“No, Adrian.” Heathren spoke coldly into the phone. “If Layla decides to continue her hunt for her Dragon elsewhere, I will not stop her nor force her to return to you first. This is Layla’s quest to re-discover what belongs to her, not yours. You will need to be satisfied that I shall advise her as best I can, and she shall make her own decisions from there.”
Heathren nodded to a few more things Adrian had to say before he finally hung up. Replacing the phone on its charging station, he lifted an eyebrow at Layla, returning to the breakfast bar. “Adrian is very protective of you, Layla Price. He knows you are his rock and his sanity. He is going to go mad for a short while, not knowing how you are or where.”
“We can’t read each other’s minds or feel each other at a distance right now, since my drakaina went into hiding.” Layla spoke quietly, her heart twisting for Adrian and Dusk and the rest of her lovers, who were probably going to hate it that they couldn’t be here for her right now.
“He is blind in the dark,” Heathren commented soberly. “And will remain so until you are able to come clean to him about what you’re feeling for Hunter.”
“I don’t know what I’m feeling for Hunter.” Layla spoke stubbornly, crossing her arms and staring the Archangel down.
“Lie to me if you must,” Heathren’s silver eyes glinted with a dark knowing, “but when we are in the ether you will be able to lie to no one, least of all yourself. Come, let us enjoy some dinner and wine. After we sup, we shall begin our first foray into the etheric realm.”
“What, no fasting?” Layla lifted an eyebrow at him.
“Do I look like a monk to you?” Heathren spoke with a dire humor now. “I amEphilohim, Layla, an Archangel; warrior, judge, and executioner in the physical realms, not a cleric. I do not need to waste my body away to access the etheric state.”
With that, Heathren turned, going to the fridge and pulling out a large cut of steak, fingerling potatoes, and asparagus. Working with the same swift precision Adrian had while cooking, he pounded the steak, then seasoned it with salt and pepper, melting a copious amount of butter in a copper-bottomed pan. In two minutes he had the steak cooking with delicious smells coming off it that seemed almost otherworldly, the asparagus cleaned and the potatoes roasting in a pan under the broiler. Wandering over rather than sit weirdly at the breakfast bar, Layla watched the Fallen Ephilohim work, impressed at his facility in the kitchen like a professional chef. As she looked on, he tossed the asparagus in with the steak and some extra butter, then nodded to a wall of red wines beside the fridge with a sleek chiller of white wines below.
“Layla. Will you please select a wine?” Heathren asked briskly as he cooked. “Anything will do, but I prefer red with steak.”
“Sure.” Moving over, Layla began looking through the reds and saw Heathren’s bottles were exquisite, nothing in his collection worth less than $1000. Her eyebrows raised as her fingers hesitated on one bottle of Château Cheval Blanc St. Émilion 1947 that she knew was upwards of $100,000.
“My collection is meant to be enjoyed, Layla Price.” Heathren commented idly as he removed the seared steak and asparagus from the pan, beginning a reduction sauce from the steak’s juices. “Do not be shy about trying what you like. I do not have trillions of dollars to spend wantonly like Adrian Rhakvir does, but I have means.”
“To afford an apartment like this, you’d have to.” Layla commented as she took out the Cheval Blanc. Moving to the windows, she stared down over the settling night, seeing a busy city downtown bustling with lights and traffic. The city below didn’t quite look like London, though Layla knew they were in the Twilight Realm version of the city. But it was far more recognizable than Julis had been to Paris, and something about that gave Layla comfort as she moved back to the kitchen, to a wine key Heathren had gotten out and two large glasses.
As he plated out their steaks, potatoes, and asparagus, he smothered everything in a generous amount of bleu cheese plus the decadent reduction sauce. As he brought the plates to a glass dining table by the windows, Layla joined him with the wine, and Heathren gestured elegantly to two seats at corners to each other. As Layla sat, Heathren did also. Swirling his wine without preamble, he took a sip – smiling in a subtly delighted way before digging into his meal.
