A steady knock at the door broke Harpers focus from her task. Lifting her head, she let her hands fall away from her hair, abandoning the attempt to tame her dark waves. She kept her green eyes on her reflection as she called out a weak 'come in'.
The mirror reflected the entrance of her mother, stepping in to her room with an air of grace that Harper had always envied. Despite her own gifts, her ability to entrance others so easily and keep them captivated, she had always longed for a more subtle ability. To have the same effect, but with the way she moved, or her presence rather than her direct and purposeful influence.
Her gazed remained on her mother, dressed in a long, dark green gown, as she stepped up behind the chair Harper occupied. She knew with little doubt that she gained her gifts from her mother. Her dark hair, her green eyes, and her ability to control a room with little effort, were all things her mother had mastered even without the angelic influence Harper possessed. Looking at her now, she couldn't deny how much they still looked alike.
Anne's eyes roamed over her daughter, before an appreciative smile touched her lips.
"You look lovely," she praised, bringing her hands to Harpers shoulders.
"Thank you,"
"Are you almost ready?"
With a slightly dramatic sigh, Harper nodded. She had been spending the last hour preparing for the gathering that evening, and to her, it was exhausting. Her makeup was simple, barely visible as she knew Angels valued natural beauty, not Earthy enhancement. This reminder had been drilled into Harper all day long. Her dress was a long, royal blue satin sheath that hugged her curves, but was still demure. The thin straps, coupled with the gentle dip in the neckline allowed her to be sexy, without exuding sex outright. Again, something that was greatly forbidden to emphasize. All that was left was to add a gentle wave to her long, dark hair, and Harper would be ready. At least outwardly.
The expression caused Anne's smile to fall.
"I don't feel I need to remind you of the importance of this gathering," she urged, her eyes imploring Harper through their mirrored reflections. "The climate around the community is unsteady at best. We had hoped for a more positive result with the coming of the Angels, but your father fears they are not as impartial as we would hope."
Harper couldn't hold back her snort. "Of course they aren't, mother. Regardless of if they have been directly involved in the dealings with the Fallen, they know of us. I don't presume that heaven is immune to the same rumor mill tendencies that we see on Earth. They knew of us, and our reputation, even before they came here."
Anne's frown deepened, although she did not argue with Harper's words. Because, she knew, there was no denying the probability of truth behind them.
With a resigned sigh, Anne squeezed Harper's shoulders. "Nevertheless, we need to make every effort to change their opinions of us, if they have them yet at all. This gathering could be the start of that. They are unfamiliar with the ways of Earth, and this adjustment may work in our favor. Show them that it isn't always so black and white, when faced with humanity and mortality on a daily basis."
"I'm sure they don't need a party to see that, mother," Harper argued gently. "Let them spend a little time here, and it will become quite obvious. Let them come to our schools, our jobs. See that when you force those who were once Angels, like them, to effectively mingle in a world where almost everything is considered forbidden, it is almost impossible to be what we are expected to be. We are expected to be human, to live as them, but at the same time turn our backs on everything that is considered inappropriate or a sin? It is a contradiction, and one that even they wouldn't be able to live up you, I bet."
"But we would rather the exposure be under our control. Under our guidance, rather than just throwing them to the winds." Anne paused, before getting to her real motive for her visit. "Which is why we need you on your best behavior. You are, admittedly, less than strict with your ways, and this is something that is well known."
Harper snorted, rolling her eyes, as Anne continued.
"But that can also be of benefit to us all. You have such a unique gift, your ability to sway favor and attract attention the way you do. I have little doubt that the Angels will also be susceptible to this."
Harpers eyes locked on her mothers through the mirror.
"You want me to influence an Angel?" she asked, incredulous.
"No!" her mother shrieked. "If anything, we want the opposite. We don't dare repeat the mistakes of Isaiah, and start the whole mess over again. We want you to control your influence, but use your experience here on Earth. Be selective, even careful with your answers if they are to question you. Help them to understand the difficulties of being pure, while in an environment that is anything but."
Harpers expression was quizzical, forcing her mother to step to her side, turning her towards her.
"To couple with an Angel, while a Fallen, could be devastating to our redemption. It would be a repetition of the exact issue that our ancestors felt so strongly against that one took matters in to his own hands, judging Isaiah. And by others going so far as to free Aerin, so that he may flee....our track record in this area is already tumultuous. And certainly something we don't care allow to happen again. It would only emphasize our lack of control, or respect for what we are trying to return to." Anne paused, considering the topic further. "I am sure, of course, that it wont be an issue. The Angels themselves are unlikely to risk making the same errors as their own predecessors. All we ask is that you tread carefully."
Harper kept her face impassive, but her mind was anything but. She knew she was being warned. She was viewed as a weak link in her family's foolish bid to be returned to Heaven. She knew full well that if she had not been the daughter of the Lead, she would more than likely been kept away from the Angels at all costs.
