Devil in Three Piece Suit
Hahaaaa Blashepmy.
Thunder rumbled threateningly in the distance and the darkening grey sky held the promise of rain. The smell of rain and earth was strong; the wind dulled as it swirled through the trees and rattled the ancient wooden doors of the old single room church. Well, single room wasn’t exactly correct; the main doors opened up to a moderately large main room, old warped pews standing in rows, vandalism and neglect musing the once neat and orderly arrangement. The room was headed by an altar, surprisingly untouched by all but time and dust, but a small door to the left led through to a small back hallway that opened to two rooms; one, dark and stale, with a row of old musty beds and the second an office. Which was currently where the vague feeling of unrest and agitation was leaking from.
“Fuck!” Ciaran cursed as he rooted through the desk drawers, scattering papers across the solid surface of the old heavy wooden desk as he snarled. He knew it was here, it had to be. Letting out an aggravated sigh, he shoved the chair back and stood, moving over to the wall to wall bookcase across from the window. Reaching for the nearest thick leather bound volume; he yanked it down, flipping through it quickly before tossing it over his shoulder. Wrinkling his nose, he fought back a cough as dust rose from the shelf. Evidently, this was not a well used library. Not that he gave a shit; it was all going up in flames anyway. Pausing in his perusal through one of the hand bound volumes, he set it aside.
Okay, so he would salvage that one.
Continuing his rummaging assault on the office, he thought over the information he had.
Okay, think. He knew it was here, somewhere. Probably a hand bound book, handwritten and old.
This should date back to the 17th century which meant he’d have to be careful. The leather shoulder bag lying on the chair held tracing paper, soft cloth and some bindings; that should be enough to keep the diary intact and worth its price until he got to Daren.
He just hoped to God that someone else hadn’t gotten here before he had. Some people were willing to pay a lot for information, and that made it a competitive business. It was bad enough the fucking preacher had had a heart attack last night, or Ciaran would have just gotten it straight from the man himself. Fuck. Luck was not on his side this week. Not that he blamed it, he had never been lucky. If this life had taught him anything that was the lesson he kept the closest. The blond, blue eyed half angel shook his head as he started pulling down all the hand bound volumes from the shelf and stacking them on the desk.
Being an information broker sucked sometimes. Sure, it was good money; hell, it was better than good, it was great. But it was also dangerous. Especially the kind of information he was in line for. Not to mention the amount of legwork he had to put into it.
Ever since the fall of Lucifer and his retaliation of introducing Original Sin into God’s ‘Perfect’ domain, demons and angels both had made homes on earth. Midguard. Whatever. And that meant they interacted with humans. Quite regularly actually, Ciaran had discovered that most large businesses and corporations were run by other kind. Not just demons, but kinfolk and shifters too. Angels tended to stray towards the opposite end of the scale, working in -he snorted- churches and homeless shelters, rehab facilities and schools. Places where people suffered. He had been one of those people once, before Jordan had showed up and revealed his heritage. Then he had up and disappeared and Collin had found him. He wished he knew where Collin was, but the Angel had become unreachable after Ciaran had been forced to drop off the radar when he was 16. Collin had been his saviour; the one Jordan had promised to be before the man up and vanished.
He pursed his lips. Sometimes not having his memories really sucked. Both Jordan and Collin had told him that someone had placed a seal over his soul memories, and it would take a lot of power to break it. Collin had offered to do so once, but that had been before the Pain-In-His-Ass showed up and he’d been forced to drop everything and run. He blinked and shook his head.
But thinking about Collin would get him nowhere. Moving on to the bottom shelf, he went to toss the book behind him when a dull thud made him pause.
“Well, fuck.” Sneaky little bastard, he grinned. Prying the old brass buckle off the front cover, he opened the book-which wasn’t a book at all. The pages had been stuck together and then a large hole cut out of the centre. The opening was stuffed with old yellowed pieces of parchment covered in scrawling black ink. A quick glance at the content told him his search was over.
Bingo. Bringing the book over to the desk, he set it down gently and pulled his kit from his bag. Gently and carefully removing the set of papers from the hollow book, he shook out the tracing paper and wrapped them together loosely, before covering the bundle in soft cloth and binding it all together. Placing it, and two other leather bound books carefully in his bag, he slung it over his shoulder and turned around, ready to head out and remove all traces of his rummaging, and hopefully, throw any other trackers off his trial.
Hoo yeah, he loved playing with matches and holy kindling.
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A tall man walked heavily down the darkened church corridors, body tense with concentration. After a moment the man's steps brought him to the edge of the large, open steeple. Benches upon benches lined up before a towering statue of the crusification. The man looked around a moment, before relaxing his shoulders. He tugged down the hood of his drenched jacket, revealing short blonde hair and a stark black cloth, bound tightly around unseeing eyes.
"Well Clyde?" A voice sounded from the alter at the front of the room, before a figure moved forward from the shadows.
Clyde unzipped his rain jacket, shrugging the waterlogged fabric off of his shoulders and tossing it over one of the wooden church pews. "I didn't sense anyone in the building," he stated, strolling forward to take a seat in the front bench, staring straight at the young man who moved towards him. "You can start the ceremony now if you'd like."
"About time," the smaller man stepped forward, already devoid of his own rain jacket. He shrugged his shouders a bit, moving to stretch his arms over his head. "Here I was thinking we wouldn't get a start on this until the god damned sun rose."
"Usari." Clyde said the name warningly, crossing his arms over his chest and leveling the other man with a blindfolded look.
Usari made a small huffing noise, blowing a strand of jet black hair out of his eyes. "Right right, I'll get to work. He rolled up his shirt cuffs, his tanned skin stretched taught over his tensing muscles.
Clyde knew the signs well, Usari was nervous. Which he had a right to be, this would be his first deal solo afterall. None of his brothers were there to help, and Clyde had strict instructions only to step in if he deemed it absolutely neccisary. But there was no harm in a luttke verbal assistance. "Did you set up your grid?"
"Yes."
"Did you remember the incantation."
"I know it by heart I-"
"Do you have your scythe?"
"Damnit Clyde yes!" Usari bristled raising his hand up and grasping at the air, with a sharp tug he pulled a long wooden handle from the void of nothingness, followed soon by a long, curving blade. "See, all set. Now could you please just let me do this thing?!"
Clyde raised his hands up in surrender, trying not to smile as Usari grumbled and swore his way back up the steps to the statue. The smaller man held the scythe up with two hands, gazing straight to the eyes of the christ figure as he began to chant.
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Reaching the door, Ciaran adjusted his bag and went to grab the handle when a surge of energy made him pause.
Awe, Hell no. Demonic energy prickled at his senses, and he narrowed his eyes. Daren said there was someone else after the book, but I really didn't think they'd catch on this quick. Glancing back towards the window assured him that whoever was here - there were two of them he was pretty sure- were only in the front, and thus, probably hadn't caught on to him. Which was good, considering he didn't want them to.
Couple that with the fact that he had spent a good half an hour cursing and throwing shit around, well, if they were here to find him, they would have done so by now. Curiosity peaking, he gently turned the old brass knob in his hand and slowly pushed the door open. It protested, but not very well and it opened almost soundlessly after the first squeaking groan. Stepping out, he avoided cracked and squeaky floorboards, staying in the shadows as he moved around the back hall and towards one of the side doors that led to the main room. Coming to a halt in the shadows of the splintering doorway, the half angel blinked in surprise.
Two men stood, one at the altar, large scythe in hand, and another, watching over him.
Well son of a bitch, wasn't that interesting? Looks like hell's own son's were coming up to reap the dead. He was vaguely aware of the process, something about there not being an actual grim reaper; just the 13 sons of Lucifer come to collect on your soul should you fuck up. He was pretty sure that's where a few people he knew were going. Heh, if it wasn't for his incessant reincarnation on Earth with half his soul in Heaven's Hand's, that was probably where he would be going.
But alas, there was nothing he could do that would be worthy of a fall; nothing he particularly wanted to do anyway. But as he watched the young man standing at the altar, staring in the face of His Brother the Savior of Man, and chanting the words that would be instrumental in opening the gates of Hell, he nostalgic; in a sick and ironic sort of way. That, and it felt like it was a big Fuck You to the man upstairs, which he was a little okay with.
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Usari continued chanting his incantation, scythe warming in the palms of his hands. He kept his eyes locked firmly on the face of the christian lord and saviour, where he knew the particular spirit they were here to harvest was hiding. The man was holy, and stubborn, and had a deal worth a decent amount in hell. Funny enough, some of their juiciest deals came from the holiest of men. He smiled, his eyes flicking from blue to red, the crimson bleeding out from his pupil. Energy began to pulse through his body, his muscles rippling as his true form pushed through into his mortal skin. He made a small noise of pain, still not quite used to the feel of his wings tearing out from his metaphysical self. His shoulders hunched, before his wings pushed out, tearing through the fabric of his shirt.
He spread the dark membrane, stretching them out and flexing against the cold church air. He had to fight not to break his focus, because really letting his wings out felt like taking a deep breath of fresh air. He turned the scythe upright, his horns sliding out from beneath his bangs and his fangs coming into view. He tensed, bringing the scythe down hard as his body finally slid into his full form. The blade sliced through the air and seemingly through the statue in front of him, slipping into the heavy stone as if it were water. There was an ear splitting screech through out the room, before Usari dragged his scythe, blade to the ground, out from within the statue. With the tip of the blade came a figure, seemingly pinned to the weapon. The figure of a recently deceased priest.
"Excellent." Clyde didn't move from where he stood, but he smiled as he felt more than saw Usari snag the spirit of their sinning father. He flashed a bit of a double thumbs up in Usari's direction, the smaller demon turning and grinning at his body guard. "You're getting better at that."
"I know, right?" Usari dragged the spirit the rest of the way out, digging his blade into the ground enough that he could release his hold on the handle of the scythe. "I can't wait to shove this in Reita's face. He bet me fifty bucks that I wouldn't be able to get it on my first solo."
"Hey, those chickens haven't hatched just yet," Clyde scolded, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the pew again. "You still have to drag his soul down."
"I'm working on it." Usari grumbled, turning back and squatting down where the spirit lay, pinned. "Sorry buddy, but you made the deal, I'm just here to collect on it."
"You can't," The priest made a wavering noise, terror radiating from his corporeal form. "I repented before death, I am absolved from my sins."
Usari made a small 'tch-ing' noise, his claws elongating from his fingernails as he made to reach for the ghost. His fingers tore at the spirit's hair, tugging the priest's head back to look the man in his long dead eyes. "It doesn't work like that sweetheart." He grinned, his teeth inhumanly sharp in his mouth. "You see, the good lord may forgive you, but he has no sway in hell. The deal stands, you got away with your mortal crimes. All of those little bodies disappeared. No one asked when the alter-boys went missing." He pressed his other hand against the ghost's head, flames beginning to curl out of his palm and lick out at the dead priest. "You got to keep your American dream, you got to fuck your little boys, and now you get to rot in hell."
