The story of the FALLEN

The loud trumping music from the speakers is grating on his nerves. He has no taste for techno or the strobing lights and lasers. He would never have set foot in this place, if not for Nakir. Finding his friend in this sea of gyrating bodies, split level party house, four different dance floors, and five bars, is close to impossible. The sea of bodies parts for him and he scans the crowd for his friend. He has never seen Nakir wear anything but black and everyone here is dressed in bright neon colours.

So, where the hell is he? Even though Nakir should stand out from the crowd, the angel of death has the uncanny ability to blend in.

Not so much for Zack. He is here all of five minutes and five girls and three men offered themselves to him. Have humans no shame? Where is this world going to? Even Sodom was not so depraved and it fell. Besides, this is supposed to be a dance club, not a whorehouse. He slips from the grasps of a barely dressed woman, at least he thinks it's a woman. Sometimes he can't tell. He tries to concentrate on the hum of the Angelic blood, but the constant vibrations of the low tone bass speakers are interfering with his powers. This would be a perfect den for the demons, if they wouldn't loath the music as much as he does.

His luck turns on the second floor and he spots Nakir by the wall. A smirk forms on his face, because his friend is buried under the willing bodies of two women. Objectively, Nakir is gorgeous. He is tall, muscular, with dark complexion and almost black eyes. His Persian descent makes him just exotic enough for everyone to like him. His black hair is a mess, because the women are running their fingers through it. He decides to give him a few more minutes of pleasure, before he drags him from the club. They have work to do and they're running out of night.

Zack strolls to the bar and orders a vodka. Top shelf, because he doesn't sully his body with the cheap stuff. JCB or Beluga are his brands, all the rest is for humans. He tries to tone out the music, for his sanity's sake, but also to hear Nakir. The bastard is balls deep into it. If he could, he would crawl inside the woman he's fucking. At least he's trying to, by the sounds the woman is making. She is practically screaming by now. The other girl is not far behind so that means Nakir has his hands occupied as well. Careless! He glances at the watch on his wrist and downs the rest of his vodka, the time is up.

"Niki! Time to go!" Zack shouts as he closes in on Nakir.

"Spoilsport." Nakir grunts and extracts himself from the tangle of limbs.

"I did give you enough time to finish." Zack smirks at him.

"Yeah." Nakir chuckles. He straightens his coat and zips up his fly. "I saw you standing by the bar. Would it kill you to loosen up?"

"Your hair is a mess." Zack points to his friend's head. He doesn't understand what Nakir sees in these humans. They are so short lived and fragile.

"Will I see you again?" One of the girls drawls and runs her hands down Nakir's black shirt.

"Not, if you're lucky." Nakir smiles. He lets the girl go and walks away all casually.

Zack follows Nakir out of the club. He knows it's pointless to try and have a conversation in here. Shouting their secrets is not advisable, you never know who else is around. The demons are not the only ones trying to get their dirty paws on the angels. He just hopes the girls have a better time hunting in the park. It's been a while since the last witch was brave enough to go up against them, but you never know. There's been a surge in demonic activity, so maybe the witches have cooked up something new. Or is there a new player on the field?

"What's up? Why'd you have to drag me out?" Nakir turns on him the moment the door slams shut behind Zack.

"Chill! Aren't you supposed to be relaxed after sex?" Zack asks. "We have a meeting with Father Angus. Did you forget?"

"Hm? Must have slipped my mind." Nakir shrugs. "What does Opus Dei want?"

"Can you show some more contempt? Please hold back with the priest when we see him." Zack shakes his head.

"Must I?" Nakir asks and the sarcasm is dripping like venom from his words.

"Can you behave for half an hour? He's got something I want." Zack tells him.

"Zachariel? Why are we even talking with them? We don't need them. At least the Knights Templar were of some use on the battlefield." Nakir scoffs.

