Sigillum ex Fatum [UNDER EDITING]

Chapter 32

When I came to, my neck and my wrists hurt. I moaned loudly. You may think that angels would be impervious to such things, but we do have physical vessels. We are flesh and blood. Heartier than humans, yes, but when someone is unconscious, hanging by their wrists by metal cuffs and chains with no other means of support, being an angel means little. I gauged I had been hanging for awhile, for when I lifted my head my neck screamed in protest.

"Oh good, he stirs."

I opened my eyes. Well, eye. Though I had no recollection of it, I must have been roughed up because my one eye wouldn't open. I could also feel what I assumed to be dried blood covering my lips and chin.

"Ah, Auriel," I croaked out, smiling. "Good to see you. Although, I would like to know who you really are."

Auriel smiled and folded his hands in front of him. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Well," I said, just as pleasantly, trying to focus on where I was hurt instead of my itching wings, "We appear to be in a dungeon, and I am not stupid. So—who are you?"

Auriel laughed, a sound like he was losing his mind. "You have been rather persistent, I will give you that. A pesky fly buzzing in my ear. How did you figure it out?"

"See," I said, struggling to my feet. My hands and wrists shrieked in pain, and then went numb. My hips hated me. My shoulders were absolutely on fire. I flexed and unflexed my hands—they would do nothing for me, feeling like numb hunks of meat that did not belong to my body. "You might have thought I had taken your explanation that Metatron was busy helping other patrons at face value. However, every day I visited you, I called out to him."

Auriel looked angry. "No you did not. I would have heard you."

I laughed. "Ah, so you must be a low-ranking demon, or an incredibly stupid one."

Auriel looked angry, nostrils flaring. I laughed some more, hoping to bide myself time to get my hands in proper working order.

"So," I taunted, "you honestly think that angels don't have their own frequency only angels can hear? It's common knowledge, really."

And suddenly Auriel was before me, the tip of a knife pressed under my chin. I could tell he was showing a considerable amount of restraint to not just drive the blade up and be done with me. I flexed my hands faster. Besides that, I showed no fear.

"So," I said, "What have you done with Metatron?"

He pushed against the blade hard enough to pierce my skin, but no further. I swallowed but made myself smile pleasantly. "You are in no position to be asking questions, seraphim."

"It's Seraphin."

He blinked. "What?"

"Seraphin. My name is Seraphin."

He cocked his head to the side.

I genuinely laughed—he was a stupid demon. "You said seraphim, but my name is Sera—"

He punched me in the face. It hurt. But I could take more. Rolling my head and licking the fresh blood from my busted lip, I looked him dead in the eyes and smiled.

"What else gave it away?"

"You stink."

"Excuse me?"

"The corruption. I'm surprised I didn't realize it sooner. I knew I smelled something, but I assumed it was from you not showering and being so feverish. Until recently I recognized the stench—it smelled like Hell."

He seemed genuinely curious. Good. My hands and arms were painfully tingling now with blood flow returning. I knew I was bound by warded shackles—I could see the runes etched into the metal. However, the less incapacitated I was the better. "Hell smells?"