"No, wait I-"
"Too late." In the blink of an eye flames engulfed the spirit, consuming his flesh whole as he was torn down to the lower realms of hell. He screamed all the way down, and Usari couldn't help but spit on the dissipating flames. "Fucker." He growled, dragging his scythe out of the now empty floor, the blade slipping seamlessly out of the floor, leaving the wood entirely undamaged.
"Impressive," Clyde stood, brushing his hands on his pants and making his way over to where Usari was sliding his scythe back in between realms. When the weapon vanished completely Usari grinned at the taller demon. Cylde shook his head and ruffled his hair affectionately. "That wasn't too shabby at all."
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"Yes, that was well done," Ciaran said, clapping slowly and emerging lazily from his shadowed vantage point. He wore a lazy and confident smirk, knowing that his presence was still completely masked even after stepping into plain sight.
"Well well well. I came to get a book and what do I find? Lucifer's thirteenth son and guardian, reaping souls for daddy," he grinned, blue eyes taking a dangerous glint. "If I would have know you were coming, I would've waited. Much easier to find things when you question the source," He shrugged, coming to rest meters from the pair, the young demon still standing in front of the crucifix, weapon gone and appearance wavering. He knew know that they had nothing to do with him, his book was safe from potential thieving (for now), and they didn't seem to be looking for a fight.
"So, grim reaper, do you have a name, or should I just call you 'Thirteen'?"
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Usari's wings twitched a bit at his side, his teeth slowly sliding back to their dulled, human state. The clapping caught him completely by surprise, the body accompanying the noise causing him to go rigid with shock. Clyde had said he cleared the place, and Clyde's specialty was as a sensitive. To say that the presence of this smug blonde left him shocked was an understatement. He felt Clyde subconciously slide up beside him, the older demon's hands hovering just at his back. He looked up at the older man questioningly, but Clyde's facial expression was dark. He was obviously just as surprised at this intruder. He felt his horns slide back into his brow, his wings twitching in at his side before disappearing back into his flesh. This was bad. It was pretty much the single solitary rule he had to follow in his life. Don't get caught. Don't expose yourself to the public, and don't expose humans to the existance of demons. Dad's gonna be pissed. "You can call me Usari," he took his time with the words, his tone cautious as he revealed his name to the stranger. He might as well, the damage had been done.
"Usari," Clyde's tone was warning, but he didn't interfere. The older demon had always been fairly respectful of Usari's authority, despite the fact that he was technically his guardian and had raised him since his creation.
"It's okay Clyde," Usari shot back quietly, his eyes fixed on where Ciaran had stopped a few feet from them. "He knows who I am, what's the harm in giving him a name." He paused, raising his his voice a touch to indicate that he was addressing Ciaran as well. "That is, so long as he has enough balls to give a name in return."
He stepped forward and away from Clyde, motioning for the older demon to stay put as he made his way over to where Ciaran stood. The blonde man held his ground though, not so much as flinching even as Usari allowed the red to seep back from his eyes, leaving them their usual stormy blue. "You seem to have me at a disadvantage." He stated, casually crossing his arms over his chest and trying his best not to give the man a once over. Instead he forced himself to look into eyes bluer than his own, trying to figure out exactly what had him so unnerved by the other man. He wasn't one to be afraid, but this guy had him on edge. "You seem to know a bit about us, but I don't know who the hell you are."
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"Me?" The halfbreed shrugged, a look of neutrality and ease on his face. "I usually go by Ciaran, but you'll probably find a few people who've blessed me with something a little less appropriate for polite society." His grin was sharp and wicked as Usari approached; daddy's youngest, then. Collin had briefly explained to him all about Lucifer's bakers dozen of sons, their names and main strengths. Trust the war mongrel to know everything about the other side. He watched as the man reverted to his human form. And a fine form it was. The baby demons was a few inches shorter than his own 5'11", with jet black hair and blue eyes, once the red bled from them, leaving them clear and deep.
Arching one blond brow, he stood firm as Usari paused, less than a foot away. "And I suspect," he started, lowering his voice to an appropriate level for their proximity, "that you wouldn't know who the hell I am, because contrary to what my business associates might tell you, I don't actually deal with Hell. Just their minions." He smiled, one hand hooking casually into the hook that attached his shoulder strap to his bag. "You know, I think I've actually heard about you. Aren't you a big-shot in business or something?" he tilted his head back and frowned a little, trying to place him. He move had him staring down at the baby demon, his human body looked a few years younger than his own, barely out of the teen years. He himself was nearly 27, but he wouldn't place the demon at more than 24 or 25. If that. His power level was immature too. Raw and powerful yes, but just that; raw and undefined. Which meant...
"Daddy's youngest out and about huh? Just how young are you?" He murmured, frown on his face.
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Usari made a slightly offended noise at the back of his throat, crossing his arms and starring Ciaran down. "You make it sound like I'm a baby or something." He gritted out, looking a touch put off by the comment. His wariness gave way to his stubborn nature, his eyebrows raising in disbelief at Ciaran. "I'm old enough to know my way around the world." He grumbled a bit, before he finally broke eye-contact with Ciaran, gazing up and down the slightly taller man.
Wow. It was hard to keep the scowl on his face when he really got a good look at the blonde. Dude was a hottie. He bit at his lip, raking his gaze up Ciaran's firm body to his sweet face, marveling in how soft the man's features were. It made the attitude he was whipping around seem really out of place. He had a sort of bohemian librarian look about him, really the only thing missing were some wire classes to perch on his nose. He tried his best not to smile at that though, choosing instead to answer Ciaran's question directly. "I'm Usari Tarriq, I'm 21, and I happen to run the largest automotive parts business in the country." He stated, flicking his gaze back up to lock with Ciaran's.
Clyde frowned, watching Usari completely divulge his identity to this complete and total stranger> It concerned him how free Usari was with his identity. But what concerned him even more was the fact that he still couldn't read this man. And he was right in the room. Something was completely and totally blocking his energy signature. He couldn't even so much as tell whether he was human or not. And that made him very, very uncomfortable.
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Usari Tarriq... yeah, that sounded familiar. He had probably run past that name on the news and other such things. He didn't really deal with current news a lot, locked away in his library of ancient books and documents. Ciaran snorted.
"You are a baby. Twenty one? Jesus, you're practically still a teenager," he smirked. And a spoiled one, if he was reading the cocky attitude right. Feeling the itch of someone staring at him, he briefly redirected his attention to the other man in the room.
He was blindfolded and tall, taller than him at least, and looked, well, like he was a bodyguard. Except for the blindfold. His eyes widened a fraction as he looked the other man up and down. "You're a watcher." he stated with some surprise. Watchers were rare. This was the first time he had actually even seen one even. He had read about them plenty, sure, he knew they were born without eyes, contrary to their titles, and were super sensitive. Which would probably be why he was looking about ready to demand some answers as to why Ciaran was there in the first place, and how he didn't sense him. He would have let up on the shield, a total repression of his presence if a sudden loud noise of people crashing through into the clearing and a loud rough cursing filled the air.
Rolling his eyes he groaned almost soundlessly.
"Really, he sent the bozo brothers? Fuck me." He breathed, straightening and glancing towards the closed church doors.
"Well, that's my cue to GTFO." He said, stepping back from Usari and flickign his glance over the two of them. "You might want to consider vanishing as well," he turned, heading back through the doorway. He would have to go out the window, there was no way he was going to hold down in a fight and worry about keeping this mess of papers and leather intact. "Later!" He tossed back, sprinting down the hallway and into the office. He wouldn't be able to burn it, but at least he wouldn't have to deal with dumb and dumber. Launching himself over the desk, he hit the window and was out, vanishing into the thick of trees and heading back towards the city.
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Usari didn't even have time to be offended by the teenager comment, though he did splutter a bit as Ciaran booked it out of the church at top speed. The commotion outside grew louder, and he felt Clyde's hands close around his shoulders before they vanished, re-appearing in the living room at their home. They had no idea who that man had been, or why Clyde could not sense him. How the blonde had even known what a watcher was was confusing enough. They had a face, and they had a name. But that got them next to nothing.
Over the next week Usari got a couple lower level demons to check hell's records on anyone named Ciaran, but there were no traces in him in any of the public files. He was stumped. So he just tried his best to work, to push those sharp blue eyes and that soft, grinning face as far to the back of his mind as he could. He focused on his work, and within a week, he'd managed to push thoughts of that stranger aside in favour for an upcoming presentation to the board of directors. When he worked, he could avoid dwelling on unnecessary topics. Like that night in the church. He was quite content just to work and ignore the rest of the world.
Which is probably how he found himself sitting in the bistro at the base of his building, his laptop in front of him, working through yet another lunch hour. He chewed absent-mindedly at the wrap he'd ordered and nursed his fourth cup of coffee that day. He only had two days before his presentation, and he had to prepare the company's financial spread sheets for overview. Which was easy really. But tedious. And boring. And he was just about to put his face through the computer screen. But hey, work was work and money didn't grow on trees. Might as well make the best of it. He sighed, leaning back a bit and bringing his coffee to his lips, trying hard not to let his mind wander to a certain blonde who'd mysteriously vanished into the night...
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The chair across from Usari's scrapped across the floor as it was pulled out before the blond haired blue eyed mystery plopped himself down and dropped his bag on the ground beside him.
"You know, working through lunch isn't healthy. It's called 'lunch break' for a reason." He sounded amused, and set the cup of coffee he was carrying down in front of him, levelling Usari with a look that all but demanded he respond.
Okay, so he was a maybe a bit of a stalker. But seriously, why was Hell's youngest on Earth and running a business instead of down below his feet rolling around in molten lava and tortured souls? If he had been a cat, curiosity would have killed him long ago, Daren was fond of telling him. Speaking of Daren, Ciaran pulled his phone out and checked it. Nothing. He sighed and pocketed the device, taking a sip of coffee and waiting for the little tyke to stop fucking around on his computer and talk to him.
After their little run in, Ciaran had discreetly asked around and checked up on news and such relating to Usari and the company he ran. He didn't find much. Just the usual, glowing praise and amazed masses, huge financial success and great reviews of their equipment. After talking to Daren, he had uncovered that Usari and his watchdog- Clyde? If the name was correct, he craned his neck searching the floor for the tall blind demon but didn't see him.
"Where's your friend? Clyde right? I would've expected tighter security in a place like this." Oh yeah, Usari had apparently been charged with being Hell's front man on Earth. No one knew why, but it had something to do with the demons unstable power level, so the rumour went about.
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So maybe Usari did a bit of a double take when he looked up from his computer screen to find himself staring face to face with the man he had just been trying supremely hard NOT to think about. Maybe. But really, it was hard to blame him. He quickly saved his spread sheet, his hands running along the top of his laptop before he gently let the lid close. "Clyde doesn't stay with me while I'm at work." He stated, slowly, his eyes focused on the baby blues which may or may not have been haunting his dreams over the past couple nights. If he was going to be completely cliche. "I'm a big boy, I don't need to be babysat at my job."
