Cultivating the Holy by Orin Drake
It's... something, alright.

        Chapter 7


        Twilight fell over them as the last song played.  They'd made minimal stops, for gas and the occasional bathroom, and hadn't found any need to eat since the feast that morning.  Eric, enjoying the use of his favored name, let silence pass for a while after the music faded out.  It was the only way to enjoy that kind of audio overload for the first time, to just sort of let it roll around in your head as wine over your tongue.
        And enjoy it she did.  She'd never even been aware that sort of thing existed... but it was such an appreciated beauty.  A beauty she knew must have existed somewhere... but not so close to humanity.  Not from what she knew of it, anyway.
        "I don't want to bother you..." the doctor started out, quietly.  His sentiment was heartfelt... but not entirely true.  He was naturally curious.  Presented with the possibilities of answers to his questions was just too hard to pass up.
        She'd suspected as much.  And, strangely, she didn't really mind.  "Go ahead."  She responded in her usual dark tone.
        He grinned with his teeth showing.  It was nice to get to know a few other aspects of her personality, anyway.  Kind of a... weird thing.  She certainly wasn't unattractive... but he didn't feel that kind of pull toward her.  Nor was it like a sibling, and not even that of a best friend.  It was almost... almost knight-like.  Defending the lady.  How... weird.  "The concept of grace..."
        She made a soft, amused sound in her throat... but didn't feel much like giving in to the humor.  "I'm afraid I don't know much of it."
        The grin slid off of his face.  "Ah."  There was a shared understanding, there.  Conditional versus unconditional, love and grace...  "Never had a pet, huh?"
        She swallowed the bitterness that threatened to spill from her tongue.  There was no need to take it out on him, after all.  "No.  We weren't allowed around animals.  They'd... react to us."  Strange thoughts, those.  There'd been a cat loose in the building she'd lived in--what a wonderful thought to be rid of that place--who had seen her once.  A creature that even approached her, it as curious as any thinking being... but it sensed her wrongness.  Her unnaturalness that she had not yet learned how to control.  At once, it loved and hated, understood and then did not understand...  Animal Control had said it suffered from a massive nervous system failure, possibly brought on by the aneurysm.  But really... it'd just been torn apart by understanding.  Animals knew.  They were a lot more sensitive to... that sort of thing than people were.  It was sheer instinct as opposed to learned logic.  "I like them, though."
        The sadness in her voice caught him a little off-guard.  "Bad experience?"
        She didn't really want to explain.  "Something like that."  It was better not explored, perhaps.  "Animals... are grace.  But humans... aren't... compassionate."  Yes, animals in the wild tore one another apart.  But humans had no need to do so... and therefore had no excuse to be cruel.
        "They aren't generally decent to one another."  He agreed, quietly.  "I can't imagine how they must react to something that they must view as... 'above them'..."
        That was funny, somehow.  Not quite enough to break the mood, but appreciated.  "You've seen enough."
        "I've seen the effects.  Never... first-hand."  He swallowed, wondering... and finding no reason why he shouldn't ask.  Even if she wasn't willing to answer.  "What... happened to you?  Exactly?"
        She shut her eyes tightly to the world with the memories.  Not that she'd ever been one full of hope... but there had been a time before...  She didn't want to remember, certainly didn't want to talk about it... but he'd asked.  Her voice was cracked, sounding raw and abused.  Softly, slowly, painfully... "I... had wings."
        His eyes widened, the car's control nearly slipping from him entirely.  He caught the wheel in his grip again, righting their path... but the mental images would not leave him--he knew immediately.  They'd taken her wings.  The bastards had taken her wings.  He made quick work of pulling the car to the side of the road, a frighteningly slow-burning rage racing through his blood.
        He turned to her, not meaning for the look of hatred in his eyes to be directed at her.  He grasped her hand, paying no attention to the cars beeping as they zoomed past due to the quick lane changes.  Nothing else existed.
        She felt... compelled.  Unable to make eye contact, but absolutely compelled to speak... to continue.  She'd never spoken to anyone about it... never had the desire to express it...  "They were broken, first... then cut..."
        He dropped her hand, too afraid that he might accidentally crush it.  Never in his life had he felt that... strongly.  About anything.  He knew she'd killed people.  And yes, maybe if the laws of spirit and man made any sense, she deserved a punishment... but that?  That?!  "Who?"
        She finally met his eyes, a delicate worry meeting his hate measure for measure.  "I don't know his name."  But she did find out rather quickly that he was an expert in torture.
        That much didn't need to be said to read it in her gaze.  He'd never been so disturbed in his life.  No amount of sick shit regarding human nature that he'd ever known about before... it just... it couldn't be so... easy...  "Do you all... have wings?"
        That's what made it worse... so much worse... and she knew he'd feel the same way.  She didn't want to answer him, tried to drop the subject entirely--but he wouldn't let her turn away.  "No.  It's... rare."
        Fire, again--insane rage.  His voice held only a hint of what was in his eyes, forcing himself to stay calm, stay coherent.  "How rare?"
        "Very rare."  She simplified, unwilling to go on.  They'd once been praised as an accomplishment, those wings... the staff had seemed very proud of themselves for having been able to breed a stable nephilim with wings.  Full, feathered, white wings.  So white that she could still see the blood on them when she closed her eyes, sometimes...
        And they were cut from her. Severed from her body.  As... punishment.  That went so far beyond making no sense...  Glad the seats weren't so far apart, the car made in the days before SUVs had decided people in the front seats needed to be separated by all kinds of unnecessary bullshit, he pulled her toward himself.  He felt every muscle of her body trembling; it was all he could do.  Offer some comfort, some safety... some real compassion.
        Embracing didn't come naturally to her.  It wasn't that she hadn't seen it happen on the street and on television.  She knew what it meant and what it could mean.  And it certainly wasn't that she couldn't enjoy the sensation of being embraced... but, when it was suddenly happening, she had no idea how to react.  Nothing about it was natural in her own experience.
        It didn't matter.  He'd more than gotten the impression she hadn't been close to anyone.  What a lonely childhood it must have been... a lonely life.  Painful, confusing...  Far worse than anything humans went through, he was certain.
        "We should get to a hotel."  She whispered, her throat stinging.  Mid-way between tears and some other unknown but potent emotional response.
        He sighed deeply... aware suddenly of the knowledge that neither of them had showered since he'd taken her away, and of the fact that her scent showed no sign of it.  Maybe he ought to apologize for that one... though it didn't ultimately seem important.  "Yeah."  He agreed, finally.  He didn't want to pull away...
        She carefully grasped his arms in show of appreciation.  It was almost a returning embrace... but she knew she'd need some practice.
        "How can you live with it?" he found his voice far softer than he thought it would turn out to be.  There was no longer any rage in his being--only peace in the idea of holding her close.
        She shook her head against his shoulder.  How could she not live with it?  She hardly remembered what wings were like... and she really didn't want to.  If she had to reflect on it, she knew it might be that much more painful.  Maybe it was... "Retribution?"
        He really hadn't wanted to laugh.  Deep inside, he wanted to stay quiet... pained... sad... but it was funny.  Undeniably funny.
 