Zack does understand the man's reserve. He doesn't like the policy of Opus Dei, either. But they give them good information, even if they never get their hands dirty. The Jesuits would be better, but he still hasn't gotten any word from Rome on the contact here in London. Last he heard, his good friend Romano died of old age. Did he appoint a successor? Do they even have a liaison in the order? Maybe he should just drop in on the Jesuit house and see what's going on? Oxford is not that far away.

"Where are Tammy and Layla?" Niki asks him.

"Holland park. Following up on a lead about demon activity." Zack tells him.

"They get to have all the fun." Niki grunts.

"I share your dislike for Opus Dei, I just don't show it to their faces. Let's hear them out." Zack whispers. He knows Niki won't have any trouble hearing him, but nobody else will.The meeting point is close, he doesn't want to be overheard, if Father Angus is early by any chance.

Half an hour later, they are still alone at the south gate of the park. Father Angus is nowhere to be seen and he's not answering his phone either. Zack is starting to get agitated and the righteous smirk on Niki's face is only pissing him off.

"I mean, five minutes late, I could understand, but this is ridiculous." Niki scoffs. He buffed his nails to high shine on the leather belt he normally uses for his blades.

"He never stood me up before. I don't get it. Why set up a meeting, if you don't come?" Zack frowns. He tries to call the priest again and gets no answer.

"Hey guys. All clear in the park." Layla saunters up to them. The petit blond is covered in demon blood and smiles like crazy.

"At least someone had fun." Niki scoffs again. His perpetual bad mood is starting to rub off on Zack.

"Where's Tammy?" He asks while looking around.

"Relax. She's up there." Layla points him in the direction of the nearest roof. "We saw a new one, it had wings."

"Past tense?" Zack inquires of her.

"Dead as a nail." Tamiel laughs as she lands in front of him. She is dressed in her usual leather mini skirt and a top that is mostly a bra with a belt that holds her quiver. She does this on purpose, because she knows he is bothered by that much naked skin.

"We got stood up by that damn priest. I told you we can't trust Opus Dei." Niki scoffs.

"Well, I'll keep calling. We need that book on demons." Zack responds with a growl: "Let's just go home. I can bust the priest's balls some other day."

"Fine by me. I need a bath." Layla winks at him and spreads her wings. Walking is out of an option. Even in London you can't walk around covered in blood and expect that nobody would notice. The few streets they have to fly to get home is no big deal. The weather here is a perfect cover of clouds or fog every time.

Landing softly on their rooftop terrace on St. Ann's road, each of them takes refuge in hers or his room. The penthouse is big enough to stay out of each other's way most of the time. And if that's not enough, they have two floors and the gym downstairs. It's a perfect cover and a good training ground. Teaching martial arts and self defence classes during the day gives them enough exercise to go out and hunt demons during the night. And Zack can sleep better if he has the feeling that he's doing something good for the humans.

There will be no sleep. He is pacing his room and wondering why Father Angus would stand him up? The relationship they have is fragile and mostly one way, but why agree to help and then back out? Sometimes he just doesn't understand humans. He expected more from someone that claims to be a 'man of God'. He tries the priest's phone one more time and waits for it to stop ringing. Did something happen? Did the priest lose his phone?

"Hello? This is detective Holland speaking. Who are you?" The answer floors Zachariel. A detective answering a priest's phone?

"Oh. Sorry. I'm Zack Israel. I had an appointment with Father Angus tonight." Zack responds. "I thought he stood me up, but I guess I was wrong."

"Yeah. Where were you supposed to meet?" The detective asks.

"South side of Holland park." He says, "What happened?"

"Sorry to inform you, the Father is dead. Were you close?" The detective tells him.

"No. Casual acquaintance. He had a book I wanted to borrow. Their library is extensive." Zack tells the detective the truth.

"I see. Where were you around nine, this evening?" Detective Holland asks.

"I'd rather not say, but I guess it's important." Zack grunts. "I had to go get my friend from a club. I was at the Blue Lagoon."

"I have to check that out. Any witnesses?" The detective inquires.