And he really really didn't. He'd won awards for his work in business, and he was damned proud of the ship he ran. He wasn't about to have people whispering about an inability to take care of himself and his job. Clyde worked in the building, and sometimes he did a few things as Usari's stand in PA, but he didn't need the man breathing down his neck twenty four seven. He folded his hands over his laptop, watching the blonde man carefully over the table. "So, what brings you to this particular bistro today?" He asked, because really, he wasn't going to buy coincidence. No matter how hard Ciaran might try to sell it. There was a little terrified part of him which was alarmed by the fact that Ciaran seemed to be stalking him. At least in some capacity. He reached up, adjusting the fall of his tie and looking around the room a bit. No one seemed to be looking their way, which was at least a good sign. He really didn't need to appear to be doing anything sketchy during work hours. "Just out for a coffee?"
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"Hmm," Ciaran took a slow sip of coffee and smiled. "Just coffee, actually. But maybe you too," he set the cup down and sat back in his chair, eyes locked on the young demon in front of him. "This is you're office yeah? Well, the building anyway. I've seen your portfolio, its quite impressive." He said, smile of bemusement twitching at his lips indicating that Usari's portfolio wasn't the only thing he'd found.
He smirked, watching as Usari subtly scanned the room, waiting until he was done before speaking. "No need to be paranoid, batty, there's nothing I particularly want to do to you that would get me into trouble with your guardian," he sat forward again, resting one arm on the table and propping his chin on his hand. "My friends always tell me my curiosity is going to get me into trouble one day, and I might just be inclined to agree.' he murmured, knowing that they weren't likely to be overheard. Lunch time was busy, and everyone had other things to do than wonder towards the pretty blond man speaking with one of the most financially powerful men in the country.
"So, let's play twenty questions. I'll start; why are you here?" He gestured absently with his hand in the vague direction of everywhere. He meant of course, Earth.
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Usari hesitated for a moment at the question, slightly taken-aback by the heavy implication behind the words. He suddenly felt a little self-concious of the conversation. He could tell Ciaran, but he'd risk exposing his weakness to the man. And he still couldn't get a feel for what Ciaran even was. It was something so familiar, but still really different. Yet there was something just distinctly human about the man, and it was throwing Usari off. He cleared his throat, before he sighed. "Well, you'll probably figure it out eventually," he grumbled, running a hand through his dark hair. "I'm sick, so I can't stay in hell. The atmosphere eats away at me like it would an..." Angel. Usari trailed off mid sentence, realization dropping down over him like a rock. "You're an angel." He murmured, his gaze once again scanning the room around them. "You're an angel, that makes so much sense." He ran a hand over his face, before giving Ciaran a once over. "Though I've got to admit, you're not what I expected of heaven's little birdies. My dad told me that you guys were all love bombing, robe wearing ninnies."
Which Ciaran definitely was not. Even in just a t-shirt and jeans, there was something fairly sinful about this particular angel. Maybe it was just the way he spoke, low and sensual like he was flirting. The man just came off as a touch shameless. And there was still something too ridiculously human about him, something that seemed to almost taint his angelic aura.
Wait. Ciaran wasn't full bloodied. The idea lit up with a clarity in Usari's mind, before he was sent into another whirl of thought. Halfbreed angels were incredibly rare, as they were considered a blasphemy and often were discarded shortly after birth. Even those who escaped such a fate were later hunted down and captured. So how was this one existing on earth, successfully masking his presence while simultaneously flaunting around like he didn't have a care in the world.
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"Sick?" Ciaran raised his eyebrow and gave the man a quick once over. He didn't look like anything was wrong with him, and if what Ciaran had seen the other day was the norm, than he still had access to his powers. Not being able to survive the atmosphere in Hell though? How did that even happen.
Wait.
"Robe wearing ninnies?" Ciaran's voice rose to sceptical, hardly able to envision the Lord of Hell saying the word ninnies, let alone 'love bombing'. "Not that I would know really, being a half-breed means I don't spend much time up there," he said waving his hand in the vague direction of the sky. Collin had told him a few things, like that they used to be friends, he had lived in heaven, for quite a while actually, and had been Collin's personal ambassador and negotiator for a while too. Which he was inclined to believe, he could talk his way in and out of almost everything. Something Daren liked to remind him about, every now and then.
"I'm guessing you've never met an angel. Or haven't known that you have." He shrugged. "Apparently we're pretty common down here. Can find the poor saps wherever there's a wounded child or poor old man. Hospitals, are a good bet." He had met his fair share between those cold sterile walls, shining of light and forgiveness among the sea of dead dying. On the topic of hospitals;
"How'd you get sick? Though, that does explain quite a lot." Like why you're probably a spoiled brat, Ciaran thought, the cocky attitude and brash uncertain way of dealing with things indicating that he probably got whatever he wanted, when he wanted, and didn't like when that didn't happen. Fuckin' rich kids.
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"Actually the reason I'm sick is the same reason I've never met an angel." Usari gave Ciaran a weighted look, trying to resist the urge to cross his arms over his chest. He didn't want to look oppositional, but he didn't trust angels and with very good reason. "Before I was created, my energy was severely damaged inside the host. An angel attacked my father and hurt him pretty bad, so when I was born, they found out that the damage had affected me too."
He shrugged a bit, bringing his coffee back to his lips. "Why all the fascination though? Obviously I'm not the first demon you've ever met." He stated, raising a brow at Ciaran from across the table. "You just felt like creeping on me for the hell of it or...?" He was actually fairly curious as to why Ciaran had taken such an interest in him. Out of all of his brothers, he kept the lowest profile in the spiritual world. The human world, however, there was hardly a major corporation that didn't know his name. Well, his and his fathers. But he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to clue Ciaran into the fact that his father, Jordan, ran and owned the parent company to his branch.
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"You were att- your father was attacked by an angel?" Shit. Well, if someone was attacking high ranking demons- Usari's father had to be high ranking, if he was pushing out Lucifer's kids, and the only dickwad close to that ability would be...
"Asshole," he swore quietly, taking another drink of his coffee to cover his agitation. Michael was an ass. A high ranking, second hand of God, insanely powerful ass. Ciaran had run into him exactly twice. Once, just before Collin had arrived and pulled him from the church, and when he was sixteen; forced to run from the safety and security of Collin's arms. Michael was an ass, and Ciaran, from what he'd been told, had a long standing grudge against him anyway. That, and Michael wanted him as some kind of personal play toy, for some reason not even Collin had known. Setting his drink down, he was glad for the focus switch.
"Well, you're just interesting. It's not everyday you meet Hell's youngest after all. Call me a cat, but I don't really like unsolved mysteries. You were one of them until a few minutes ago." he shrugged. Usari was right, Ciaran delt with demons on a regular basis, fuck he'd lived with one for four and a half years. Daren had taken him under his wing when he was still sixteen and running from the nightmare at his back. The man had given him a place to stay while he masked his presence and went underground. Helped him to his feet and gave him a place to stay, a job to do and a very large amount of steady income. Plus, hey, breaking and entering was a great life skill wasn't it?
"You're definitely not, though, you are definitely a first something," he emphasized, still not sure exactly what that was. He didn't really deal with high ranking demons, though he had run into a few on occasion.
Okay, so he had a few clients who he had done some sketchy deals with that were high ranking demons, chilling out on Earth.
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A first something huh. Usari had to bite back the bad bad pickup lines that just rushed into his head from that sentence. He couldn't however, stop the grin from blossoming across his features. He shook his head, taking a drink of the last of his coffee before pushing the empty cup to the side. Oh god, there was just something about this man that begged to be flirted with. He resisted though, managing to quell his smile long enough to just level Ciaran with a look. "You're a lot less dickish than I expected an angel to be." He stated, thinking back to all the stories his brothers had told him of angels. "No offense intended of course, but I just thought you guys were all hateful and feathery."
Which was such a juvenile way to put it, but hey, it was accurate. He really never thought his first experience with an angel would involve stalking and flirting. Not that the stalking thing was that new. He got stalked fairly often because of his status in the world. He'd been pretty much established as a 'mafia child', mostly because no one new the truth and they needed to justify the way he was treated in the world. He held so much authority, and had so much money, and he was just barely out of his teens. It was pretty ridiculous, even by his own standards. "Did stalking me to my work happen to quench your curiosity about me?" He asked, feeling a lot more relaxed around the angel.
He probably wasn't going to tell Clyde about this encounter. Because the watcher would over-react and try and lock him away from any and all danger. Something that he tried to do fairly often, especially when it came to this kind of supernatural shit. But Ciaran didn't really seem that threatening to him. In fact, he was a touch creepy, but otherwise he was just really friendly.
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Ciaran finished his own coffee and pushed the cup out of the way on the far side of the table and shrugged. "Don't apologize, some of the biggest dicks I've ever met were angels. High ranking ones. Seems the higher you go, the bitchier you get." He shrugged, Daren called him bitchy a lot, but fuck some of those guys were real assholes. Just because they could be.
"You certainly fit the bill, Id' say," he said, hand sliding into his pocket as his cell phone vibrated against his thigh. That would be Daren. Pulling the media out, he scanned the message and repressed a sigh. "Actually, feathers have nothing to do with it," he said. Angel's weren't hateful, and it certainly had nothing to do with their wings and actually, rarely used their wings. Unless in battle, or when releasing a soul or in the presence of the Father, their wings were tucked away. So Collin said. And Daren's friend, Macks, who happened to be an angel he had run into once or twice.
"I have to say," he said standing and grabbing his cup from the table; "My curiosity is temporarily satisfied thank you, though, I'm wondering if yours isn't," he pulled his bomber on and slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder.
"But, I believe break is over, and I have to go to work," he said resting his hand briefly on Usari's shoulder as he passed. "We'll probably run into each other again," he mentioned before moving away and heading in the direction of the exit, waving as he left.
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Ciaran finished his own coffee and pushed the cup out of the way on the far side of the table and shrugged. "Don't apologize, some of the biggest dicks I've ever met were angels. High ranking ones. Seems the higher you go, the bitchier you get." He shrugged, Daren called him bitchy a lot, but fuck some of those guys were real assholes. Just because they could be.
"You certainly fit the bill, Id' say," he said, hand sliding into his pocket as his cell phone vibrated against his thigh. That would be Daren. Pulling the media out, he scanned the message and repressed a sigh. "Actually, feathers have nothing to do with it," he said. Angel's weren't hateful, and it certainly had nothing to do with their wings and actually, rarely used their wings. Unless in battle, or when releasing a soul or in the presence of the Father, their wings were tucked away. So Collin said. And Daren's friend, Macks, who happened to be an angel he had run into once or twice.
"I have to say," he said standing and grabbing his cup from the table; "My curiosity is temporarily satisfied thank you, though, I'm wondering if yours isn't," he pulled his bomber on and slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder.
"But, I believe break is over, and I have to go to work," he said resting his hand briefly on Usari's shoulder as he passed. "We'll probably run into each other again," he mentioned before moving away and heading in the direction of the exit, waving as he left.
