Elias

Unlike the previous times, this trip wasn't an instantaneous movement from one location to another. This time, as Ramiel held him in his arms, Elias could feel they were moving at an impossible speed. Bright colours flashed. Air roared over Elias as if he stood two feet from a jet engine.

They landed with a thud that echoed throughout the valley. If not for Ramiel's iron grip, Elias would have collapsed. He struggled not to throw up. If this was what inter-continental angel-flight felt like, he preferred the twenty-hour nuisance of economy class travel with the worst-ranked airline in the world.

"It's ok, I'm still alive," said Elias once the urge to turn his stomach inside-out subsided. "You could've warned me."

Ramiel chuckled. "To what purpose? Would it have made it a better experience for you?"

"Next time I'm going to throw up on your shoes."

Elias hadn't accounted for the time difference between Australia and Italy. It had been nearly nine in the evening when he got home. Here it was the middle of the day.

But Elias was glad the sun was up. He had never been to Europe, let alone to his mother's homeland. Had they arrived in the middle of the night, he wouldn't have had the opportunity to appreciate the beauty of the landscape. The snow still gleamed on the mountain peaks, but down where Elias and Ramiel stood, spring was in full bloom. Tiny flowers of every colour carpeted the ground.

"There is nothing here. No wards, no angelic presence aside from my own," Ramiel said.

Elias shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat — the downside of life in the mountains already obvious. Being a life-long Sydneysider, the warmest coat he owned was no protection against the biting wind that rolled through the valley.

"This isn't the right place; I saw the mountains from a different angle in the vision. It's to the west of here, I think."

Ramiel motioned for Elias to lead the way and followed a few steps behind. He had exchanged the three-piece suit for a windbreaker, sneakers and a thick pair of jeans identical to those Elias wore. Both of them could have used proper hiking boots too, but it was an improvement. A man wearing a formal suit out here would inspire no less incredulity than one in a toga.

"It seems crazy that Sariel's daughter lived here two-thousand years ago. That's a hundred generations between then and now. And I bet the mountains look no different than they did back then," Elias said. "And you haven't been on Earth for longer than that. It must be disorientating."

"An angel more familiar with your world than I am provided me with a short history of the past two thousand years. Nevertheless, I concede, significant gaps yet remain."

"You should go to the theatre or something. I bet you'd be into Shakespeare."

Elias jerked to a stop. They had followed the curve of a hill for some time, seeing nothing save grass and wildflowers. Now Elias could make out a huddle of buildings in the distance. He glanced over to the twin peaks of Castor and Pollux, then swore. He should have paid more attention to the satellite images, instead of focusing on the topographic maps. The buildings mightn't have been labelled, but they were probably visible on satellite photographs.

"Why does the internet always screw you over the moment it matters?" he mumbled.

Ramiel caught up to Elias. "I was under the impression no one lived here."

"So was I. We need to get closer. From what I remember, the houses stand just about where the entrance to the cave should be."

As they drew closer, Elias' head began to throb. Humanoid figures drifted on the edge of his vision and shivers ran along his back. The shivering often meant a vision, but as Elias braced himself for the onslaught, nothing came.

"You are correct," Ramiel said. "There are wards here. More subtle ones than what you encountered before; not intended to bar angels from entry."

"Is there something to keep out humans? This place... It's like it's doing something to me."

"There is a ward that acts as a suggestion for humans to avoid the area, but it would not affect nephilim. Could this be a forewarning of a vision?"

"I don't think so. My head's killing me and that usually doesn't happen until after the vision."

"Have you ever been to a mountainous area before? It may only be altitude sickness."

"That's —"

"Maria? Maria! No, please!"

Elias whirled around. What the hell was that? Dad?

Ramiel and Elias were alone with only the flowers for company. Elias grimaced. Another echo of his father's death, nothing more.

Ramiel sighed and helped Elias down onto the grass. "You have been having more frequent visions since our last meeting, yes? The last of my blood should leave your body in approximately a week, then the frequency should be reduced."

"Can't wait," Elias muttered darkly.

After a couple of minutes, the shivers and the hazy shapes at the periphery of his vision receded. The headache, on the other hand, only grew worse. He had a feeling Ramiel's altitude sickness theory was correct. Groaning, he climbed to his feet.

"Let's keep walking. Anything to take my mind off my head," he said.

Ramiel looked dubious, but said nothing as he set off towards the houses.

When they drew closer Elias could see that all the buildings were old, though kept in good repair. The largest of them, a church judging by the belfry, appeared newly painted. Unfenced gardens with neat rows of black dirt stretched out on either side of the modest complex.

A door to one of the smaller buildings swung open. In the silence of the Alpine valley, Elias heard the door's hinges grind. A small man in a white robe emerged, carrying a bucket.

"That's a monk," Elias said. "It's a good place for a monastery, I'll give them that."

He rifled through the long shut-away memories of school Scripture classes and Sunday school from back when his mother still made the family go to church. Black robes — the Benedictine order. Brown robes — the Franciscans. Cistercians didn't even dye their robes. And white was the colour of the Carthusians. Aren't they the silent ones? This could get awkward.