"Bartender on the second floor. I had JCB Vodka." Zack scoffs. "Don't make it public that I was there."

"All right." The detective laughs. "It doesn't go with the image of a martial arts instructor. I checked you out. I'll call you for more information, if I need to."

"Sure. You know where to find me." Zack responds.

This day just turned stranger and stranger. A new type of demons, a dead priest and an overeager detective. What's next? He can as well go brew some coffee, because sleep is out of question tonight. Zack can hear the water running in Layla's suite and the loud music from Niki's. If he wouldn't insist on them sharing one kitchen, he would never see them outside of work. He likes to have his best friends close, they're all he's got.

"Wallowing in self pity is not your style. What's up?" Tammy asks him. He didn't even see her sitting in the dark kitchen, but he can smell the coffee now.

"The priest is dead. Murdered, I presume, but the detective didn't tell me that." He answers her while he pours the coffee.

"Oh. What will we do now? We are officially without a liaison." She inquires.

"A visit to the Jesuits is in order. The Opus Dei was a dead end." Zack shrugs.

"Nice pun." Tammy laughs. "Want me to come with you?"

"The priest got murdered? Ha, ha, ha!" Nakir laughs at breakfast. "This calls for a celebration, but I have a class to teach."

"I still don't understand your sense of humour." Zack looks over the table at Nakir. At least Tammy refrained from snarky remarks. She seems to be lost in her thoughts.

"What's there to understand? A useless priest is dead." Nakir shrugs. "But come on. What did you expect? They die sooner or later."

"I expected to get a book. I gave up on humans being anything other than errand boys. We protect them and that's it." Zack sighs. There was a time he held humankind in high regard. His fascination with them died at the end of the last crusade. They still fight wars in the name of God who just doesn't care. When will they realise that they can't win?

"Get out of your head. Thinking like that will only make you miserable." Layla nudges him under the table.

"Stop listening to my thoughts." He growls at her.

"Gowling? Seriously? You need to get laid." She responds and flicks him off. "My class starts in five minutes. Would love to stay and chat, but the guys are so cute when they try to beat me."

"Wait for me!" Nakir shouts and runs after her. Those two would make a perfect couple, but they see each other as siblings. It would erase all of Zack's problems with finding Nakir in the dubious joints all over London. He wouldn't have to go far to find him.

"You know that's not going to happen?" Tammy asks him.

"What?" He looks at her. Can he make his mind blank? What is with his crew today? Are all of them up in his head?

"You are so obvious, I don't even have to read your mind. Don't you think we all know that? Those two would be perfect, if they could get over the fact they are not related in any way." Tammy chuckles.

"Yeah. You can go look for Nakir next time, I think my ears are still ringing." He sighs.

"The Blue Lagoon? I hate techno." She shakes her head.

The ride to Oxford cheers him up a bit. The wind is blowing through his hair and the freedom he feels while riding a motorcycle is elevating. It's the closest to flying humans can get. He understands the fascination of bikes perfectly. They all share this passion. Between the four of them, they own ten different bikes. The Harley he chose today is his favourite, but the Honda Tammy is riding is close second. They have come a long way since horses.

"Where are we going?" Tammy asks him over the bluetooth that connects their phones and wireless earpiece.

"The Jesuit house is just outside of the University complex. They are mostly teachers now. Some researchers, too. That's who we're here to see. Father Simon is a research historian." Zack answers.

"This should be interesting. How did you hear about the guy?" Tammy drawls.

"Last time I spoke to Romano, Simon came up in our conversation. I'm just following a hunch, so hope for the best." He tells her.

They park their bikes out front with the row of black VW sedans. Guess the Jesuits have a car code, since they never had to observe a dress code like the other orders of monks. Or maybe they just got them cheap? Who knows? Zack shrugs the thought away and walks up the stairs to ring the bell. Direct approach is best for this. He is not in the mood to play hide and seek.

"Em? Are you lost?" The young priest asks them when he opens the door.