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That was the second time that Ciaran left Usari still curious, and still wanting to know exactly who the half angel was. And no, he wasn't satisfied. He'd had a little taste of one of the most interesting people he'd ever had contact with, and for some reason, he wanted more. So this time, he found it just a little bit harder to forget about the blond bird who'd floated his way into his life. So he was a bit distracted. He did his work fine, still went to the gym, still mastered his presentations, but he would stare off into space at the dinner table, or completely zone out at his desk. All because of a certain distracting cherub. That bastard.
Despite all of the fog that this new meeting had left him with, Usari got through the rest of the week in one relative piece. He'd managed to bullshit his way through the week and it was finally Friday, which meant he could take an evening off of work, and just relax.
Which is probably why he was at the grocery store, doing one of his favourite things...picking out semi-junk food for his daily meals. Currently, he was looking at nursing a box of pizza pops for the evening. Which was possibly the most delicious thing he'd heard in a while. Mmmm pizza pops. Only thing he wasn't sure of was which kind to get, the triple cheese or the pepperoni. He held both boxes in his hand, weighing one against the other, completely consumed in the greasy dilema. Both had the potential to be delicious, but one involved murder. Tasty tasty meat murder. He smiled to himself a bit, moving to slide the pepperoni one in his cart. Sorry little piggy...or cow...or whatever the hell they put in peperoni.
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Ciaran strolled along the isles of the grocery store, every now and then tossing something in the basket he carried. Fresh vegetables and a few fruits mostly. He had everything he needed, except ice cream, so he headed towards the frozen section to collect on his cold treat and head home, ready to make dinner and chill with discovery channel and some old books that needed to be gone through. On his way however, he was confronted with the sight of none other than Usari Tarriq, holding- whaaat? Not even.
Strolling over just as Usari made to toss the pepperoni box into his cart, Ciaran reached around from behind him and snagged it.
"How about neither," he said, tossing the box back where it came from and leaning against the young demons back. "Come to my place and eat real food for a change." Wrapping his arm around Usari's shoulders, he turned the demon away from the display of instant foods and tugged him in the direction of the exit. He would have to skip the ice cream, but it was better than letting Usari in good conscious, eat that.
"Jesus, don't you have a chef or something? Why the Hell are you resorting to Pizza pops? What is wrong with you?" Ciaran asked, and glancing down and the demons face, headed off the questions.
"No I didn't stalk you here, I live close, and was in need of real food," it was honest, he actually hadn't really been looking to run into the demon. He had actually be focused on the project Daren had given him. He had studied Latin extensively in University and Daren usually came to him with translation work. It helped that he ran the library at work, so he could actually just sit in his office all day and look over whatever Daren was paying him to look at, but it was Friday and he took Friday's off. So here he was, getting groceries and offering to take one of the states most powerful CEO's home for dinner. His life was fanfuckingtastic, he had to say.
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Usari just about jumped out of his skin when Ciaran slid an arm around his shoulders and began tugging him away from his groceries. "Wait," His protests were ignored as he was marched towards the exit. "Wait, what?" He was out the door and being corralled down the street before he knew what was happening. To say that he was startled by how forward Ciaran was would be an understatement. Shocked and a little scared, probably fit the bill a bit better.
He finally managed to catch himself as they rounded a corner down the street, realizing that he had just been quite literally swept off his feet by an angel. "Whoa whoa whoa," he forced them to come to a stop, flashing Ciaran with a look that was half incredulous, half outright confused. "Did you just ask me out for dinner?"
Though, he was more being told that he was going to dinner. Which was quite ridiculous, because no one really told him what to do. Ever. And here he was being led away to lord knows where, with a man who he barely knew. Scratch that, who he didn't know at all. Coincidence or otherwise, this was just bordering on a little weird for him.
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"Well, less asked you and more very firmly nixed your idea of Pizza Pockets in favour of real food. And I didn't ask you out, since we're staying in. I'm sure your guardian will have no problem with me feeding you real food," he explained, still wanting to roll his eyes at the idea of one of the richest men in the county having a dilemma over pizza pockets. Glancing back with a raised brow he looked Usari over.
"Besides, I might not be curious anymore, but you certainly are," he smiled, adjusting his bag and waving ahead of them. "I left you with more questions than answers, and you're still interesting. I'm not far from here, you can call... Clyde if you want, but I'm pretty sure that you being twenty one and all, can make your own decisions." The look on his face was one part skeptical and one part challenging, something he was used to implying a lot in his line of work. It always worked, too. Grinning, he turned back and continued down the street, motioning Usari to follow, if he wanted. His destination was a thirty story high rise in the basic centre of downtown. It was new, and panelled almost entirely in windows, tinted semi-reflective glass giving the building a new-age, stainless and untouchable look.
"I hope you mind heights," he cautioned with amusement, digging out his keys and pushing open the lobby doors.
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Usari found himself taken aback at Ciaran's answer. He couldn't help but follow in Ciaran's footsteps, stunned into silence and ultimately lost in thought. He frowned. Was he really the curious one here? Well, Ciaran certainly was interesting. And strange. And there was so much that confused Usari about him. Like how a half-breed angel managed to walk so surely around the busy cities, when demons and angles alike would be more than happy to snuff him out. Though that wasn't the only thing that had him curious. The way that Ciaran moved, the way that he talked, his fearless, thoughtless way of just going with things. And how forward he was. It was mesmerizing. So mesmerizing that he barely even noticed where they were until Ciaran was talking about heights.
"What?" He managed, before he was led into the lobby of a high rise apartment. It was then that he realized that Ciaran was right. He wasn't going to leave. He was far too curious for that. He was hooked on a guy that he didn't even know. He subtly slipped his phone from his suit jacket, typing out a quick message for Clyde (basically a 'hey I'm out for the night, don't wait up') before quickly putting it away again. He didn't really want Ciaran seeing, not after the comment about him being old enough to make his own mind.
They moved into the elevator, going up to one of the higher level floors on the building.
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Ciaran led Usari across the deep brown and gold marble floor, worn converse making next to no sound as they approached the elevator. The door man nodded at their arrival, hitting the button to call the elevator. It didn't take long before the metal doors slid open and they stepped inside, the mirrored enclosure rumbling softly as Ciaran hit the button that would take them to the top floor.
The ride was mostly silent, Ciaran relaxed and almost lazy as the human contraption came to a stop, the number '30' flashing above the doors before they slid open quietly. The two stepped out into a warmly decorated hall; the beige and burgundy carpet beneath their feet thick and relatively plush complementing the beige walls. Neutral paintings hung every ten feet or so, and at each end of the hall sat a dark wood table holding a vase of flowers. Lighting came from small and delicate crystal chandeliers hanging from well spaced intervals, giving off a softer light than any florescent would. The overall look was kind of ritzy, but very grounding and tame compared to some places. Stopping in front of the second door on the right, (the top floor boasted only four units, each large and vaguely penthouse like) he slid his key into the lock and twisted it open. Instantly, it was easy to see the difference in style between the hall and the half-breed. While the hallway was warm and inviting, the neutral colours setting one at ease, the stark white of Ciaran's entire apartment gave a distinct minimalist impression.
Dropping his keys into the wood bowl sitting on the small table in the hallway, he ignored the closet and slid his shoes off, leaving them on the mat just inside the door.
"Well, this is home," he said waving his hand and moving further into the apartment. The back wall was lined entirely with tinted windows that held a perfect view of the sky and the busy streets below. The walls held only black and white canvas paintings or large photographs, and the living room couch was a white leather set across from a large black plasma TV held by a black wood entertainment centre. The hall to the left was lined with mirrors and more photographs, mostly scenery or city scapes and the right opened up to a kitchen and dining area, separated from the living room by a low bar that wrapped around most of the kitchen. Tossing his bag and jacket over the back of the couch, he moved to set the groceries on the counter.
"I'm not a carnivore, but I deal with demons regularly," he mentioned, pulling open the black fridge and placing various items of food on the black and white granite counter top. Gesturing towards one of the bar stools tucked beneath the bar as he started pulling out everything he wanted, he glanced at the demon.
"Ask your questions, since I've already gotten the answer to most of mine."
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Usari strolled over to where Ciaran had indicated at the counter, grabbing at the stool and pulling it out enough for him to perch casually on top of it. He was feeling a little less frazzled now that they'd stopped moving, but he was absolutely teeming with questions. He looked over at Ciaran, measuring the angel out with a level gaze. "I don't know what to think of you." He admitted, his brows furrowed as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the counter at his front. "I mean, you're a half breed, but you're not afraid to throw yourself around and casually mention it to random demon's you've just met."
He kicked his feet against the front of the counter, watching as Ciaran began pulling meat out of various cabinets and cupboards within the kitchen. "All of the half-breeds I've ever heard of have been hermits, hiding out in the wilderness." Which sort of led straight to his first issue. Which was; why the bloody hell couldn't Clyde pick this kid up? Obviously Ciaran seemed to have some fragment of control over his power. Enough to shield him, but he didn't really seem to radiate strength. There was so much grace that must have been just locked away in the blonde's body. How he managed to not only contain it all, but also suppress it enough to prevent others from feeling it was truly beyond Usari.
"Which leads me to my first question," He tilted his chin up in the palm of his hand, his eyes finding Ciaran's face as the angel moved his way around the kitchen, "how the hell did you manage to cloak yourself from a Watcher?" He asked, his brows furrowed in clear indication of how confused he was. "I mean seriously, I didn't even know that was possible. Watcher's are supposed to be able to pick up everything but the most powerful of angels. You don't really seem that big and strong to me."
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"You really need to start relying on your other senses. Just because the powers of Hell come in perfectly sized packages doesn't mean the rest of us do," Ciaran frowned at the head of lettuce in his hand and shook his head, putting it back in the fridge and shutting it. "And I didn't tell you what I was- you guessed," he reminded the demon as extracted a large pot out of one of the lower cupboards and filling it with water. "But trust me when I say I've had my fair share of problems because of my lineage," he set the pot on the stove, turning a dial and setting it to boil before picking up a knife and starting in on the vegetables.
"I haven't met any Watchers prior to your friend, so I didn't know if it would actually work or not," he shrugged. "Guess it does. It's something I've always been able to do. I don't want to be seen so I'm not." Not exactly a lie, but he wasn't just going to out with 'yeah, well just because I don't look big and strong doesn't mean I can't kick your ass'. He could- probably. But still, it wasn't the best thing to admit to Lucifer's youngest (spoiled) son that yeah, I'm actually supposed to be this super old, super powerful excommunicated angel because I did something and got myself banished. Yeah, awesome.
Snapping open a box of lasagna noodles, he dropped them into the bubbling water and turned the heat down a touch. "I'm not going to say size doesn't matter," he said, slicing mushrooms and tossing them into a bowl on the counter. "But angels don't define power in muscle mass. Actually," he thought back to Collin and some of the things he had seen that man do; "the smaller ones are usually who you want to avoid." He wasn't going to comment on the hermit mention. He was not a hermit, nor did he have seclusionist tendencies. He just wasn't overly social and thought most humans were a pain in the ass to deal with. And he liked books dammit, he didn't hide away in them. He scowled.
