Angels of Darkness

“I’ll be back tomorrow—with a compass, if I can find one,” I said, heading for the trapdoor. “Then we can go where we like.”
    â€œI’ll be waiting for you.”
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    I spent the next three nights flying with the angel.
    I’ll be honest, I could have been dreaming for every minute of those excursions. Who sees the world from such a perspective, barely lit by moonglow, decorated with slabs of stone and stands of miniature trees and the occasional lonely flicker from an isolated homestead? None of it seemed real, not the landscape, not the motion, not the fact that I was held against an angel’s heart. And if it was not real, I might as well enjoy it, might as well let my wonder well up unimpeded, my delight spill over without reservation. I might as well drop my usual guards, cast aside cynicism and suspicion. I might as well look around me with a childlike sense of awe.
    One night we flew south, above the desert, where the sands unrolled below us as if they stretched, empty and untouched, to the end of the world itself. Once we flew west, above the uneven hump of the Caitanas with their sharp, stark points. Even I could feel the cooler air rising from their stony peaks as if exhaled by the mouth of a chilly god.
    Once we flew east, just to the edge of the ocean, where the restless waves rushed back and forth over a narrow stretch of beach, roiling the sand, then smoothing it clean. The wind was stronger here than at any other place during our travels. Corban found it harder to hold to a steady hover; instead, he was pushed in all directions by its mercurial currents. I actually found myself afraid, during a particularly energetic gust, that he would be tossed against one of the rocky overhangs or dashed into the water. I clung to his neck and cried, “Fly back toward land!” He nodded, pushed himself upward to gain altitude, and retreated from the shoreline. We decided there was no need to make that particular journey again.
    I had collected a few musical oddments from around the school—ancient, rusted bells from a festive horse bridle; something that looked like a nautical buoy; and a set of glass chimes whose connecting strings had rotted straight through—and I repaired them and set them up around the perimeter of the roof. It didn’t take much wind to set any of them in motion, and Corban agreed that these would serve to guide him home if he ever took off without me.
    â€œThough I don’t know why I would,” he said as we returned from our outing to the sea.
    â€œWell, maybe you’ll accidentally drop me some night, and you’ll have to make your way back here by yourself,” I said.
    â€œI won’t accidentally drop you,” he exclaimed. “And if I did, I’d come down to find you instead of returning here.”
    â€œWell, that’s good to know,” I said.
    I had opened the trapdoor, and enough light spilled out to let me see him shaking his head. Why can’t Moriah ever be serious? “Of course, I might throw you to the ground some night when you’re being particularly exasperating,” he said, following me down the stairs.
    â€œOh, you’d have done that long before now if you were going to,” I said cheerfully. “You’ve gotten used to me by now.”
    â€œI don’t know—does anyone really get used to you?”
    I laughed. “I’ll have to think that over.”
    â€œSo, where shall we go tomorrow night? I think we should head north again—past the mine, toward Windy Point.”
    â€œMaybe,” I said. “But the moon’s already only half full. It’s getting smaller and rising later, so it’s harder for me to see landmarks. We might have to stay close to home for a while or risk getting lost.”
    His face showed a quick frown. “If you’ve got the compass—”
    â€œWhich I also can’t see in the dark.”
    â€œWell, maybe we don’t need you to see. If we go to the mine and north from there, I think I can find my way.”
    â€œIn which case, you don’t need me anyway,” I said.
    His frown deepened. “Of course I need you,” he snapped. “I think I know where I am, but I could easily miscalculate.”
    â€œWe’ll see,” I said. “But we might have to stay close to home and fly for strength, not distance, until the moon starts waxing