"No. We are here to see Father Simon, research historian?" Zack answers. "Could you be kind enough to point us in the right direction?"

"Sure. You can find him at the main library, history section. He's about yay tall, blond and wears glasses." The priest answers and indicates a hight slightly smaller than himself. "He'll probably be surrounded by books."

"Thank you so much." Zack smiles. "Which of the buildings is the library?"

"You are looking for the Bodleian Library. It's a huge round building with a dome on top." The young guy smiles. "Give me a second, I'll get you a campus map."

Map in hand and Tammy on his tail, he sets out to find this elusive father Simon. The campus is alive with students of all ages. Navigating the map seems easy enough, but he soon finds out the campus could rival a large city. He suddenly has no idea where they are. Should they turn left or go straight ahead? Maybe he should just ask?

"Hey! Sorry. We need help finding the Bodleian Library." Zack stops one of the students.

"Straight ahead, turn left on the second passing and you'll bump into it. Only the main door is unlocked, so you'll have to walk around." The guy smiles and runs off.

"That was helpful." Tammy shrugs. "I still don't see a reason we're walking."

"Too many people around. Someone might be observant of what's flying overhead." He answers her.

"Good point. I tend to forget they do look up on occasion." She laughs.

The library is impressive. They both stand in front of it, gapping for a second. It can rival the buildings of old Alexandria. Too bad that extensive knowledge was lost when it burned down. It was a delight to walk the long rows of shelves and look through scrolls in search of ancient texts.

"Alexandria." They whisper in unison and chuckle.

"Let's go find this priest of yours, before I grow roots here." Tammy grabs his hand and drags him up the stairs. The lobby or reading/ sitting area is equally impressive. She marches over to a lady that wears a name tag and whispers to her: "We are looking for Father Simon, historian. We were told he's here somewhere."

"Top floor. You should find him there." The lady whispers back.

The stairs to the top are equally impressive. This whole place is, really. Maybe he can come here more often and just browse the shelves? That is a thought for another day. Zack thinks he sees the right man on the end of the corridor. The man stands next to a trolley full of books and he seems deep in thought. He is blond, wears glasses and is the right height. Hopefully, he is the right man. He has some explaining to do.

"Are you Father Simon?" Tammy beats him to it.

"Yes?" The man draws out the word into a question.

"Great." Zack smiles. He glances around to see that they're alone up here. "My name is Zachariel, this is Tamiel."

"Oh Lord!" Father Simon exclaims and promptly clamps a hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for yelling in the library?" Tammy whispers.

"We can't talk here." Father Simon tells them and touches Zack's chest. "Oh. You're real."

"What did you think I was? A ghost?" Zack inquires. He is perplexed by the priest's behaviour. What is going on? What does the guy know?

"Nothing, nothing." Father Simon whispers. "We have to go back to the Jesuit house, It's safer there."

"Safer for whom?" Zack inquires. The man is acting strange and he doesn't like it.

"For me. Holy ground and all." Father Simon whispers as he leads them out of the library at a fast pace.

"I think you have some explaining to do, Father. We're not vampires, holy ground does not affect us." Tammy drawls.

"Oh, hush, Tammy. Don't you see he's scared witless?" Zack chuckles. The priest is hurrying along like the devil is chasing him and not two angels. Makes Zack wonder what is really going on.

"Come in." Father Simon beckons them inside the Jesuit house. "Let me just get something from my room."

"Sure." Zack nods. They are left waiting in the hall while Father Simon vanishes into the third room on the left. The house is not adorned in any way, the blank walls are a bit weird to him, but hey, to each his own. He just doesn't like blank walls.

"We can talk downstairs. It's secured. No windows." Father Simon tells them and opens another door that hides the stairs to the basement.

"What are you not telling us?" Zack inquires. He trapped the priest in between Tammy and himself. No funny business here, he always has her back.

"Oh, nice! A private gym that no one is using." Tammy exclaims as she flicks on the light switch at the end of the stairs. The large room that comes into light has a wooden floor and old unused gym equipment stacked in one corner.