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Thunder rumbled threateningly in the distance and the darkening grey sky held the promise of rain. The smell of rain and earth was strong; the wind dulled as it swirled through the trees and rattled the ancient wooden doors of the old single room church. Well, single room wasn’t exactly correct; the main doors opened up to a moderately large main room, old warped pews standing in rows, vandalism and neglect musing the once neat and orderly arrangement. The room was headed by an altar, surprisingly untouched by all but time and dust, but a small door to the left led through to a small back hallway that opened to two rooms; one, dark and stale, with a row of old musty beds and the second an office. Which was currently where the vague feeling of unrest and agitation was leaking from.
“Fuck!” Ciaran cursed as he rooted through the desk drawers, scattering papers across the solid surface of the old heavy wooden desk as he snarled. He knew it was here, it had to be. Letting out an aggravated sigh, he shoved the chair back and stood, moving over to the wall to wall bookcase across from the window. Reaching for the nearest thick leather bound volume; he yanked it down, flipping through it quickly before tossing it over his shoulder. Wrinkling his nose, he fought back a cough as dust rose from the shelf. Evidently, this was not a well used library. Not that he gave a shit; it was all going up in flames anyway. Pausing in his perusal through one of the hand bound volumes, he set it aside.
Okay, so he would salvage that one.
Continuing his rummaging assault on the office, he thought over the information he had.
Okay, think. He knew it was here, somewhere. Probably a hand bound book, handwritten and old.
This should date back to the 17th century which meant he’d have to be careful. The leather shoulder bag lying on the chair held tracing paper, soft cloth and some bindings; that should be enough to keep the diary intact and worth its price until he got to Daren.
He just hoped to God that someone else hadn’t gotten here before he had. Some people were willing to pay a lot for information, and that made it a competitive business. It was bad enough the fucking preacher had had a heart attack last night, or Ciaran would have just gotten it straight from the man himself. Fuck. Luck was not on his side this week. Not that he blamed it, he had never been lucky. If this life had taught him anything that was the lesson he kept the closest. The blond, blue eyed half angel shook his head as he started pulling down all the hand bound volumes from the shelf and stacking them on the desk.
Being an information broker sucked sometimes. Sure, it was good money; hell, it was better than good, it was great. But it was also dangerous. Especially the kind of information he was in line for. Not to mention the amount of legwork he had to put into it.
Ever since the fall of Lucifer and his retaliation of introducing Original Sin into God’s ‘Perfect’ domain, demons and angels both had made homes on earth. Midguard. Whatever. And that meant they interacted with humans. Quite regularly actually, Ciaran had discovered that most large businesses and corporations were run by other kind. Not just demons, but kinfolk and shifters too. Angels tended to stray towards the opposite end of the scale, working in -he snorted- churches and homeless shelters, rehab facilities and schools. Places where people suffered. He had been one of those people once, before Jordan had showed up and revealed his heritage. Then he had up and disappeared and Collin had found him. He wished he knew where Collin was, but the Angel had become unreachable after Ciaran had been forced to drop off the radar when he was 16. Collin had been his saviour; the one Jordan had promised to be before the man up and vanished.
He pursed his lips. Sometimes not having his memories really sucked. Both Jordan and Collin had told him that someone had placed a seal over his soul memories, and it would take a lot of power to break it. Collin had offered to do so once, but that had been before the Pain-In-His-Ass showed up and he’d been forced to drop everything and run. He blinked and shook his head.
But thinking about Collin would get him nowhere. Moving on to the bottom shelf, he went to toss the book behind him when a dull thud made him pause.
“Well, fuck.” Sneaky little bastard, he grinned. Prying the old brass buckle off the front cover, he opened the book-which wasn’t a book at all. The pages had been stuck together and then a large hole cut out of the centre. The opening was stuffed with old yellowed pieces of parchment covered in scrawling black ink. A quick glance at the content told him his search was over.
Bingo. Bringing the book over to the desk, he set it down gently and pulled his kit from his bag. Gently and carefully removing the set of papers from the hollow book, he shook out the tracing paper and wrapped them together loosely, before covering the bundle in soft cloth and binding it all together. Placing it, and two other leather bound books carefully in his bag, he slung it over his shoulder and turned around, ready to head out and remove all traces of his rummaging, and hopefully, throw any other trackers off his trial.
Hoo yeah, he loved playing with matches and holy kindling.
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A tall man walked heavily down the darkened church corridors, body tense with concentration. After a moment the man's steps brought him to the edge of the large, open steeple. Benches upon benches lined up before a towering statue of the crusification. The man looked around a moment, before relaxing his shoulders. He tugged down the hood of his drenched jacket, revealing short blonde hair and a stark black cloth, bound tightly around unseeing eyes.
"Well Clyde?" A voice sounded from the alter at the front of the room, before a figure moved forward from the shadows.
Clyde unzipped his rain jacket, shrugging the waterlogged fabric off of his shoulders and tossing it over one of the wooden church pews. "I didn't sense anyone in the building," he stated, strolling forward to take a seat in the front bench, staring straight at the young man who moved towards him. "You can start the ceremony now if you'd like."
"About time," the smaller man stepped forward, already devoid of his own rain jacket. He shrugged his shouders a bit, moving to stretch his arms over his head. "Here I was thinking we wouldn't get a start on this until the god damned sun rose."
"Usari." Clyde said the name warningly, crossing his arms over his chest and leveling the other man with a blindfolded look.
Usari made a small huffing noise, blowing a strand of jet black hair out of his eyes. "Right right, I'll get to work. He rolled up his shirt cuffs, his tanned skin stretched taught over his tensing muscles.
Clyde knew the signs well, Usari was nervous. Which he had a right to be, this would be his first deal solo afterall. None of his brothers were there to help, and Clyde had strict instructions only to step in if he deemed it absolutely neccisary. But there was no harm in a luttke verbal assistance. "Did you set up your grid?"
"Yes."
"Did you remember the incantation."
"I know it by heart I-"
"Do you have your scythe?"
"Damnit Clyde yes!" Usari bristled raising his hand up and grasping at the air, with a sharp tug he pulled a long wooden handle from the void of nothingness, followed soon by a long, curving blade. "See, all set. Now could you please just let me do this thing?!"
Clyde raised his hands up in surrender, trying not to smile as Usari grumbled and swore his way back up the steps to the statue. The smaller man held the scythe up with two hands, gazing straight to the eyes of the christ figure as he began to chant.
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Reaching the door, Ciaran adjusted his bag and went to grab the handle when a surge of energy made him pause.
Awe, Hell no. Demonic energy prickled at his senses, and he narrowed his eyes. Daren said there was someone else after the book, but I really didn't think they'd catch on this quick. Glancing back towards the window assured him that whoever was here - there were two of them he was pretty sure- were only in the front, and thus, probably hadn't caught on to him. Which was good, considering he didn't want them to.
Couple that with the fact that he had spent a good half an hour cursing and throwing shit around, well, if they were here to find him, they would have done so by now. Curiosity peaking, he gently turned the old brass knob in his hand and slowly pushed the door open. It protested, but not very well and it opened almost soundlessly after the first squeaking groan. Stepping out, he avoided cracked and squeaky floorboards, staying in the shadows as he moved around the back hall and towards one of the side doors that led to the main room. Coming to a halt in the shadows of the splintering doorway, the half angel blinked in surprise.
Two men stood, one at the altar, large scythe in hand, and another, watching over him.
Well son of a bitch, wasn't that interesting? Looks like hell's own son's were coming up to reap the dead. He was vaguely aware of the process, something about there not being an actual grim reaper; just the 13 sons of Lucifer come to collect on your soul should you fuck up. He was pretty sure that's where a few people he knew were going. Heh, if it wasn't for his incessant reincarnation on Earth with half his soul in Heaven's Hand's, that was probably where he would be going.
But alas, there was nothing he could do that would be worthy of a fall; nothing he particularly wanted to do anyway. But as he watched the young man standing at the altar, staring in the face of His Brother the Savior of Man, and chanting the words that would be instrumental in opening the gates of Hell, he nostalgic; in a sick and ironic sort of way. That, and it felt like it was a big Fuck You to the man upstairs, which he was a little okay with.
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Usari continued chanting his incantation, scythe warming in the palms of his hands. He kept his eyes locked firmly on the face of the christian lord and saviour, where he knew the particular spirit they were here to harvest was hiding. The man was holy, and stubborn, and had a deal worth a decent amount in hell. Funny enough, some of their juiciest deals came from the holiest of men. He smiled, his eyes flicking from blue to red, the crimson bleeding out from his pupil. Energy began to pulse through his body, his muscles rippling as his true form pushed through into his mortal skin. He made a small noise of pain, still not quite used to the feel of his wings tearing out from his metaphysical self. His shoulders hunched, before his wings pushed out, tearing through the fabric of his shirt.
He spread the dark membrane, stretching them out and flexing against the cold church air. He had to fight not to break his focus, because really letting his wings out felt like taking a deep breath of fresh air. He turned the scythe upright, his horns sliding out from beneath his bangs and his fangs coming into view. He tensed, bringing the scythe down hard as his body finally slid into his full form. The blade sliced through the air and seemingly through the statue in front of him, slipping into the heavy stone as if it were water. There was an ear splitting screech through out the room, before Usari dragged his scythe, blade to the ground, out from within the statue. With the tip of the blade came a figure, seemingly pinned to the weapon. The figure of a recently deceased priest.
"Excellent." Clyde didn't move from where he stood, but he smiled as he felt more than saw Usari snag the spirit of their sinning father. He flashed a bit of a double thumbs up in Usari's direction, the smaller demon turning and grinning at his body guard. "You're getting better at that."
"I know, right?" Usari dragged the spirit the rest of the way out, digging his blade into the ground enough that he could release his hold on the handle of the scythe. "I can't wait to shove this in Reita's face. He bet me fifty bucks that I wouldn't be able to get it on my first solo."
"Hey, those chickens haven't hatched just yet," Clyde scolded, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the pew again. "You still have to drag his soul down."
"I'm working on it." Usari grumbled, turning back and squatting down where the spirit lay, pinned. "Sorry buddy, but you made the deal, I'm just here to collect on it."
"You can't," The priest made a wavering noise, terror radiating from his corporeal form. "I repented before death, I am absolved from my sins."
Usari made a small 'tch-ing' noise, his claws elongating from his fingernails as he made to reach for the ghost. His fingers tore at the spirit's hair, tugging the priest's head back to look the man in his long dead eyes. "It doesn't work like that sweetheart." He grinned, his teeth inhumanly sharp in his mouth. "You see, the good lord may forgive you, but he has no sway in hell. The deal stands, you got away with your mortal crimes. All of those little bodies disappeared. No one asked when the alter-boys went missing." He pressed his other hand against the ghost's head, flames beginning to curl out of his palm and lick out at the dead priest. "You got to keep your American dream, you got to fuck your little boys, and now you get to rot in hell."
