

“We don’t have to talk about that right now.”

“Akira, I don’t think we should do this.” The words were there, but before he could get them out, she cut him off with another, deeper kiss. And for the first time in Uriah’s existence, Arael was gone from his mind. The pain that he’d carried with him for twenty years…vanished, and heat and sensation were the only things in his mind. In one swift movement, Akira’s back was on the mattress and his face was over hers.

As his mouth continued to explore hers, he ran his hand over the pale skin of her stomach. Has her skin always been this soft? He wouldn’t know, as he’d never touched her like this before.

Akira exhaled when their lips parted. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she whispered.

Uriah answered her with another kiss that chased all his pain away.