He woke up. The dreams he had were vivid and felt real. He could taste the blood and sweat; smell the fear. Witnessing his father fling him into Tiamat was jarring.
‘Wait,’ Enoch pausing; ‘I wasn't there. I wasn’t even born.’
‘My memories are your memories.’
Enoch shuddered at that last thought; after his father’s lost sword merging with him as he tried to free many demons and angels under the thrall of chaos, Enoch was flooded with scenes he could not recognize. Fragmented and disjointed, they made no sense to him. But his dream last night; seeing Tiamat emerging from beyond to undo what has been created, Enoch palled at the thought of having to face that creature. Hoping out of bed, he naturally stretches; popping muscles and joints on his upper half while his wolf half does its usual canine like stretch.
“And now I need to pee,” Enoch grumbled as he had to use a toilet not designed for taurs. Having to lift a hind leg to urinate; aiming his stream into a porcelain bowl was difficult at the best of times, using one for a number two was better left unmentioned.
‘Being a demon is so much easier,’ Enoch thought to himself as he padded his way to the bathroom; ‘no modesty, no shame, you just did your business right then and there and no one batted an eye.’
“I apologise if I made a mess,” Enoch entering the kitchen to see his uncle preparing breakfast; “toilets and I just don’t get along.”
“And a good morning to you,” Michael seeing his nephew pour himself a cup of coffee; “did you sleep well?”
“It depends,” Enoch absently opening one of his small portals to grab something; “does waking up in the middle of the night count as sleeping well?”
“I heard you shout,” Michael watching Enoch pouring an odd liquid into his coffee; “He is alive over and over again. What is that,” Michael looking at the container of weird looking syrup.
“Bloodbloom nectar,” Enoch answering; “can’t have my first cup without it. Want to try some?”
“Pass,” Michael refusing; “how do you take your eggs?”
“Cooked,” Enoch answering; still piecing together what he saw in his dreams.
“You want to talk what is on your mind,” Michael seeing his nephew in deep thought.
“Not right now,” Enoch answering; “but you need to hear what I have to say. It has to do with my dreams,” Enoch putting his coffee down; “So I’ll save it for when we meet with Jehovah today.”
*************************************
It wasn’t long before Charles and Gaia both walked into the kitchen. Charles was his usual self but Enoch was stunned to see Gaia not as an angel. Instead she was in her human form; a Cherokee woman with long raven black hair wearing a terry cloth robe cinched tight to the waist.
“You two must have had a lovely night,” Michael smirking; “the walls are thin.”
“Oh that reminds me,” Enoch saving the two lovebirds from an embarrassing conversation as he opens a portal and pulls out a plucked bloodbloom flower. “Here,” as he hands it to Gaia; “thought you’d like to see one.”
“It is a lovely flower,” Gaia giving a hearty sniff; admiring the deep red hue and oddly shaped petals. “And it smells nice.”
“If you want to know more,” Enoch opening another portal as he finishes his coffee; pulling out a large book. “Flora and Fauna of Hell volume 1,” Enoch placing the tomb on the table; “it’s in demon script so you’ll need magic to translate it.”
“Thank you,” Gaia looking impressed; “those magic circles.”
“Portals,” Michael answering; “and I have never seen anyone do portal magic like you can Enoch.”
“When you are a demon who was born without wings,” Enoch answering; “you get real good at making and manipulating portals. If you are worried that I am plucking things from hell,” Enoch grinning; “while there is a civil war, relax. The book and bottle of syrup are from a safe house I got on earth.”
“And the flower,” Charles finding the scent pleasing; “were did you get that?”
“From a field where they grow wild on the outskirts of the fifth circle;” Enoch answering. “Away from civilization."
It was around that time the front door opened and in walked an angel with a sour look on her face.
“Dam that Jove,” She swears; “he was supposed to be on guard duty with me.” The angel plops right down next to Enoch as she grabs a cup of coffee and looks at the syrup bottle and pours a large chunk of it in her java. Before anyone can stop her; she downs the entire concoction in one gulp.
Enoch just stared at the angel sporting a rainbow colored hairstyle that he suspects is styled into a Mohawk when not on duty. Her face is similar to Celine who he met last night. While Celine had four snow white wings; this angels four wings were red with black tips. She was wearing a guard’s tunic and a dark grey skirt that went to her knees.
“Enoch,” Michael speaking; “this is your cousin Abrielle. Abrielle,” Michael looking at his daughter; “what happened?”
“How the hell should I know,” The angel putting down here coffee; “Just as I was starting my shift Jove storms out of the palace and flies off in a huff. I had to spend eight hours guarding a gate with no back up and no breaks. I had to use a fucking bush to relieve myself.”
“Language,” Michael shouting.
“English,” Abrielle snapping; “blame Jove for my surliness.” Putting down her coffee she finally notices the large wolf taur next to her.
To say Abrielle was stunned was an understatement. Sitting next to her was a white furred wolf taur with dove like wings along his lower torso. His upper torso was a light bronze tan like someone who is outdoors a lot or frequents tanning salons; with a face similar to her fathers but different and a halo. But it was his eyes that stood out; solid blue with untapped power contained within.
“The only cousins we have,” Abrielle snorting; “are the ones in hell.”
“And I was one of them,” Enoch responding; “I’m Enoch, Lucifer’s son. And you just dumped half a syrup bottle of bloodbloom nectar into your coffee.”
***********************
With breakfast being eventful with the arrival of Abrielle, Enoch soon returned to the room he was provided. Opening a portal to pull out the same clothing rack from earlier, Enoch peruses which shirt to wear. Mulling over whether to wear another music t-shirt, he soon smiles as he pulls out a shirt from a horror movie franchise.
“Are you trying to poke the bear,” Abrielle watching Enoch get dressed, recognizing the sinister doll with a knife on the t-shirt.
“Everyday,” Enoch answering as he puts on his sunglass; hiding his eyes; “it’s how I roll.”
“Oh shit,” Abrielle noticing the various graphic tees and making a bee line to the rack; “you got a Slayer and Anthrax t-shirt.”
“Careful,” Enoch debating whether to send the rack back to his safe house on earth; “most of those shirts are collector’s items. Acquired at clubs and venues on earth that now no longer exist. My Beatles shirt came from their last concert at Candlestick Park. The Metallica t-shirt was from their Day at The Green concert,” Watching Abrielle admiring the various bands on the garments; “That Anti Nowhere League shirt came from a dive bar outside of Brighton England.”
“I’m borrowing this one,” Abrielle snatching the Ramones T-shirt; “you don’t mind?”
“As long as it comes back in the same condition as it was off this rack,” Enoch responding; “Don’t cut them up just so you can wear them with your wings out.” The last comment fell on deaf ears as Abrielle rushed out of the room. “perhaps I should talk to Jehovah about getting my own place.”