As a deep silence stretched between them, Layla took up her wine also and examined it, then sipped. It was decadent, and for a moment she did nothing as the utterly complex and beautiful flavors of the wine rolled around her mouth like a good drink from Rake André. As her eyes finally came open, she found Heathren paused, watching her with a piercingly aware and strangely intriguing look. His silver-white eyes were pinned to her, and Layla blushed, feeling odd in his presence.
Though not in an unpleasant way.
As Heathren finally took a bite of steak from his paused fork, Layla began to eat also, some part of her still amazed that an Archangel would eat steak and drink wine. But Heathren was clearly his own creature, and as they set to once more, he watched her from time to time but said nothing. Layla found herself admiring the precision with which he did everything, and the elegance, like a combination of Adrian and Reginald. He was an intensely beautiful man, and something about his luminous skin and piercingly sensual demeanor made Layla think things likeimmortalandvampire.Taking a drink of wine, he looked up.
That small, haughty smile at his lips again.
“No, I’m not a Vampire, Ms. Price.” He chuckled. “Though Fallen Archangels and Master Vampires do share some fascinating characteristics.”
“Such as?” Layla asked, ignoring for the moment how easily he’d read her mind. She was intrigued by Heathren, the subject of Archangels not one she’d delved into much yet. Or been around much.
“Think of Archangels and Vampires as two sides of the same coin,” Heathren spoke as he pierced her with his level silver gaze, swirling his wine. “Both Master Vampires and Fallen Ephilohim initially come from sources far closer to the origins of the universe than the physical realms. Both can access the ether with ease; to teleport themselves, turn to smoke or mist, influence people, read thoughts and dreams, etcetera. When a Fallen Ephilohim goes mad, he looks very much like a Master Vampire – and kills like one. Indeed, the origin of all true Master Vampires were Ephilohim who fell and kept falling, until they believed that only fear and lust, madness and depravity were the currency of the universe. You see, the ether can be reached both ways – by Ascending into oneness, or Descending until you come full circle to the same place. Beneath all lust, viciousness, and depravity is true love, is there not? True love denied and turned dark?”
“It sounds like the Vedic paths,” Layla mused, sipping her wine thoughtfully. “The right-hand and left-hand paths to oneness. One path reaches universal attainment through becoming sublime via orthodox practices that enlighten the body and mind. While the other finds universal oneness by becoming the utmost depravity – and understanding that that, too, is holy.”
“Indeed.” Heathren lifted an eyebrow as he sipped his wine. “Where do you think the human Vedics got their information? From Fallen Archangels and Master Vampires walking among them, teaching them. Very few people choose the actual left-hand path, for it is difficult and fraught with distractions. And it is intensely dangerous for the body.”
“So which path will we be choosing when we go out to the ether?” Layla asked, curious about the strange bright-dark nature she felt in Heathren, as if he wasn’t all angel but not quite dark enough to be a vampire, either.
“Both.” He spoke simply. “The ether will show you your true self – bright or dark, it does not care. You will Ascend and Descend simultaneously, in waves. You will see your darkest nature and cower before it, and you will see your most sublime nature, and weep to understand it is inside you. Only when you achieve perfect balance will the ether truly open for you. Perfect quietude and love – loving your bright and dark selves simultaneously and eternally.”
“When do we begin?” Layla asked, feeling like the framework of it all made sense from her study of world religions in grad school and her time meditating and doing yoga, though she still had no idea what she was in for.
“We begin now.” Finished with his plate, Heathren wiped his lips with a cloth napkin, then rose from the table. Taking up the bottle of wine and his glass, gesturing for Layla to bring hers, he made for a massive fireplace inset into the far wall, surrounded by a group of white leather furniture. Settling to a large white sheepskin rug before the fire, he snapped his fingers and suddenly the logs in the hearth were ablaze with a twisting flame containing every color all at once. But it was warm, the fire actually burning the logs, and as Heathren beckoned, Layla came to a seat beside him.
Refilling her glass, Heathren refilled his also, sipping as he set the now-empty bottle aside upon a low coffee table. And then turned to face Layla as they both sipped.
“Tell me, what do you fear about me, Layla?” He asked.
“I don’t know, exactly.” Layla blinked, wondering where this was going.
