Page 9 of Uriel
Uriel—Dr. Angelstone, the freaking archangel—strides in, looking as impeccably put-together as always. Not a hair out of place, crisp white shirt under a tailored vest, polished shoes gleaming. He could be stepping into a board meeting instead of... whatever this situation is.
For a moment, we just stare at each other. The silence stretches, taut as a bowstring. I search his face for any hint of emotion—concern, maybe, or guilt at my obvious distress. But his expression remains impassive, those icy blue eyes revealing nothing.
“Ah, you’re awake,” he finally says, his tone clipped and professional. As if this is just another day at the hospital, as if I haven’t woken up in some strange Twilight Zone version of reality. “How are you feeling?”
The casual question, so at odds with the surreal situation, snaps something inside me. Anger flares, hot and bright, burning away the lingering fog of confusion.
“How am I feeling?” I repeat, my voice rising with each word. “I’m feelingkidnapped, that’s how I’m feeling! Where are we? Why did you bring me here? What the hell is going on?”
Uriel’s eyebrows shoot up, a flash of indignation crossing his face. For a split second, that perfect composure cracks, revealing something almost... human underneath. But it’s gone so quickly I might have imagined it.
“Kidnapped?” he says, and I swear I hear a note of offense in his voice. “I assure you, Ms. Thornton, I did no such thing. I merely ensured your safety during a crisis situation.”
“By whisking me away to... where exactly are we?” I gesture wildly at the window, at the impossible forest beyond.
“My private residence in the Santa Monica mountains,” he replies stiffly, as if that explains everything. “It’s designed to withstand seismic events far greater than what Los Angeles has been experiencing.”
I gape at him, struggling to process this information. “You brought me to your house? While I was unconscious?” The implications hit me all at once, and my cheeks burn with a mixture of embarrassment and outrage. “Do you have any idea how inappropriate that is?”
“What was inappropriate was the way you fainted in the middle of a crisis,” he snaps back, some of that perfect control slipping. “You’ve been unconscious for over twenty-four hours. The city is in chaos. I made a judgment call to ensure your well-being.”
“My well-being?” I sputter, torn between disbelief and growing horror. Twenty-four hours? I’ve lost an entire day? “What about my patients? The people who need help? There’s a whole city out there suffering, and you decided to play white knight and spirit me away to your... your fortress of solitude?”
Uriel’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking at the corner. When he speaks again, his voice is low, intense. “The earthquakes have stopped.”
That brings me up short. “What?”
Instead of answering, he turns to a sleek flatscreen TV mounted on the wall that I hadn’t even noticed before. With a click of a remote, the screen flickers to life. A news anchor’s grim face fills the screen, scenes of destruction playing behind her.
“...miraculous cessation of seismic activity,” the anchor is saying, her voice filled with barely contained relief. “Scientists are baffled by the sudden stop to what they’re calling ‘beehivetremors.’ While the city begins to rebuild, many are expressing gratitude for this unexpected reprieve...”
I stare at the screen, then back at Uriel. The anger drains out of me, replaced by a creeping sense of dread. “I don’t understand.”
His eyes meet mine, and for the first time, I see a flicker of uncertainty in their icy depths. It’s unsettling, seeing that crack in his usual unwavering confidence. “The quakes stopped approximately ten minutes after I brought you here,” he says slowly, as if the words pain him. “They haven’t resumed since.”
The implications of what he’s saying hit me like a ton of bricks. My knees suddenly feel weak, and I sink onto the edge of the bed. “You mean... us being together... it’s actually affecting the earthquakes?”
Uriel nods grimly. “It would appear so.”
“Oh,” I breathe, the word barely more than an exhale. My mind reels, trying to make sense of it all. The prophecy Azrael mentioned, the union between heaven and earth... it’s real. It’s happening. And somehow, impossibly, I’m at the center of it.
“Indeed,” Uriel says, and for once, he looks as lost as I feel.
We stare at each other in awkward silence, the weight of divine prophecy and global catastrophe hanging heavy between us. The enormity of it all threatens to crush me. I’m just a social worker, for God’s sake. How am I supposed to handle this?
A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat, and I clamp down on it hard. If I start laughing now, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop. Instead, I clear my throat, grasping for something, anything normal to cling to.
“So...” I say, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears. “Got any coffee in this earthquake-proof fortress of solitude?”
Uriel blinks, clearly thrown by the mundane request. Then, to my utter shock, the corner of his mouth twitches in what might almost be a smile. “I believe that can be arranged.”
As I follow him out of the room on quivering legs, I can’t shake the feeling that my life has irrevocably changed. The world I knew—with its simple problems and straightforward solutions—seems to have crumbled away, leaving... this. Whatever this is.
The hallway outside is just as opulent as the bedroom, all polished hardwood and tasteful artwork. Our footsteps echo in the silence, and I’m acutely aware of Uriel’s presence beside me. Not for the first time, I wonder what he really is beneath that human facade. How much power is contained in that perfectly tailored suit?
We descend a sweeping staircase that would look right at home in a period drama. The main floor of the house—mansion, really—is just as impressive. Soaring ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows that bring the forest inside, furniture that probably costs more than I’ll make in a lifetime.
“This place is... something else,” I murmur, unable to keep the awe from my voice.
