Angel Dust - Aurora Morgenstern (open ebook .TXT) 📗

contemplate opening the door for a minute, because god knows what could be behind it. I come to the conclusion to check if it is locked, should it not be locked it can´t be classified as intruding. One day your curiosity is going to get you in serious trouble, it did kill the cat you know I tell myself as I test the lock, to my surprise the door swings open much too effortlessly for its weight and reveals a massive library. I stare in amazement as I step into the room, the librarys ceilings are high and and features many arches and elegant pillars. Every wall is covered with shelves upon shelves of books. The floor is made out of study, hardwood planks of a dark, honey like colour and the outside windows are works of art made out of stained glass that colour the enteringlight in a dozen or more hues of brilliant colours. One of the stained glass work especially catches my attention, it is a portrait of an angel with a spear in hand, the angel himself seems to be surrounded by light and at his feet lies a slain seprent like creature. I tear my eyes from the window and take another look around myself, all around the room there are sofas and sturdy armchairs of a ruby red velvet. Along with each sofa there is a coffeetable made out of one slab of hard, raw granite that gives the room a rather masculine aura. My steps echo loudly around the room as I walk toward one of the bookcases, wondering what wonderous secrets it might contain. I don´t have an inkling of an idea as to what kind of books someone like Michael might like, war tactics maybe or something in that sort of area. I let my hand trail along a row of books, all of them in mint condition at least on the exterior, until I finally stop a red hardback has caught my attention. I lift it out of the shelf and upon closer inspection discover that the title alone is written in some unintelligible, rune like language. Disappointed I put it back in its former place and pick up the one next to it. To my great delight this one reads in golden letters upon a dark leafy green Assorted Portraits. Curiously I open the book and immediately my breath is taken away by the sheer beauty of the first picture. The first page holds a carefully sketched picture of a young woman in victorian dress sitting on a staircase reading, the artist caught all the little details up to her expression. It is evident taht his subject was unaware she was being drawn, she looks lost in her little world, mesmerized and completely drawn in by whatever she is reading. I have rarely seen anything so intensly raw and beautiful, as a mediochre artist I have a high appreciation of other people´s talents and I can tell you whoever did this is a master at his craft. I flick through the next few pages, unable to stop myself from looking at more and more of them. There is men and women and trainstations, in their gardens, playing with children. And over and over the portrait of the victorian woman, only that toward the end she has wings. Since all the portraits are done in pencil I can only assume the colour of her her and eyes but I can see from the pictures taht she si very beautiful, her hair falls in long soft curls and is done up in some of the earlier pictures like the first one. Her eyes shimmer in a certain way everytime he captured her lost in something she was doing, never looking at the artist. I can tell from the pictures that he or she must have loved this woman very much, because it is clear to me that she is indeed real. No matter how creative you are and how much imagination you have, you can´t capture someone s very soul like that unless you have really seen them. I hastily put the book back where I originally found it when i hear footsteps approaching, for some reason I don´t want Michael to know I was looking at the book, it feels like a secret I´d like to keep to myself. Off course he knows the book is here, I mean it´s his library...I just don´t want him to know that I know about it. I turn around just in time to see Michael striding into the room, I try to wipe the guilty look from my expression and fake a smile.

"So I see you have found my library, find anything interesting yet?", he asks and gives me an ever present questioning eyebrow raise.

"Not really, just browsing a bit. I only got here a couple of minutes ago. You ahve quite the impressive collection I dare say"

"Thank you, I´ve had quite some time to collect. I think the shelves over there would be so much more interesting for you, this section only holds books about battle theory and accounts of humanities greater battles. Nothing of interest to you really", he is lying but why? Maybe he doesn´t want me to see the books in this section for the same reasons I don´t want him to know I did see one of them....hmmm...could it be that he is the artist? I try and fail miserably to imagine Michael sitting there, patiently drawing the woman he loves, admiration in his eyes. No it just doesn´t fit at all. But why is he hiding the book from me then?, I think and for some mad reason I just know that it is this particular book he is hiding from me.

"What´s in the shelves over there then?", I try to not let him on how suspicious I am. He immediately walks away from the shelf and motions for me to follow him. 