"I'm so sorry." Father Simon repeats. "I thought Father Romano was messing with me, and then he died."

"Huh?" Tammy looks the priest over. "I have known Father Romano for a long time. He was not a joking kind."

"Well...how would you take this then?" Father Simon shows them a letter and a few old photographs.

"So, he wrote to you? Did he appoint you as our next liaison and you did nothing?" Zack growls at the priest.

"Zack! Chill!" Tammy pushes him back. "He's not the enemy. He's just confused."

"Liaison to angels, who battle demons and witches? This thing reads like a fantasy novel. I admit I didn't take it seriously." Father Simon says.

"Do you want proof? I can show you." Tammy smiles at the priest. Oh, Lord! This is so not going well, but at least there are no windows.

"You'll show me a demon?" Father Simon whispers. The man is scared out of his mind, it seems. Well, he's clearly not thinking.

"No. She'll show you her angel wings!" Zack shakes his head. "And you claim to be a scholar with how many PhD's? Where would we even get a demon in broad daylight?"

Tamiel laughs and snickers, but she steps back from the priest and lets her wings unfold. The magic behind them lets the wings through clothes without ripping anything apart. Her midnight black wings shine almost blue in the fluorescent light of the naked lightbulbs. She is formidable, even without her armour. Just her wings and bow could make a man quake in fear. Zack glances at the priest, because it's his reaction that matters. Zack has seen Tammy's wings way too often in the line of their long life together.

"Oh...My...God." Father Simon whispers. He is shaking and it looks like he will collapse at any moment. The man is staring at Tammy like she is the single most important thing in life. Objectively, she's beautiful, but Zack is not impressed anymore by her black wings.

"Nah." Tammy laughs. "Just an angel. A low ranking one, even. Zachariel is more impressive, but getting him to do anything he doesn't like is close to impossible."

"Zachariel is the name of an archangel." Father Simon whispers. He stopped shaking, but he is yet to find his voice. Or the courage to look away from Tammy.

"That's grumpy over there. All proper manners and stuff." Tammy smirks.

"Enough!" Zack orders. She does as she wishes most of the time, but this time she actually shuts up. "If you ever see my wings, you better be on death bed or very close to getting murdered. That's the only exception."

"I understand." Father Simon nods. "What am I supposed to do? As your liaison?"

"You find things for us. Books, mostly. If you hear of unusual activity, you call us. If there is something hard to explain about a dead person, you call us." Zack tells him. "You are basically our secretary and researcher."

"Oh. I can do that." Father Simon says. The colour is back in his cheeks and it seems as if they will have a cooperation after all. Opus Dei was a waste of time, the Jesuit's are much more pragmatic when it comes to weird tasks.

"Good." Zack nods. "Any old books on demons around here? We have a new breed, which is odd in itself. I want to know if it's new or just hasn't been seen in a long time."

The noises of the battle raging around him are just white noise by now. He has gotten so used to hearing the clash of swords and armour, that it doesn't phase him any more. The pristine white landscape is bathed in blood and body parts. White and black feathers are soaked in blood and there is the smell of sulphur in the air. The rifts in the fabric of time and space are opening up and swallowing his fallen comrades. The hellfire is not picky; if you're down, you burn. Doesn't matter if you're nephilim, angel or demon. Doesn't matter what side you fight on. You go down, you burn.

The fires are sprouting up everywhere he looks. He can't distinguish his friends from foes, they are all covered in blood.

He ducks a sword and meets the pointy end of an arrow. The bastard picked one up and stabbed him with it. Is there no honour in fighting? And they call themselves the righteous ones? His anger gets the best of him with this latest treachery of the heavenly soldiers. He slashes his adversary down and moves on to the next. It doesn't matter any more who you know and who you barely remember, it all comes down to the crest on your armour. What ideology you represent and which side you fight on.