"No, wait I-"
"Too late." In the blink of an eye flames engulfed the spirit, consuming his flesh whole as he was torn down to the lower realms of hell. He screamed all the way down, and Usari couldn't help but spit on the dissipating flames. "Fucker." He growled, dragging his scythe out of the now empty floor, the blade slipping seamlessly out of the floor, leaving the wood entirely undamaged.
"Impressive," Clyde stood, brushing his hands on his pants and making his way over to where Usari was sliding his scythe back in between realms. When the weapon vanished completely Usari grinned at the taller demon. Cylde shook his head and ruffled his hair affectionately. "That wasn't too shabby at all."
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"Yes, that was well done," Ciaran said, clapping slowly and emerging lazily from his shadowed vantage point. He wore a lazy and confident smirk, knowing that his presence was still completely masked even after stepping into plain sight.
"Well well well. I came to get a book and what do I find? Lucifer's thirteenth son and guardian, reaping souls for daddy," he grinned, blue eyes taking a dangerous glint. "If I would have know you were coming, I would've waited. Much easier to find things when you question the source," He shrugged, coming to rest meters from the pair, the young demon still standing in front of the crucifix, weapon gone and appearance wavering. He knew know that they had nothing to do with him, his book was safe from potential thieving (for now), and they didn't seem to be looking for a fight.
"So, grim reaper, do you have a name, or should I just call you 'Thirteen'?"
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Usari's wings twitched a bit at his side, his teeth slowly sliding back to their dulled, human state. The clapping caught him completely by surprise, the body accompanying the noise causing him to go rigid with shock. Clyde had said he cleared the place, and Clyde's specialty was as a sensitive. To say that the presence of this smug blonde left him shocked was an understatement. He felt Clyde subconciously slide up beside him, the older demon's hands hovering just at his back. He looked up at the older man questioningly, but Clyde's facial expression was dark. He was obviously just as surprised at this intruder. He felt his horns slide back into his brow, his wings twitching in at his side before disappearing back into his flesh. This was bad. It was pretty much the single solitary rule he had to follow in his life. Don't get caught. Don't expose yourself to the public, and don't expose humans to the existance of demons. Dad's gonna be pissed. "You can call me Usari," he took his time with the words, his tone cautious as he revealed his name to the stranger. He might as well, the damage had been done.
"Usari," Clyde's tone was warning, but he didn't interfere. The older demon had always been fairly respectful of Usari's authority, despite the fact that he was technically his guardian and had raised him since his creation.
"It's okay Clyde," Usari shot back quietly, his eyes fixed on where Ciaran had stopped a few feet from them. "He knows who I am, what's the harm in giving him a name." He paused, raising his his voice a touch to indicate that he was addressing Ciaran as well. "That is, so long as he has enough balls to give a name in return."
He stepped forward and away from Clyde, motioning for the older demon to stay put as he made his way over to where Ciaran stood. The blonde man held his ground though, not so much as flinching even as Usari allowed the red to seep back from his eyes, leaving them their usual stormy blue. "You seem to have me at a disadvantage." He stated, casually crossing his arms over his chest and trying his best not to give the man a once over. Instead he forced himself to look into eyes bluer than his own, trying to figure out exactly what had him so unnerved by the other man. He wasn't one to be afraid, but this guy had him on edge. "You seem to know a bit about us, but I don't know who the hell you are."
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"Me?" The halfbreed shrugged, a look of neutrality and ease on his face. "I usually go by Ciaran, but you'll probably find a few people who've blessed me with something a little less appropriate for polite society." His grin was sharp and wicked as Usari approached; daddy's youngest, then. Collin had briefly explained to him all about Lucifer's bakers dozen of sons, their names and main strengths. Trust the war mongrel to know everything about the other side. He watched as the man reverted to his human form. And a fine form it was. The baby demons was a few inches shorter than his own 5'11", with jet black hair and blue eyes, once the red bled from them, leaving them clear and deep.
Arching one blond brow, he stood firm as Usari paused, less than a foot away. "And I suspect," he started, lowering his voice to an appropriate level for their proximity, "that you wouldn't know who the hell I am, because contrary to what my business associates might tell you, I don't actually deal with Hell. Just their minions." He smiled, one hand hooking casually into the hook that attached his shoulder strap to his bag. "You know, I think I've actually heard about you. Aren't you a big-shot in business or something?" he tilted his head back and frowned a little, trying to place him. He move had him staring down at the baby demon, his human body looked a few years younger than his own, barely out of the teen years. He himself was nearly 27, but he wouldn't place the demon at more than 24 or 25. If that. His power level was immature too. Raw and powerful yes, but just that; raw and undefined. Which meant...
"Daddy's youngest out and about huh? Just how young are you?" He murmured, frown on his face.
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Usari made a slightly offended noise at the back of his throat, crossing his arms and starring Ciaran down. "You make it sound like I'm a baby or something." He gritted out, looking a touch put off by the comment. His wariness gave way to his stubborn nature, his eyebrows raising in disbelief at Ciaran. "I'm old enough to know my way around the world." He grumbled a bit, before he finally broke eye-contact with Ciaran, gazing up and down the slightly taller man.
Wow. It was hard to keep the scowl on his face when he really got a good look at the blonde. Dude was a hottie. He bit at his lip, raking his gaze up Ciaran's firm body to his sweet face, marveling in how soft the man's features were. It made the attitude he was whipping around seem really out of place. He had a sort of bohemian librarian look about him, really the only thing missing were some wire classes to perch on his nose. He tried his best not to smile at that though, choosing instead to answer Ciaran's question directly. "I'm Usari Tarriq, I'm 21, and I happen to run the largest automotive parts business in the country." He stated, flicking his gaze back up to lock with Ciaran's.
Clyde frowned, watching Usari completely divulge his identity to this complete and total stranger> It concerned him how free Usari was with his identity. But what concerned him even more was the fact that he still couldn't read this man. And he was right in the room. Something was completely and totally blocking his energy signature. He couldn't even so much as tell whether he was human or not. And that made him very, very uncomfortable.
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Usari Tarriq... yeah, that sounded familiar. He had probably run past that name on the news and other such things. He didn't really deal with current news a lot, locked away in his library of ancient books and documents. Ciaran snorted.
"You are a baby. Twenty one? Jesus, you're practically still a teenager," he smirked. And a spoiled one, if he was reading the cocky attitude right. Feeling the itch of someone staring at him, he briefly redirected his attention to the other man in the room.
He was blindfolded and tall, taller than him at least, and looked, well, like he was a bodyguard. Except for the blindfold. His eyes widened a fraction as he looked the other man up and down. "You're a watcher." he stated with some surprise. Watchers were rare. This was the first time he had actually even seen one even. He had read about them plenty, sure, he knew they were born without eyes, contrary to their titles, and were super sensitive. Which would probably be why he was looking about ready to demand some answers as to why Ciaran was there in the first place, and how he didn't sense him. He would have let up on the shield, a total repression of his presence if a sudden loud noise of people crashing through into the clearing and a loud rough cursing filled the air.
Rolling his eyes he groaned almost soundlessly.
"Really, he sent the bozo brothers? Fuck me." He breathed, straightening and glancing towards the closed church doors.
"Well, that's my cue to GTFO." He said, stepping back from Usari and flickign his glance over the two of them. "You might want to consider vanishing as well," he turned, heading back through the doorway. He would have to go out the window, there was no way he was going to hold down in a fight and worry about keeping this mess of papers and leather intact. "Later!" He tossed back, sprinting down the hallway and into the office. He wouldn't be able to burn it, but at least he wouldn't have to deal with dumb and dumber. Launching himself over the desk, he hit the window and was out, vanishing into the thick of trees and heading back towards the city.
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Usari didn't even have time to be offended by the teenager comment, though he did splutter a bit as Ciaran booked it out of the church at top speed. The commotion outside grew louder, and he felt Clyde's hands close around his shoulders before they vanished, re-appearing in the living room at their home. They had no idea who that man had been, or why Clyde could not sense him. How the blonde had even known what a watcher was was confusing enough. They had a face, and they had a name. But that got them next to nothing.
Over the next week Usari got a couple lower level demons to check hell's records on anyone named Ciaran, but there were no traces in him in any of the public files. He was stumped. So he just tried his best to work, to push those sharp blue eyes and that soft, grinning face as far to the back of his mind as he could. He focused on his work, and within a week, he'd managed to push thoughts of that stranger aside in favour for an upcoming presentation to the board of directors. When he worked, he could avoid dwelling on unnecessary topics. Like that night in the church. He was quite content just to work and ignore the rest of the world.
Which is probably how he found himself sitting in the bistro at the base of his building, his laptop in front of him, working through yet another lunch hour. He chewed absent-mindedly at the wrap he'd ordered and nursed his fourth cup of coffee that day. He only had two days before his presentation, and he had to prepare the company's financial spread sheets for overview. Which was easy really. But tedious. And boring. And he was just about to put his face through the computer screen. But hey, work was work and money didn't grow on trees. Might as well make the best of it. He sighed, leaning back a bit and bringing his coffee to his lips, trying hard not to let his mind wander to a certain blonde who'd mysteriously vanished into the night...
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The chair across from Usari's scrapped across the floor as it was pulled out before the blond haired blue eyed mystery plopped himself down and dropped his bag on the ground beside him.
"You know, working through lunch isn't healthy. It's called 'lunch break' for a reason." He sounded amused, and set the cup of coffee he was carrying down in front of him, levelling Usari with a look that all but demanded he respond.
Okay, so he was a maybe a bit of a stalker. But seriously, why was Hell's youngest on Earth and running a business instead of down below his feet rolling around in molten lava and tortured souls? If he had been a cat, curiosity would have killed him long ago, Daren was fond of telling him. Speaking of Daren, Ciaran pulled his phone out and checked it. Nothing. He sighed and pocketed the device, taking a sip of coffee and waiting for the little tyke to stop fucking around on his computer and talk to him.
After their little run in, Ciaran had discreetly asked around and checked up on news and such relating to Usari and the company he ran. He didn't find much. Just the usual, glowing praise and amazed masses, huge financial success and great reviews of their equipment. After talking to Daren, he had uncovered that Usari and his watchdog- Clyde? If the name was correct, he craned his neck searching the floor for the tall blind demon but didn't see him.
"Where's your friend? Clyde right? I would've expected tighter security in a place like this." Oh yeah, Usari had apparently been charged with being Hell's front man on Earth. No one knew why, but it had something to do with the demons unstable power level, so the rumour went about.
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So maybe Usari did a bit of a double take when he looked up from his computer screen to find himself staring face to face with the man he had just been trying supremely hard NOT to think about. Maybe. But really, it was hard to blame him. He quickly saved his spread sheet, his hands running along the top of his laptop before he gently let the lid close. "Clyde doesn't stay with me while I'm at work." He stated, slowly, his eyes focused on the baby blues which may or may not have been haunting his dreams over the past couple nights. If he was going to be completely cliche. "I'm a big boy, I don't need to be babysat at my job."