But, she was Harper Caison. And therefore, she would be expected to appear as her name and status implied.
Meeting her mothers gaze evening, Harper controlled her features with well practiced skill.
"I will tread as though upon glass, mother,"
***
"This isn't so bad," Grace smiled, bringing the tall flute of pale pink liquid to her lips.
Harper shook her head lightly, a sly smile coming to her face. "Only because Samuel is here." She mocked. "And you've been eye screwing him for the last hour."
"Please. You've been eyeing Noah for the last fifteen minutes. If you forced your influence in his direction any more, you may as well just throw it at him like a baseball."
Harper giggled, almost choking on her drink. It was a fruity, almost too sweet mixture, that she was certain would taste much better if champagne were added. Of course, there was not a spot of alcohol on the premises. Not even the few hidden stashes some of the Fallen usually kept secret. Any small indiscretion or chance at discovery had been promptly removed days before.
It felt as though the entire community of the Otherworld Los Angeles compound was in this large room. The dark wood walls, with their floor to ceiling windows, elegant tapestries, and soft accents, all combined to give the Gathering hall the perfect combination of heaven and earth. The ceiling above was glass, giving a flawless and clear view of the stars above, while the floor was white marble, its hard texture mirrored against the infinite sky.
The crowd was a mixture of white suits, dark clothing, and elegant dress wear. Each member of the Fallen was dressed in their required attire, of dark suits, tailor shirts and gowns. The messengers were the epitome of a contrast in their white and gray apparel, the colors of the women all soft pastels.
Despite her every effort at subtlety, Harper could not resist letting her eyes drift towards Noah. Standing at the far opposite side of the room, he was like a beacon to her gaze. He stood at an angle, his back towards her, while the profile of his face was visible like a well cut plain. He wore the required attire of the messengers; pale gray suit, crisp and clean. The color would have washed most others out, especially when coupled with Noah's blonde hair and fair skin. But on him, it seemed to make him emit a gentle glow.
Or, that could have just been Harper's infatuation.
"Could you please stop staring," Grace muttered. "You're embarrassing me."
Reaching out to slap Grace on the arm, Harper snickered, just as her fathers voice bellowed over the soft murmur of the crowd. All eyes turned to the head of the room, as Jonathan stepped forward, backed by the stone fireplace whose flame never ceased.
"Thank you all for coming, and for providing our guests with such a wonderful greeting," he called, his voice amplified as though over a speaker. Of course, there was no need in this crowd for such human inventions. "I am certain, that in a crowd such as this, the beauties of Earth will be evident."
A soft chuckle rippled through the crowd as Jonathan paid them lip service.
"I feel it is time to formally introduce our esteemed guests. Many have been eager to make their acquaintance."
Appearing as though from the air, three figures emerged from the crowd, stepping up to Jonathan's side. Each wore pure white, of such a vibrant brilliance, Harper had never seen.
She admittedly found herself intrigued by the Angels. Despite her own feelings regarding the Fallen and their bid for redemption, she never doubted the existence of Angels. But she had also never seen one before, leaving her mind to conjure up its own interpretation.
Taking in the three men at the head of the room, she found herself surprised. They were all younger than she expected. Very stiff, and incredibly formal as they stood with their hands clasped at their backs. Their faces, while so completely different in features from each other, all wore the same expression of polite disinterest. None of them looked around to the crowd. None seemed interested in those who they had some to judge.
Taking a step forward, the center figure spoke.
"We thank you for your welcome," the Angel called, his voice a soft music to Harpers ears. She had never heard a voice so entrancing before, and she found herself hypnotized but also wary of the sound. "I am Ariel, the Lead of this council. I give you Miles," the Angel gestured to his right. "And Michael," to his left. "We wish to assure you all, our impartiality on this subject is pure. As is our intention to allow you every opportunity to redeem your Heaven rights. We wish you live among you, to learn from you, and to grow with you. And, we hope, to return as a collective to heavens gate."
A wave of applause sounded, as the Angel Ariel smiled, with a bow of his head, before stepping back in to line with the others. Harper took the opportunity to glance around, and wasn't surprised to see that the Angels obviously well rehearsed speech had played its part perfectly on the naïve and hopeful crowd. The Fallen were desperate to believe them, as the messengers were exhausted of their role. Everyone in this room, for one reason or another, wanted this issue ended.
With a step forward again, Jonathan spread his arms. "Please, enjoy yourselves."
With another round of obligatory applause, the crowds converged on the Angels. Harper couldn't stop her eyes from rolling, as each individual of the community seemed desperate for their chance to speak with the newcomers.
Turning to Grace, Harper glanced at her cousin's now empty flute.
"Want another?" she asked, reaching for the glass.
"Why not?"