With the random cries of the fallen echoing around him, Zachariel starts to think this war is in vain. They will not change anything! Nobody is actually listening to anything. They are just hacking into each other and killing the so-called foes. They are not enemies! They all represent the same thing, the same person. Their creator is the same! Why are they fighting? This whole war is fought in the name of God. Both sides are fighting for God. They are all heavenly soldiers. Some of them just want to be heard. Some of them just want there to be a small change in things.

Was he wrong to follow Lucifer? The idea is not wrong, just the representation of it. That sucks big time. All this death is unnecessary. He lost more than half of his men and it doesn't seem to be ending. The war rages on for months now. It's all just one huge, bloody battlefield. No matter where he looks, it's just death. Has it come down to who kills more of the opposite side? Have they all just lost sight of what is really important? Should he just stand down and surrender? He's so fed up with killing his own brethren, he just can't take it anymore.

"Thoughts like that will get you killed!" Lailah shouts at him and blocks an incoming blow with her own sword. She just saved his life and he feels nothing.

"Don't you think we have done enough killing? And for what? Nobody will win, we can all only lose. It's pointless!" Zachariel asks her.

"Lose or win, what matters is your life. Stay alive!" She growls at him.

He gazes after her, as she throws herself at the enemy, but he can't think of them like that any more. He reached his limit. He is only trying to stay alive. For her, for the others; his friends that might need him. Not for Lucifer. His brother initiated this war with his ideas, but he's not fighting for him. He's fighting for the idea itself. Freedom for the angels, just like the humans have. Equality for the heavenly races. Zachariel realised the fight is a diversion, he's known it for a while now. Not even once has he seen Lucifer on the battlefield. Where is he? Are they fighting his fight and he is off somewhere doing something else?

A gold pommel from a very heavy sword hits him straight between the eyes. The last thing he sees, before he loses consciousness, is the hard smirk of the Archangel Gabriel. His own brother. The bastard is enjoying this way too much.

"Wake up! Dammit!" Tammy shakes him hard. He is convinced she even hit him a few times. Why else would his shoulder hurt so damn much?

"Mmm. I'm awake. Stop hitting me." Zack mumbles. He covers his head with his arm to keep the light out of his eyes.

"You had that dream again." She states. She doesn't have to elaborate, they both know what she's referring to. "You woke everyone and half of our neighbours."

"I'm sorry. They just come randomly. I can't control my dreams." He tells her. In part that is true, he never knows what triggers his dream and where in time he will land.

"I know. I'm not a therapist, but you might want to let go of the past. These dreams will eat you up." She shakes her head. "I'll try to get some more sleep. You should too, we need it."

"Thanks, Tammy." He says to her back. At least she closed the door this time.

A glance to his clock tells him it's half past four. Way too early to be up, since he went to bed after midnight. Nobody got any sleep in such a short time. He'll have to apologise to them in the morning. Pancakes say I'm sorry better than anything he could actually say, he'll just make those. But for now, he needs to clear his mind and get some sleep. Dealing with Father Simon won't be easy, he needs to be well rested. Priests are a special breed, those who know even more so. Belief makes them good helpers, knowing that angels are real makes them dangerous. He doesn't know yet in what category Father Simon belongs, but he intends to find out, soon.

Not sleeping makes Zack cranky, but a good breakfast can cure him of that. Since he decided to make pancakes, he knows it will be great. The special recipe he got from a friend a long time ago is just the thing to lift the spirits up after a sleepless night. Fluffy, spongy, soft pancakes with blueberry sauce and whipped cream. A dash of sugar and you have perfection. On days like this he misses Heaven. They never needed sleep there. It was a harsh awakening to realise that down here, on the Earthly plane, they would have to sleep just like the humans do.

"My favourite breakfast!" Nakir exclaims. The guy is barefoot and shirtless, at least he learned to wear pants around the house. "Maybe you should have a nightmare more often?"

"Don't be a dick, Nakir!" Tammy slaps the angel of death over his head. "You could learn to make pancakes."