And he really really didn't. He'd won awards for his work in business, and he was damned proud of the ship he ran. He wasn't about to have people whispering about an inability to take care of himself and his job. Clyde worked in the building, and sometimes he did a few things as Usari's stand in PA, but he didn't need the man breathing down his neck twenty four seven. He folded his hands over his laptop, watching the blonde man carefully over the table. "So, what brings you to this particular bistro today?" He asked, because really, he wasn't going to buy coincidence. No matter how hard Ciaran might try to sell it. There was a little terrified part of him which was alarmed by the fact that Ciaran seemed to be stalking him. At least in some capacity. He reached up, adjusting the fall of his tie and looking around the room a bit. No one seemed to be looking their way, which was at least a good sign. He really didn't need to appear to be doing anything sketchy during work hours. "Just out for a coffee?"
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"Hmm," Ciaran took a slow sip of coffee and smiled. "Just coffee, actually. But maybe you too," he set the cup down and sat back in his chair, eyes locked on the young demon in front of him. "This is you're office yeah? Well, the building anyway. I've seen your portfolio, its quite impressive." He said, smile of bemusement twitching at his lips indicating that Usari's portfolio wasn't the only thing he'd found.
He smirked, watching as Usari subtly scanned the room, waiting until he was done before speaking. "No need to be paranoid, batty, there's nothing I particularly want to do to you that would get me into trouble with your guardian," he sat forward again, resting one arm on the table and propping his chin on his hand. "My friends always tell me my curiosity is going to get me into trouble one day, and I might just be inclined to agree.' he murmured, knowing that they weren't likely to be overheard. Lunch time was busy, and everyone had other things to do than wonder towards the pretty blond man speaking with one of the most financially powerful men in the country.
"So, let's play twenty questions. I'll start; why are you here?" He gestured absently with his hand in the vague direction of everywhere. He meant of course, Earth.
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Usari hesitated for a moment at the question, slightly taken-aback by the heavy implication behind the words. He suddenly felt a little self-concious of the conversation. He could tell Ciaran, but he'd risk exposing his weakness to the man. And he still couldn't get a feel for what Ciaran even was. It was something so familiar, but still really different. Yet there was something just distinctly human about the man, and it was throwing Usari off. He cleared his throat, before he sighed. "Well, you'll probably figure it out eventually," he grumbled, running a hand through his dark hair. "I'm sick, so I can't stay in hell. The atmosphere eats away at me like it would an..." Angel. Usari trailed off mid sentence, realization dropping down over him like a rock. "You're an angel." He murmured, his gaze once again scanning the room around them. "You're an angel, that makes so much sense." He ran a hand over his face, before giving Ciaran a once over. "Though I've got to admit, you're not what I expected of heaven's little birdies. My dad told me that you guys were all love bombing, robe wearing ninnies."
Which Ciaran definitely was not. Even in just a t-shirt and jeans, there was something fairly sinful about this particular angel. Maybe it was just the way he spoke, low and sensual like he was flirting. The man just came off as a touch shameless. And there was still something too ridiculously human about him, something that seemed to almost taint his angelic aura.
Wait. Ciaran wasn't full bloodied. The idea lit up with a clarity in Usari's mind, before he was sent into another whirl of thought. Halfbreed angels were incredibly rare, as they were considered a blasphemy and often were discarded shortly after birth. Even those who escaped such a fate were later hunted down and captured. So how was this one existing on earth, successfully masking his presence while simultaneously flaunting around like he didn't have a care in the world.
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"Sick?" Ciaran raised his eyebrow and gave the man a quick once over. He didn't look like anything was wrong with him, and if what Ciaran had seen the other day was the norm, than he still had access to his powers. Not being able to survive the atmosphere in Hell though? How did that even happen.
Wait.
"Robe wearing ninnies?" Ciaran's voice rose to sceptical, hardly able to envision the Lord of Hell saying the word ninnies, let alone 'love bombing'. "Not that I would know really, being a half-breed means I don't spend much time up there," he said waving his hand in the vague direction of the sky. Collin had told him a few things, like that they used to be friends, he had lived in heaven, for quite a while actually, and had been Collin's personal ambassador and negotiator for a while too. Which he was inclined to believe, he could talk his way in and out of almost everything. Something Daren liked to remind him about, every now and then.
"I'm guessing you've never met an angel. Or haven't known that you have." He shrugged. "Apparently we're pretty common down here. Can find the poor saps wherever there's a wounded child or poor old man. Hospitals, are a good bet." He had met his fair share between those cold sterile walls, shining of light and forgiveness among the sea of dead dying. On the topic of hospitals;
"How'd you get sick? Though, that does explain quite a lot." Like why you're probably a spoiled brat, Ciaran thought, the cocky attitude and brash uncertain way of dealing with things indicating that he probably got whatever he wanted, when he wanted, and didn't like when that didn't happen. Fuckin' rich kids.
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"Actually the reason I'm sick is the same reason I've never met an angel." Usari gave Ciaran a weighted look, trying to resist the urge to cross his arms over his chest. He didn't want to look oppositional, but he didn't trust angels and with very good reason. "Before I was created, my energy was severely damaged inside the host. An angel attacked my father and hurt him pretty bad, so when I was born, they found out that the damage had affected me too."
He shrugged a bit, bringing his coffee back to his lips. "Why all the fascination though? Obviously I'm not the first demon you've ever met." He stated, raising a brow at Ciaran from across the table. "You just felt like creeping on me for the hell of it or...?" He was actually fairly curious as to why Ciaran had taken such an interest in him. Out of all of his brothers, he kept the lowest profile in the spiritual world. The human world, however, there was hardly a major corporation that didn't know his name. Well, his and his fathers. But he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to clue Ciaran into the fact that his father, Jordan, ran and owned the parent company to his branch.
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"You were att- your father was attacked by an angel?" Shit. Well, if someone was attacking high ranking demons- Usari's father had to be high ranking, if he was pushing out Lucifer's kids, and the only dickwad close to that ability would be...
"Asshole," he swore quietly, taking another drink of his coffee to cover his agitation. Michael was an ass. A high ranking, second hand of God, insanely powerful ass. Ciaran had run into him exactly twice. Once, just before Collin had arrived and pulled him from the church, and when he was sixteen; forced to run from the safety and security of Collin's arms. Michael was an ass, and Ciaran, from what he'd been told, had a long standing grudge against him anyway. That, and Michael wanted him as some kind of personal play toy, for some reason not even Collin had known. Setting his drink down, he was glad for the focus switch.
"Well, you're just interesting. It's not everyday you meet Hell's youngest after all. Call me a cat, but I don't really like unsolved mysteries. You were one of them until a few minutes ago." he shrugged. Usari was right, Ciaran delt with demons on a regular basis, fuck he'd lived with one for four and a half years. Daren had taken him under his wing when he was still sixteen and running from the nightmare at his back. The man had given him a place to stay while he masked his presence and went underground. Helped him to his feet and gave him a place to stay, a job to do and a very large amount of steady income. Plus, hey, breaking and entering was a great life skill wasn't it?
"You're definitely not, though, you are definitely a first something," he emphasized, still not sure exactly what that was. He didn't really deal with high ranking demons, though he had run into a few on occasion.
Okay, so he had a few clients who he had done some sketchy deals with that were high ranking demons, chilling out on Earth.
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A first something huh. Usari had to bite back the bad bad pickup lines that just rushed into his head from that sentence. He couldn't however, stop the grin from blossoming across his features. He shook his head, taking a drink of the last of his coffee before pushing the empty cup to the side. Oh god, there was just something about this man that begged to be flirted with. He resisted though, managing to quell his smile long enough to just level Ciaran with a look. "You're a lot less dickish than I expected an angel to be." He stated, thinking back to all the stories his brothers had told him of angels. "No offense intended of course, but I just thought you guys were all hateful and feathery."
Which was such a juvenile way to put it, but hey, it was accurate. He really never thought his first experience with an angel would involve stalking and flirting. Not that the stalking thing was that new. He got stalked fairly often because of his status in the world. He'd been pretty much established as a 'mafia child', mostly because no one new the truth and they needed to justify the way he was treated in the world. He held so much authority, and had so much money, and he was just barely out of his teens. It was pretty ridiculous, even by his own standards. "Did stalking me to my work happen to quench your curiosity about me?" He asked, feeling a lot more relaxed around the angel.
He probably wasn't going to tell Clyde about this encounter. Because the watcher would over-react and try and lock him away from any and all danger. Something that he tried to do fairly often, especially when it came to this kind of supernatural shit. But Ciaran didn't really seem that threatening to him. In fact, he was a touch creepy, but otherwise he was just really friendly.
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Ciaran finished his own coffee and pushed the cup out of the way on the far side of the table and shrugged. "Don't apologize, some of the biggest dicks I've ever met were angels. High ranking ones. Seems the higher you go, the bitchier you get." He shrugged, Daren called him bitchy a lot, but fuck some of those guys were real assholes. Just because they could be.
"You certainly fit the bill, Id' say," he said, hand sliding into his pocket as his cell phone vibrated against his thigh. That would be Daren. Pulling the media out, he scanned the message and repressed a sigh. "Actually, feathers have nothing to do with it," he said. Angel's weren't hateful, and it certainly had nothing to do with their wings and actually, rarely used their wings. Unless in battle, or when releasing a soul or in the presence of the Father, their wings were tucked away. So Collin said. And Daren's friend, Macks, who happened to be an angel he had run into once or twice.
"I have to say," he said standing and grabbing his cup from the table; "My curiosity is temporarily satisfied thank you, though, I'm wondering if yours isn't," he pulled his bomber on and slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder.
"But, I believe break is over, and I have to go to work," he said resting his hand briefly on Usari's shoulder as he passed. "We'll probably run into each other again," he mentioned before moving away and heading in the direction of the exit, waving as he left.
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Ciaran finished his own coffee and pushed the cup out of the way on the far side of the table and shrugged. "Don't apologize, some of the biggest dicks I've ever met were angels. High ranking ones. Seems the higher you go, the bitchier you get." He shrugged, Daren called him bitchy a lot, but fuck some of those guys were real assholes. Just because they could be.
"You certainly fit the bill, Id' say," he said, hand sliding into his pocket as his cell phone vibrated against his thigh. That would be Daren. Pulling the media out, he scanned the message and repressed a sigh. "Actually, feathers have nothing to do with it," he said. Angel's weren't hateful, and it certainly had nothing to do with their wings and actually, rarely used their wings. Unless in battle, or when releasing a soul or in the presence of the Father, their wings were tucked away. So Collin said. And Daren's friend, Macks, who happened to be an angel he had run into once or twice.
"I have to say," he said standing and grabbing his cup from the table; "My curiosity is temporarily satisfied thank you, though, I'm wondering if yours isn't," he pulled his bomber on and slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder.
"But, I believe break is over, and I have to go to work," he said resting his hand briefly on Usari's shoulder as he passed. "We'll probably run into each other again," he mentioned before moving away and heading in the direction of the exit, waving as he left.