"Here", he says and hands me a small leather bound book that bears a familiar title, The picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. "It´s one of my favourites and I think you might enjoy it. But be careful with it, I got Wilde himself to give me this copy so it is, allthough under a preservation spell, very old."

"Was he not surprised to have an angel ask him for a copy of his book?", I wonder out loud and Michael smiles faintly. 

"Well he may have been a little intoxicated when I asked, the next morning he simply thought he imagined it", I take the book from him and feel like he is giving me something quite special to him. I push my earlier surge of distrust to the back of my mind and smile at him.

"Thank you Michael."

"How did your lesson with Gabriel go?", he takes a seat on a smaller leather sofa while I decide to pick the sturdy, red armchair facing him. I tell him everything about my lessona nd he listens patiently as I describe the small flame I managed to conjure up. He gives me a look I can only define as a sort of pride and I feel a small surge of accomplishment well up inside me. Despite the fact that I am 21 I do still like to hear when someone is proud of me for something I have done, believe every human being enjoys praise and the feeling of having done something quite right. We sit there talking for about half an hour until Michael tells me that he is fairly tired and that I am free to do as I like with the rest of my evening. He hands me a small key to the house in case I want to go out and I can tell he is trying to show me that he trusts me. He must have listened in on my thoughts again. i roll my eyes oh so slightly but he isn´t there to see. I leave teh library and carefully close the door behind me. I decide that maybe taking a walk would be a nice idea and I do admit that I hope to run into Nathaniel again. it would be nice to have a friend in heaven and  think he´s the best candidate so far. God must have heard my prayers, because just as I leave the house I see Nathaniel sitting on the edge dreamily by himself. He turns around as he hears my footsteps and gives me a small, mysterious smile. He gets up immediately and gives me a slightly awkward hug. 

"Felice, what a pleasure to be running into you this fine evening, which is not quite as fine as you if I may remark", he makes an old fashioned bow and I can´t help but laugh.

"Do me a favour and never tyr to pick up a girl with that line!", I barely manage to get the words out amidst my laughter and he joins in. 

"No? I thought it was quite good. Well what brings you out here then?"

"I was just going on a walk, would you like to join me. If you´re not too busy making up horrendous pick up lines that is?"

"Let´s not waste anymore time then. Come on, we´ll take a shortcut this time...I don´t fancy walking all those stairs"

"But I can´t fly yet and there is no other way down, is there?", I object and look around me wondering if I possibly overlooked one.

"You could fly with me, I promise I won´t drop you", he suggests and looks at me expectantly.

"Are you sure that´s a good idea?", I´m not sure Michael would consider this a good idea at all, it´s not that I don´t trust Nathaniel but there just is a certain sense of unease.

"Worried Michael mightn´t be too happy if I flew you down? Come on where is your sense of adventure? Forbidden things are all the more fun!", what an odd choice of words for an angel, I think but he is right there is a certain thrill to the thought.

"Alright, you´ve got me convinced", I reply and he grins broadly as he steps in closer to me and puts his arms around my waist. 

"Now hold on tight", he says and I swear he must be grinning like a fool as he lifts us of the ground with a few sure flaps of his wings. The flight is short and I hardly notice it when he lands us back on the ground just outside of town. I feel oddly cold as he lets go of me and steps away. I follow him silently to the little clearing and we both sit in silence for what seems like an eternity, it´s not exactly a comfortable silence. I feel incredibly awkward, like I should say something, anything really. I shuffle uncomfortably on the grass and try to find a position in which my wings won´t get tangeled up in each other and just look at Nathaniel. His eyes are closed and he seems fully at ease with himself, less tense than earlier, he seems to be listening to the silence around him. I wonder why he enjoys it so much, I could never bear silence, I always need some sort of noise around me, absolute silence drives me mad. I associate silence with all those dreadful nights I was unable to sleep because the thoughts in my head were racing, depsite the silence there was such a nois inside my head it was next to unbearable. I prefer loud music due to that, it dorwns out the noises of my own madness. Natahniel muist have finally realised my unease, because he opens his eyes and looks at me, his eyes lingering just a second too long.

"Sorry, I just needed that. You don´t believe how dreadfully tiring my training session was today, the birds were all so chatty!", he says apologetically.

"That´s alright, I´m just not a big fan of silence. So you can talk to birds, huh?"

"Yeah, it´s my