 

        They'd found some crappy little tourist trap off the highway--with a really nice-looking hotel.  Not like it was their money, anyway.  A place with decent room service was all they needed.
        Not that the room itself was all that bad, either.  There were two smaller beds, but the general size of the space and the television sure as hell made up for it.  And... the room service.
        Charlotte looked at the menu with wide eyes.  She'd never really understood the attraction to food until the supposed doctor came along and exposed her to the most terribly unhealthy things she could imagine.
        "What are you thinking of getting?" Eric inquired teasingly.  "Personally, I'd like one of everything."
        Appreciative of the idea, she declined.  "And all that food to waste?"
        Hm.  "Well, that's true...  Maybe just one of everything I actually want, then."
        She shook her head, trying to make a choice.  Everything sounded so... different and unique and interesting.
        "Steak."  He suggested, turning the menu to see the drinks.
        Well... she shrugged the menu aside.  "Order for me.  But only one thing."
        How terribly interesting of her.  "And a drink.  You have to have a drink or three."
        Not completely understanding his meaning, she stood up and stretched.  "If you insist."
        Somehow the thought of a drunken angel (well, half-angel) was almost impossible not to giggle like a madman at.  He picked up the phone and ordered as Charlotte checked out the bathroom.
        A very nice shower waited to be found, not to mention a small but still decent hot tub.  Blissfully unaware of those connotations, she passed it up in favor of running her hands under cool water in the sink.  Water was always an attraction.
        Eric found her after ordering, taking a peek at the hot tub... and hoping she hadn't noticed.  "Food in half an hour.  But they have a Nintendo system where you pay by the hour."
        She noted his child-like glee over the mere mention of the video game system.  She'd heard of them, but never had much of a desire to experience one.  Not that she would refuse if offered, however.  "Was this really your dream?" she teased lightly, drying her hands.  He seemed more interested in joyous things than the... "professional".  The practical.
        He laughed at that.  "What, being on the run with something I'm not sure I can comprehend?"
        Leading him back into the main room, she pondered over his response.  "More along the lines of being a doctor in a clinic... but that, too."
        What an interesting conversation, already.  "Hadn't really though of it as my life... or my dream."  Kind of a strange subject to be on, he thought... but not unwelcome.  "I was an actor.  Well, I acted.  I'm not sure if I was an ac-tor..."  He saw her blank gaze and felt the strange desire to amend his statement.  "I was a drama geek."
        The words themselves didn't necessarily mean all that much to her, but the sentiment was amusing.  "You are a good actor."  She admitted, sitting on one of the beds.  She remembered all too well his attempts at concealing their conversations from the others.
        "Just a mirror..." he shrugged off.  "A... 'student of human nature' they might call it."
        She let the subject slide for a moment.  "And being a doctor?"
        "Just... happened."  He found himself simplifying a little much.  "A friend of the family suggested it.  I turned out to be good at it.  Great grades, all that."
        "No passion."  She interrupted, quietly.
        Her gaze could be piercing at times.  "Yeah.  Acting was more fun.  But it didn't pay for... anything."
        She supposed she could understand that, certainly.  Money for life... money to live...  It was the lifeblood of the world.  It wasn't quite as if pure love for something could answer all questions, remove all obstacles.
        "So tell me..." he figured it was his turn to ask the questions.  "Have you ever had a life?  At all?"
        A satisfactory way to put things.  "No.  But I watched many on television."
        The bile in his throat was too bitter to allow him to laugh.  The rage that had left him earlier in the car was starting to return.  He wondered... if there was any room in all the world, for...
        The knocking at the door made them both jump.  It was early and unexpected; not that it was unappreciated.  Eric gave her a hand motion that told her to stay while he went to the door and made a very slow sweep of the hallway outside from the peep hole in the door.  Room service, indeed.  Opening the door, he readied his wallet.
        A young man wheeled the cart inside, giving a pleasant hello and a nod to the man with the money--and stopped short when he witnessed the girl sitting on the bed.  For a reason unknown to himself, he made a messy cross over his heart and gazed upon her only a moment more before averting his eyes.
        Eric noticed, but said nothing.  He handed over a large tip--but the boy pushed it back into his hand without a word.  No need, so it seemed... and he left the cart with them as he left the room.
        An... unusual sort of thing, they both thought.  Hopefully a good sign, though...
        Charlotte was the first to move, taking a peek at what had been selected for her.  She uncovered two steak dinners with french fries and some sort of green... something or other, with two rather large pieces of what she didn't immediately recognize as cheesecake.  Underneath that, however, in the bottom of the cart, were two buckets of ice.  One held beer, and the other held several small glasses of something... red and iced.  One smell told her they contained alcohol.
        He watched her inspect... until she cast him a glance that was completely impossible to ignore.  He threw up his hands in defense.  "Strawberry daiquiris.  They're good."
        Her expression softened a little.  "That's not why I was staring at you."
        "I know."  He responded impishly.  "I'm not looking to take advantage.  Just... enjoy the night."
        "That makes me feel so much better." 