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That was the second time that Ciaran left Usari still curious, and still wanting to know exactly who the half angel was. And no, he wasn't satisfied. He'd had a little taste of one of the most interesting people he'd ever had contact with, and for some reason, he wanted more. So this time, he found it just a little bit harder to forget about the blond bird who'd floated his way into his life. So he was a bit distracted. He did his work fine, still went to the gym, still mastered his presentations, but he would stare off into space at the dinner table, or completely zone out at his desk. All because of a certain distracting cherub. That bastard.
Despite all of the fog that this new meeting had left him with, Usari got through the rest of the week in one relative piece. He'd managed to bullshit his way through the week and it was finally Friday, which meant he could take an evening off of work, and just relax.
Which is probably why he was at the grocery store, doing one of his favourite things...picking out semi-junk food for his daily meals. Currently, he was looking at nursing a box of pizza pops for the evening. Which was possibly the most delicious thing he'd heard in a while. Mmmm pizza pops. Only thing he wasn't sure of was which kind to get, the triple cheese or the pepperoni. He held both boxes in his hand, weighing one against the other, completely consumed in the greasy dilema. Both had the potential to be delicious, but one involved murder. Tasty tasty meat murder. He smiled to himself a bit, moving to slide the pepperoni one in his cart. Sorry little piggy...or cow...or whatever the hell they put in peperoni.
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Ciaran strolled along the isles of the grocery store, every now and then tossing something in the basket he carried. Fresh vegetables and a few fruits mostly. He had everything he needed, except ice cream, so he headed towards the frozen section to collect on his cold treat and head home, ready to make dinner and chill with discovery channel and some old books that needed to be gone through. On his way however, he was confronted with the sight of none other than Usari Tarriq, holding- whaaat? Not even.
Strolling over just as Usari made to toss the pepperoni box into his cart, Ciaran reached around from behind him and snagged it.
"How about neither," he said, tossing the box back where it came from and leaning against the young demons back. "Come to my place and eat real food for a change." Wrapping his arm around Usari's shoulders, he turned the demon away from the display of instant foods and tugged him in the direction of the exit. He would have to skip the ice cream, but it was better than letting Usari in good conscious, eat that.
"Jesus, don't you have a chef or something? Why the Hell are you resorting to Pizza pops? What is wrong with you?" Ciaran asked, and glancing down and the demons face, headed off the questions.
"No I didn't stalk you here, I live close, and was in need of real food," it was honest, he actually hadn't really been looking to run into the demon. He had actually be focused on the project Daren had given him. He had studied Latin extensively in University and Daren usually came to him with translation work. It helped that he ran the library at work, so he could actually just sit in his office all day and look over whatever Daren was paying him to look at, but it was Friday and he took Friday's off. So here he was, getting groceries and offering to take one of the states most powerful CEO's home for dinner. His life was fanfuckingtastic, he had to say.
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Usari just about jumped out of his skin when Ciaran slid an arm around his shoulders and began tugging him away from his groceries. "Wait," His protests were ignored as he was marched towards the exit. "Wait, what?" He was out the door and being corralled down the street before he knew what was happening. To say that he was startled by how forward Ciaran was would be an understatement. Shocked and a little scared, probably fit the bill a bit better.
He finally managed to catch himself as they rounded a corner down the street, realizing that he had just been quite literally swept off his feet by an angel. "Whoa whoa whoa," he forced them to come to a stop, flashing Ciaran with a look that was half incredulous, half outright confused. "Did you just ask me out for dinner?"
Though, he was more being told that he was going to dinner. Which was quite ridiculous, because no one really told him what to do. Ever. And here he was being led away to lord knows where, with a man who he barely knew. Scratch that, who he didn't know at all. Coincidence or otherwise, this was just bordering on a little weird for him.
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"Well, less asked you and more very firmly nixed your idea of Pizza Pockets in favour of real food. And I didn't ask you out, since we're staying in. I'm sure your guardian will have no problem with me feeding you real food," he explained, still wanting to roll his eyes at the idea of one of the richest men in the county having a dilemma over pizza pockets. Glancing back with a raised brow he looked Usari over.
"Besides, I might not be curious anymore, but you certainly are," he smiled, adjusting his bag and waving ahead of them. "I left you with more questions than answers, and you're still interesting. I'm not far from here, you can call... Clyde if you want, but I'm pretty sure that you being twenty one and all, can make your own decisions." The look on his face was one part skeptical and one part challenging, something he was used to implying a lot in his line of work. It always worked, too. Grinning, he turned back and continued down the street, motioning Usari to follow, if he wanted. His destination was a thirty story high rise in the basic centre of downtown. It was new, and panelled almost entirely in windows, tinted semi-reflective glass giving the building a new-age, stainless and untouchable look.
"I hope you mind heights," he cautioned with amusement, digging out his keys and pushing open the lobby doors.
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Usari found himself taken aback at Ciaran's answer. He couldn't help but follow in Ciaran's footsteps, stunned into silence and ultimately lost in thought. He frowned. Was he really the curious one here? Well, Ciaran certainly was interesting. And strange. And there was so much that confused Usari about him. Like how a half-breed angel managed to walk so surely around the busy cities, when demons and angles alike would be more than happy to snuff him out. Though that wasn't the only thing that had him curious. The way that Ciaran moved, the way that he talked, his fearless, thoughtless way of just going with things. And how forward he was. It was mesmerizing. So mesmerizing that he barely even noticed where they were until Ciaran was talking about heights.
"What?" He managed, before he was led into the lobby of a high rise apartment. It was then that he realized that Ciaran was right. He wasn't going to leave. He was far too curious for that. He was hooked on a guy that he didn't even know. He subtly slipped his phone from his suit jacket, typing out a quick message for Clyde (basically a 'hey I'm out for the night, don't wait up') before quickly putting it away again. He didn't really want Ciaran seeing, not after the comment about him being old enough to make his own mind.
They moved into the elevator, going up to one of the higher level floors on the building.
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Ciaran led Usari across the deep brown and gold marble floor, worn converse making next to no sound as they approached the elevator. The door man nodded at their arrival, hitting the button to call the elevator. It didn't take long before the metal doors slid open and they stepped inside, the mirrored enclosure rumbling softly as Ciaran hit the button that would take them to the top floor.
The ride was mostly silent, Ciaran relaxed and almost lazy as the human contraption came to a stop, the number '30' flashing above the doors before they slid open quietly. The two stepped out into a warmly decorated hall; the beige and burgundy carpet beneath their feet thick and relatively plush complementing the beige walls. Neutral paintings hung every ten feet or so, and at each end of the hall sat a dark wood table holding a vase of flowers. Lighting came from small and delicate crystal chandeliers hanging from well spaced intervals, giving off a softer light than any florescent would. The overall look was kind of ritzy, but very grounding and tame compared to some places. Stopping in front of the second door on the right, (the top floor boasted only four units, each large and vaguely penthouse like) he slid his key into the lock and twisted it open. Instantly, it was easy to see the difference in style between the hall and the half-breed. While the hallway was warm and inviting, the neutral colours setting one at ease, the stark white of Ciaran's entire apartment gave a distinct minimalist impression.
Dropping his keys into the wood bowl sitting on the small table in the hallway, he ignored the closet and slid his shoes off, leaving them on the mat just inside the door.
"Well, this is home," he said waving his hand and moving further into the apartment. The back wall was lined entirely with tinted windows that held a perfect view of the sky and the busy streets below. The walls held only black and white canvas paintings or large photographs, and the living room couch was a white leather set across from a large black plasma TV held by a black wood entertainment centre. The hall to the left was lined with mirrors and more photographs, mostly scenery or city scapes and the right opened up to a kitchen and dining area, separated from the living room by a low bar that wrapped around most of the kitchen. Tossing his bag and jacket over the back of the couch, he moved to set the groceries on the counter.
"I'm not a carnivore, but I deal with demons regularly," he mentioned, pulling open the black fridge and placing various items of food on the black and white granite counter top. Gesturing towards one of the bar stools tucked beneath the bar as he started pulling out everything he wanted, he glanced at the demon.
"Ask your questions, since I've already gotten the answer to most of mine."
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Usari strolled over to where Ciaran had indicated at the counter, grabbing at the stool and pulling it out enough for him to perch casually on top of it. He was feeling a little less frazzled now that they'd stopped moving, but he was absolutely teeming with questions. He looked over at Ciaran, measuring the angel out with a level gaze. "I don't know what to think of you." He admitted, his brows furrowed as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the counter at his front. "I mean, you're a half breed, but you're not afraid to throw yourself around and casually mention it to random demon's you've just met."
He kicked his feet against the front of the counter, watching as Ciaran began pulling meat out of various cabinets and cupboards within the kitchen. "All of the half-breeds I've ever heard of have been hermits, hiding out in the wilderness." Which sort of led straight to his first issue. Which was; why the bloody hell couldn't Clyde pick this kid up? Obviously Ciaran seemed to have some fragment of control over his power. Enough to shield him, but he didn't really seem to radiate strength. There was so much grace that must have been just locked away in the blonde's body. How he managed to not only contain it all, but also suppress it enough to prevent others from feeling it was truly beyond Usari.
"Which leads me to my first question," He tilted his chin up in the palm of his hand, his eyes finding Ciaran's face as the angel moved his way around the kitchen, "how the hell did you manage to cloak yourself from a Watcher?" He asked, his brows furrowed in clear indication of how confused he was. "I mean seriously, I didn't even know that was possible. Watcher's are supposed to be able to pick up everything but the most powerful of angels. You don't really seem that big and strong to me."
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"You really need to start relying on your other senses. Just because the powers of Hell come in perfectly sized packages doesn't mean the rest of us do," Ciaran frowned at the head of lettuce in his hand and shook his head, putting it back in the fridge and shutting it. "And I didn't tell you what I was- you guessed," he reminded the demon as extracted a large pot out of one of the lower cupboards and filling it with water. "But trust me when I say I've had my fair share of problems because of my lineage," he set the pot on the stove, turning a dial and setting it to boil before picking up a knife and starting in on the vegetables.
"I haven't met any Watchers prior to your friend, so I didn't know if it would actually work or not," he shrugged. "Guess it does. It's something I've always been able to do. I don't want to be seen so I'm not." Not exactly a lie, but he wasn't just going to out with 'yeah, well just because I don't look big and strong doesn't mean I can't kick your ass'. He could- probably. But still, it wasn't the best thing to admit to Lucifer's youngest (spoiled) son that yeah, I'm actually supposed to be this super old, super powerful excommunicated angel because I did something and got myself banished. Yeah, awesome.
Snapping open a box of lasagna noodles, he dropped them into the bubbling water and turned the heat down a touch. "I'm not going to say size doesn't matter," he said, slicing mushrooms and tossing them into a bowl on the counter. "But angels don't define power in muscle mass. Actually," he thought back to Collin and some of the things he had seen that man do; "the smaller ones are usually who you want to avoid." He wasn't going to comment on the hermit mention. He was not a hermit, nor did he have seclusionist tendencies. He just wasn't overly social and thought most humans were a pain in the ass to deal with. And he liked books dammit, he didn't hide away in them. He scowled.
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