That last question poked at the back of Abaddon’s mind, and he answered after a moment’s pause. “I’ve been tasked to live as a human until my mission is over. This means I am vulnerable to any danger that might threaten mortals. But I trust our Lord.”
Gabriel’s slim fingers reached Abaddon’s forearm, teasing the hairs peppered there. “So you could die? And then what? You’d go back to Hell?
Abaddon didn’t want to entertain that thought, and stepped away with a heavy sensation at the back of his head. “He wouldn’t have set me up for failure. I shall succeed as long as I keep my wits about me. We have until the Demon Star aligns with Saturn—twenty-eight days, and since that is plenty of time, I don’t want the marked ones to scatter like roaches before I can get them all.”
Gabriel nodded, seeming to take it all in. “What’s the ‘Demon Star’? Why does it matter?”
Abaddon exhaled, glancing at Rogers to assess how to best move him out of here. “It’s called Algol, and as for why it matters, that’s a question for those people. They probably thought Demon Star sounded cool, or something. They will begin the next ritual when those two planets align,” he said, gesturing at the corpse. Shaking his head, he rose again and rested his hands on his hips. If the cover story were to work, the man’s car needed to disappear as well.
Gabriel chewed on his lip. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that those shitheads are so full of themselves they believe they can influence the Lord’s will by making offerings on some magical date. It’s all in vain.” He gave a dark chuckle. “All the crystals, amulets, and potions in the world wouldn’t achieve the result they want, because no mortal could ever obtain power over a high spiritual being.”
The boy swallowed but didn’t answer and instead took a wide, careful step over Rogers. “W-what do we do with him? There’s no way we can carry him to the furnace in the middle of day.”
“Let’s just take him to his car and get rid of both.”
Gabriel shook his head. “How on earth would we just ‘take’ him out in the open? Wrapped in a carpet? Father John hates technology so there’s no cameras around but this isn’t a movie— Did you have… movies? In Hell?” He stalled and glanced at Abaddon from behind the desk.
He looked out of place in the office decorated with heavy furniture and thick, dark fabrics, and his presence here made as little sense as the question. Abaddon’s mind held no answers for him.
He swallowed the dryness in his throat, confused by the realization that he had no memories beyond crawling out of the ground this morning. Surrounded by thick bushes, with the black feathers from his wings tumbled by the breeze, he had been born into this world as an empty page marked only by his goal.
“I don’t know.”
And the strange thing was that while he couldn’t recall any movie, he somehow had an understanding of what they were. As if the basic knowledge about this world had been planted in him so he could fulfill his purpose with ease.
Gabriel pulled on his hair. “If we don’t end up in jail, I could show you one. I don’t have access to many, so I just watch my favorites over and over.”
His eyes were full of curiosity, and the pink flush on his pale face reminded Abaddon of their morning shower. Because just like with movies, or imitating an accent, he couldn’t recall ever pleasuring another man, yet had known how to make Gabriel’s knees soft.
It had felt so good to give him pleasure. And if it served them both, what was the harm in doing so again?
Abaddon smiled and approached a tartan armchair, picking up a blanket resting on one of the armrests. He unfolded it and let it drop next to Rogers. “Of course. What kind of movies do you like?”
Gabriel seemed unable to find his voice for a while as he scooted on the other side of the doctor. “About paranormal things, and aliens, and spooky things, but… seeing someone dead in real life is very different,” he said, biting his lip with a frown.
“You seem quite calm about it, all in all,” Abaddon pointed out, rolling the body onto the blanket to wrap it in the woolen fabric.
Gabriel gave a nervous laugh. “Oh, I’m freaking out, but I also don’t feel remorse. Now that I know my childhood memories are real, that they lied to me, that they tortured me and killed other children… I wish I could have punched him before you broke his neck.”
When the doctor’s head rolled to the side and his foggy eyes opened, a vision as sharp as the strike of lightning went through Abaddon’s mind.