Angelfire | The Whispering Wall #3

Twelve: A Beacon

The records vault in the Orthanian temple was architecturally very much to Jeorge's liking; high-vaulted ceilings with gold ribbing, softly illuminated by a line of chandeliers hanging low over a long central table. The shelves were adorned with gold embellishments carved into the wood. The floor was clean and smooth marble.

It was a shame the temple was also brimming with stuck-up turds.

In his first attempts to ascertain Lucifer's movements in the Reach, Jeorge had come to Orthan knowing that Eril – the deceased Head of House – would accept him just for the novelty of having an Angel in the temple. Lord Eril had been Harkenn's personal appointment, a rare specimen of an Orthanian who, while he shared the rest of the House's inflated sense of importance, didn't actively hate the throne for not having an Orthanian backside on it. Ethred, the next in line, currently missing, was a different case entirely, the root of the Caelumese rot inside the temple.

And the reason Jeorge was back here.

Not because anyone was kidding themselves that the baron was still here. Wherever he had been spirited away to – Jeorge strongly suspected Caelum itself – it was effective enough to keep a month of searches off his back, much to Lord Harkenn's disappointment and anger. Jeorge was here to find his evidence trail, some clue to the extent of the plans and who was involved. So far, his investigations had turned up nothing.

"Is there a specific section you wish to be shown to?" The acolyte who had been assigned as his guide hovered at his shoulder, ever invading his line of sight when all he wanted to do was admire the scenery. A spotty, snotty merchant class brat, no doubt, who thought entirely too much of himself by virtue of the cloth his cassock was cut from.

"I know where I'm going."

"With all due respect," said with all the respect a demon might show to a plea for mercy, "there are some areas here that are off limits, so if you let me know where you want to search, I will check whether..."

"I'm fairly certain his Lordship's warrant specified all-access." Jeorge scowled. His wings flicked in irritation. It was worth it just for seeing the brat jump and almost trip over his own feet in surprise. Contrary to popular belief, he had very little control over what his wings did in response to his emotions. Might as well expect someone not to blink. "I've had several of you people tailing me around here over various visits and no one else has given me any trouble."

The acolyte swallowed. "I'm just doing my duty."

And he had the audacity to look down his nose at Jeorge like he was the one being an annoying shit.

He clenched his fists, and willed his ruffled feathers smooth. He couldn't see any attempt at deception in the boy's aura; he genuinely thought it was his duty to be this irritating, and as such Jeorge had no grounds for retaliation. Harkenn had given him a second chance on very strict conditions, and Jeorge didn't intend to end up like Anara. His wings prickled just at the thought.

"I'm looking for the tax files." Even the words made him want to fall asleep, but Harkenn had been very clear that nothing was to be left unexamined, and he'd already put this job off for weeks.

"Oh. Well, uh...this way."

Not going to stop me boring myself to tears, are you? Jeorge scowled at the boy's back.

The filing room was a long antechamber branching off the main library, two long walls of shelves groaning under the weight of decades of tax files. Fortunately he didn't have to start at any date before Ethred had joined the temple, but that was still a solid three decades of records. Jeorge sighed and turned back to his guide. "Are there any in the offices?"