Read Online Thy Fearful Symmetry by Richard Wright - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Richard Wright
Ads: Link
destiny, and as he made his reeling way from the park towards the grumble of rush hour traffic, a walk he had made with his wife many times since coming to the city, that knowledge made him clutch at himself with glee.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ambrose went white, the strength draining from his legs and arms, and he wondered if he was going to vomit. There were those among his former colleagues, true hellspawn mostly, who delighted in vomiting almost every time they manifested to humans, but Ambrose had always found the tactic demeaning. Most of the fallen angels did. Now though, his stomach was telling him he might not have much choice.
Ignoring Calum's plea for information, he sat inelegantly down on the beaten wooden stool next to Pandora's bed, gazing at her in horrified wonder. Her long dark hair splayed across the pillow, and her full lips were pursed. Her fine eyebrows framed wide, extraordinary eyes. She was every inch the sleeping angel, lit by the cold light of the dying afternoon. Aloof, unattainable... except Ambrose had crossed that threshold and now she was his, as much as he was hers. It was such a strange, transforming passion, reshaping him moment by moment in ways that the steadfast, compassionate love he had known when he stood among the Heavenly Host never had. While that was enduring, consistent, this was a scourging fire.
Yet, for all that he loved her, she was more of a mystery to him than ever. How important could she be among the ranks of angels that God would send his greatest and mightiest to hunt her down? He thought back to that night, just three weeks previously, when he had escaped Leviathan, confessed his sins, and sought out Pandora. She was home, and she was not alone. Michael was there, torturing her to destruction, and the insanity in her eyes had hurt Ambrose in places he didn’t know he could still lay claim to. Michael. Archangel, commander of God’s armies, majestically powerful. Under ordinary circumstances, Ambrose would have been snuffed from existence.
Except, for the first time in thousands of years, he was without sin. No angel could harm a creature without sin, though Ambrose had never considered what might happen if they tried. That night he found out, as Michael went nuclear. He barely got his lover free from the wall Michael had pinned her too, barely reached the street, before the Archangel and the building exploded.
He shuddered. Leviathan and Michael were powerful beings, many links up the chain from he and Pandora. The creature that had appeared downstairs though, just metres away from where he had been watching over Pandora, was of a degree of magnitude greater even than those two. Tracing his fingers across her brow, he wished she would wake up, so that he could ask her what was going on.
He couldn't, because she wasn't asleep. As near as he could tell, she was in what human beings called a coma. It should be impossible for an angel to be in such a state. Certainly, no similar cases were recorded. Yet unconscious she remained, ever since he had pulled her from her flat.
What had Michael done to her? Piercing her delicate wings would have caused her agony at the time, but the wounds had healed. Physically, they should both be in good shape.
Except she wouldn't wake up.
Ambrose realised the priest had been silent for some time. Calum stood by the window, gazing out over the walled churchyard and the serpentine snarl of rush hour traffic queuing along the nearby road, chewing his lower lip. The young priest was not holding up well under his recent experiences, the cuts on his face and hands mirroring the slashing of his hopes and beliefs. Ambrose was half inclined to lie to him, delivering him peace of mind in part payment for the sanctuary he had offered them. Calum was an interesting character, one Ambrose would have taken a particular interest in only a short time ago. A man of the cloth, he nevertheless carried the weight of a corrupt youth around with him, ripe
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ambrose went white, the strength draining from his legs and arms, and he wondered if he was going to vomit. There were those among his former colleagues, true hellspawn mostly, who delighted in vomiting almost every time they manifested to humans, but Ambrose had always found the tactic demeaning. Most of the fallen angels did. Now though, his stomach was telling him he might not have much choice.
Ignoring Calum's plea for information, he sat inelegantly down on the beaten wooden stool next to Pandora's bed, gazing at her in horrified wonder. Her long dark hair splayed across the pillow, and her full lips were pursed. Her fine eyebrows framed wide, extraordinary eyes. She was every inch the sleeping angel, lit by the cold light of the dying afternoon. Aloof, unattainable... except Ambrose had crossed that threshold and now she was his, as much as he was hers. It was such a strange, transforming passion, reshaping him moment by moment in ways that the steadfast, compassionate love he had known when he stood among the Heavenly Host never had. While that was enduring, consistent, this was a scourging fire.
Yet, for all that he loved her, she was more of a mystery to him than ever. How important could she be among the ranks of angels that God would send his greatest and mightiest to hunt her down? He thought back to that night, just three weeks previously, when he had escaped Leviathan, confessed his sins, and sought out Pandora. She was home, and she was not alone. Michael was there, torturing her to destruction, and the insanity in her eyes had hurt Ambrose in places he didn’t know he could still lay claim to. Michael. Archangel, commander of God’s armies, majestically powerful. Under ordinary circumstances, Ambrose would have been snuffed from existence.
Except, for the first time in thousands of years, he was without sin. No angel could harm a creature without sin, though Ambrose had never considered what might happen if they tried. That night he found out, as Michael went nuclear. He barely got his lover free from the wall Michael had pinned her too, barely reached the street, before the Archangel and the building exploded.
He shuddered. Leviathan and Michael were powerful beings, many links up the chain from he and Pandora. The creature that had appeared downstairs though, just metres away from where he had been watching over Pandora, was of a degree of magnitude greater even than those two. Tracing his fingers across her brow, he wished she would wake up, so that he could ask her what was going on.
He couldn't, because she wasn't asleep. As near as he could tell, she was in what human beings called a coma. It should be impossible for an angel to be in such a state. Certainly, no similar cases were recorded. Yet unconscious she remained, ever since he had pulled her from her flat.
What had Michael done to her? Piercing her delicate wings would have caused her agony at the time, but the wounds had healed. Physically, they should both be in good shape.
Except she wouldn't wake up.
Ambrose realised the priest had been silent for some time. Calum stood by the window, gazing out over the walled churchyard and the serpentine snarl of rush hour traffic queuing along the nearby road, chewing his lower lip. The young priest was not holding up well under his recent experiences, the cuts on his face and hands mirroring the slashing of his hopes and beliefs. Ambrose was half inclined to lie to him, delivering him peace of mind in part payment for the sanctuary he had offered them. Calum was an interesting character, one Ambrose would have taken a particular interest in only a short time ago. A man of the cloth, he nevertheless carried the weight of a corrupt youth around with him, ripe
Similar Books