 

        The meals were greatly enjoyed--but when Charlotte discovered cheesecake... that was the beginning of the greatest taste sensation of her life.
        Eric just watched her out of the corner of his eye while she savored every, single bite.  He could not stop grinning.  Yes, it was perfect cheesecake.  Yes, the strawberry topping was clearly made from scratch.  But he'd never imagined anyone could enjoy it so much.  When at last she was done, he couldn't help but tease, "Was it good for you?"
        I want more. she somehow kept herself from crying out.  "Is this... common?"
        "Yeah."  He kept grinning.  He ate about half of his own piece... and then very subtly put the plate down, not so subtly pushing it toward her.  It's not like he was lacking in food.
        Well, if he insisted.  There was hardly a pause between when his fingers left the side of the plate and when her fork found its treasure.  She paused only long enough for a well-meaning, "Thank you."
        Shaking his head with amused disbelief, he got up to raid the drinks.  Two beers and two cups of strawberry daiquiri, one for each of them, followed him back.  "May as well give these a try while we're at it."
        She completely ignored him--until the plate was clean.  "I do hope you're not plotting anything inappropriate."
        Granted there was a devious grin playing in her features, but he felt it important to be reassuring in the moment.  "Believe it or not, I'm absolutely uninterested in pressuring you to do anything."
        ...Wait.  That didn't come out quite like he'd wanted it to...
        Luckily, she understood that much even before he'd responded.  If she hadn't seen into him enough to trust him in the beginning, she never would have talked to him in the first place.  "I will hold you to that."  She teased, glancing at the drinks in front of her.  They certainly smelled distasteful.  Though, she was feeling adventurous... clearly.
        He watched as she picked up the beer bottle, sniffing it as if it were wine--until a nearly pained expression crossed her face.  Amused, he continued to pay close attention as she chose the more pleasantly sugary drink and attempted to take a sip.
        Well.  It wasn't... so bad...  The second sip wasn't exactly any better, though.  "I think I'll have to remain sober."
        He nodded, not at all disappointed--but went for the beer, himself.  "So.  Where do you want to go?"
        What a question.  There was so much she'd never seen... so much she'd heard of and watched on television...  "Where have you never been?"
        Hm.  He thought for a while, taking a drink.  "The southwest.  The desert."
        "Let's go there, then."  She suggested easily.
        "You sure?  I obviously won't know my way around..."
        "It'll be an adventure."  She nearly managed to tease without changing her blank expression.
        He coughed a little, somewhat amazed at how nonchalant the subject was.  "Some adventure.  You know what they do to out-of-staters in small southwestern towns?"
        "No."  Blatant honesty.
        Not entirely the response he'd expected.  "Well... me either, but I bet it's not pleasant."


Content copyright Orin Drake 2011.
Use without linking back to the source makes you a dick.