The man must have noticed them. He walked towards them and raised his hand in greeting. For the lack of a better idea, Elias mirrored the gesture.

"Good day," he said. "How are you going?"

The monk cleared his throat. "Buongiorno, signori. Mi dispiace, non parlo inglese. Siete persi?"

Elias' two years of high school Italian got him only as far as the monk's first two sentences. He had no idea what the monk was asking and even if he had, he didn't know enough to reply.

"He asks if we are lost," Ramiel said.

"You understand Italian?" Elias sighed with relief. Angels had their uses after all. "Ok, tell him we're not lost, we are on a scouting trip for my university thesis. I'm researching cave systems in the area."

Ramiel paused for the long moment, then launched into a ramble of Italian. The monk set down his bucket as he listened. When Ramiel fell silent, he shook his head and in a hesitant tone said something Elias didn't catch.

"He asks us to return to our camp. Visitors without prior approval are not permitted," Ramiel translated.

"Tell him that we will and that we're not far from here. And ask him to confirm one thing: I've heard there is an entrance to a cave system situated just behind the monastery. Is that true?"

The monk's reply was terse. He picked up his bucket, which Elias could now see was filled with vegetable scraps, and clenched the handle, as if talking to the two strangers was physically painful. Elias had to wonder what his reaction, in fact, the whole monastery's reaction would be if he were to tell them that Ramiel was actually an angel.

"He says the only cave system he knows about are the crypts where they bury the dead."

Elias tapped his hand against his thigh. "This could be what we're looking for. Is there a possibility we could arrange a tour? Perhaps we can speak with the head of the monastery."

"It seems unlikely the chamber Sariel used would remain undiscovered if the monks entomb their dead in the caves."

"It was a long trip between the place where Sariel was working and the entrance. They might've never ventured deep enough. And you said yourself, there is a ward to make humans avoid the area. Ask him, Ramiel."

Ramiel didn't have to translate the monk's answer. The tone of his words made clear there was no possibility of them getting into the monastery catacombs by legitimate means. In his best ninth-grade Italian, Elias thanked the man for his trouble and wished him a good day. Ramiel added his own farewell, which brought out a small smile and a bow from the man before he retreated into the monastery garden.

"What did you say to him?"

Frowning, Ramiel glanced to the sun, which hung high above the snow-laden peaks. "Religious men like to hear that their god is watching over them."

"Is he really?"

"I doubt it," Ramiel replied with a snort.

Elias wanted to laugh. The folly of religious zealots was an easy target in the age of secularism. Yet he couldn't bring himself to do so.

"There is a god, though, isn't there?" he asked.

"There was, yes." Before Elias had a chance to properly weigh the implications of those three words, Ramiel switched the subject. "We should turn back so that it appears we are leaving. We will return in the night, when the inhabitants are asleep."

"You were in such a hurry last time. Why are you waiting now?"

"Sariel's shield has not deteriorated further after the initial weakening and the wards here appear to be intact. I believe we can wait a few hours. My orders are not to alarm humans unless it is unavoidable."

"I'm not sure about this particular monastery, but monks often wake up in the middle of the night to pray. What are we going to do, are you going to put a spell on these guys so they stay asleep?"

"I am an angel, not a wizard," Ramiel said and started back in the direction they had come from. "We shall endeavour to be quiet."

Elias was glad the angel set a slow pace; the throbbing in his head hadn't abated. Long minutes passed in silence.

"What did you mean by you doubt that God is watching?" Elias said at last.

Ramiel's expression darkened. "I meant that I doubt the Creator spends his time observing humanity."

"Do you want to expand on that?"

"I do not."

"Ok, that's fine." Elias frowned. "How about... Did you ever have children with a human?"

"If I were to have children, it would be with a human. Two angels cannot produce offspring. And yes, I was father to three."

Once the monastery slipped out of view, Ramiel and Elias found a flat area to rest in. Ramiel stretched out in the grass and watched the sky. Elias, in the meantime, played with the flowers. He wished he had brought his textbooks and study notes with him; he would've had something productive to do while they waited.

"Are your children's descendants still around?" he asked.

Shite. Are Abigail and I your descendants?

"No," Ramiel replied in a flat tone. "None of them lived to adulthood. The oldest died during a raid on their village by a rival tribe, the younger ones caught some nameless disease and died within a day of each other."

Elias winced. "I am sorry, that's awful."

"Humans die. It was hardly unexpected."

"That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, even if you are an angel. I mean, in my visions I felt Sariel's pain when his daughter died."

"I did not say an angel does not grieve. But we were brought into existence long before your world was even conceived in the Creator's mind. A thousand years may pass, or maybe five thousand years, eventually a wound does scab over," Ramiel said. "I would also caution you against assuming Sariel is archetypal of our kind."

"What do you mean?"

Ramiel's expression turned thoughtful. "Once, at a great detriment to himself, Sariel saved my life. After that, I thought I understood the depths of his empathy and compassion. However, I am now beginning to fear that what he did to protect the human world is in a different order of magnitude altogether. I do not believe any other angel would have conceived of, let alone carried out what Sariel did."