Making her way through the crowd, Harper set out in search of a servant. Usually younger Fallen who are looking for credits, dressed in pale yellow, they stood out usually quite well. Except of course when Harper wanted another bloody drink.
Finally locating a small, dark skinned boy, his yellow jacket over his dark trousers, he appeared almost nervous in the crowd. He stood stalk still, the silver tray in his hands unmoving. Harper sighed with relief when she noted two remaining glasses of the pale pink liquid she and Grace had been enjoying.
Setting the empty flutes on a nearby table, Harper reached out to pluck a full glass from the tray, just as another, larger hand did the same. The moment their skin touched, it felt as though a shock surged through her body. Not a painful sensation, but one of warmth, leaving in its wake a gentle tingle.
Following the hand, to the arm, to the chest, and eventually the face of the individual, Harper fought to control her expression.
He was tall. Much taller than the majority in the room. Despite his height, he was broad, and obviously toned under the formal wear he sported. His face was angular, his eyes such a deep blue, Harper couldn't stop the foolish thought of how perfectly they matched her dress.
But it wasn't just his beauty that stunned her. It was the fact he wore the perfect, flawless white she had admired only moments before.
He was one of the Angels.
Retrieving his hand, he inclined his head.
"I apologize," he spoke, his voice deeper than Ariel's but still with the flow she had learned to expect from Angels. "Please, it is yours."
Her eyes still locked on the Angel, the one Ariel had identified as Michael, Harper blindly reached out and snatched both flutes from the tray. Almost immediately, the young boy in the yellow jacket disappeared quickly into the crowd.
Clearing her throat, Harper knew she must speak.
"Thank you," she replied, her own voice sounding harsh and gravelly in comparison to Michaels.
"You are Jonathan Caison's daughter," Michael said, his tone a statement rather than a question.
"I am," she replied, startled.
The Angels eyes fell along Harpers body, casting down her length and back to her face. She had been admired by men countless times, and yet, never had she felt so...exposed. So completely raw, as though he saw so much more than she wished to reveal. But the gaze did not feel as it usually did, when human men did the same. She did not feel on display, nor dirty. She couldn't explain why, but even though she had no doubt he was appraising her, at the same time, she knew it was not of a sexual nature.
"You look much like your mother," Michael said, offering a gentle smile. "Other than the attire, of course."
Harper balked, unsure if he had paid her a compliment, or an insult. Casting her eyes down, she couldn't stop herself from appraising herself blatantly, before meeting the Angels eyes again. She had expected him, with her reaction, to appear abashed. But he seemed completely at ease.
"Thank you?" she questioned, giving him a quizzical look.
Michael stared at her, his expression almost intense. It looked almost as though he was considering something Harper couldn't fathom. As though he was trying to decipher her, like she was a puzzle to be solved.
"You enjoy it here," he said, again a statement rather than a question.
"Excuse me?"
"Earth," he clarified. "You enjoy the ways of mortals. The parties, the informality. The indulgences."
This time, Harper knew he was judging her.
"I do," she admitted, easily forgetting the warnings of her mother. "As it is all I have ever known, I see nothing wrong with living the life I have been dealt."
The corner of Michaels lip turned up gently. "Even though it contradicts everything you are meant to be striving towards?"
Biting down on her bottom lip, Harper fought to keep her anger under control.
Who was he to judge her? Other than the fact it was his job to do just that, he knew nothing of her. He knew nothing of life on Earth, of influence and sin. It would be as if she were to return to Heaven, and immediately judge everything about his way of life, with no context or understanding.
"Well, since even the best of us have been unable to reach your lofty goals, I feel striving for such perfection exhausting. If those better than myself have been deemed unworthy, who am I to attempt to surpass them? I find it easier to accept my role, and my role here is human."
Michael, despite her well-executed sting, remained unmoved. "Who is to say you are unworthy? Or superior enough to decide to no longer take part in your goal, for that matter?"
"That is quite a contradiction," she challenged.
"One that you placed on the table," he countered.
She fought back an annoyed growl, her fingers tightening on the stems of the delicate glass flutes in her hand. She knew she could spend ages arguing with this Angel on why she felt in unnecessary to play along with the centuries old game they lived. But she felt just as strongly that nothing she said would be truly heard. He seemed to have his own views on her, and of life here. And she was going to leave him to them.
"Well, this has been enlightening," she said, not bothering to keep the snip of sarcasm from her voice. "But I must return to my cousin."
With a formal bow, Michael smiled. "Its been a pleasure, Ms Caison,"
With a soft snort, Harper met the smile.
"Likewise, Michael," she replied, before spinning on her heel and merging into the crowd. Several paces away, she couldn't stop herself from turning, her gaze tracking back through the people. She wanted to know if he was watching her retreat, even though everything in her was screaming that he was arrogant, high handed, and she shouldn't give a single damn.
Glancing over her shoulder, she looked back to where she had been standing moments before.
But Michael was gone.