"So could you." Nakir shoots back. "But I'm not sure we would have a kitchen afterwards."

"Can you two please hold off on the barbs? I need sugar before I listen to this stupidity." Layla glares at them. "Thanks for the breakfast, Zack."

Heading off to Oxford after breakfast is a nice escape. He's going alone this time. He has the opportunity to clear his head and only concentrate on the road ahead. No distractions, no talking, just him and the road. A visit to Father Simon is in order. He supposedly found the book they needed. He was mumbling something about a weird language, but that has never stopped Zack before. Angels speak all languages once they come in contact with them.

He knocks on the door of the Jesuits house and waits. The weather is nice for a change, the grass is green, it's quiet around him, because the house is a bit remote from the main part of the campus. And Zack is going crazy! He is usually aware of his surroundings without cataloguing every single bird, bush or grass blade. The lack of sleep is getting to him and it's not even lunch time. Maybe he should have left that second cup of coffee and drank a juice instead? Too late now.

"I'm sorry. Who are you?" The young guy from yesterday asks him.

"I'm Zack. I'm here to see Father Simon." He answers. Irritation must be written all over his face, because the guy recoils like he was whipped.

"Oh, yes. Come in." The boy says and shows him into a semblance of a living room. At least that's what Zack thinks this place is. Chairs and side tables and a sofa. There is a bookcase, but that's all. No TV, no radio, no home bar. Maybe this room is for guests? Like a formal parlour or something? In his long experience, Jesuits are a very open and modern order, not stuck up monks. Or did something change with Father Romano's death?

"Zack? May I call you Zack?" Father Simon asks him as he enters the room through another door.

"Yes. I do prefer the short version of my name." He nods. "What is with the boy who answered the door?"

"He's new. A novice, a student." Simon answers. "Don't know if he'll stay. I think he has doubts about his calling."

"I see." Zack mumbles. Not everyone is cut out to be a Jesuit. The standards are high. "Do you have the book?"

"Yes. Do you have anyone who can read it? I admit I'm not well versed in Sumerian. I think this was transcribed sometime in the 16th century." Simon tells him.

"Just give me that." Zack beckons for the book. It looks old, but the cover is remarkably well preserved. The leather it's bound in is dyed red, the graphics on the cover are amazing, but the script is not Sumerian. Not on the cover and not inside. Whoever transcribed this did a good job, but the one who catalogued it messed up.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Simon." Zack chuckles. "This script is an early version of Aramaic. I never heard the language spoken, so I have difficulty reading it. But we are lucky, this is Nakir's domain."

"You know someone who speaks early Aramaic?" Simon looks surprised.

"Yes. Do you want to meet him? You can come with me to London." Zack offers.

"Not flying, are we?" Simon looks at him with wide eyes, but he doesn't say no.

"Close. My motorcycle is parked outside." Zack laughs. "No flying during daytime."

"Then, my answer is yes. I'm all for an adventure." Simon smiles.

"That's more like it." Zack pulls him out to the bike. "Take my helmet, I barely use it."

"Fine." Simon draws out the i. The way he's looking at the bike, makes Zack think he never touched one in his life. "About this Nakir person? What's he like?"

"Hm? More like Tammy, but deadlier. Nakir is the angel of death. He's associated with Aramaic and Zoroastrian concept of the angels Srōsh and Ātar. Obedience and fire. Unfortunately Nakir is only death now, without his brother Munkar to balance him." Zack explains. "But don't bring this up around him, you might get a first class ticket to Heaven. He's a bit touchy about his origins."

"Can't you be his balance?" Simon inquires. "I thought archangels are pure light."

"Uh... That one is hard to explain." Zack grunts. "The simple version? Not all archangels are light. There is nothing really black and white, light and dark about angels."

"I see. It will take me a lifetime to learn all this." Simon nods.

"Good. Ambition is a good incentive to stay alive. Get on the bike, we're wasting time." Zack laughs.