“That answers that.” Gabriel answered the question himself as the raft drifted down the river. Sarah was looking at him with wild, horrified eyes that, already pale, were rapidly threatening to turn entirely milky white.

“I was. I’m not anymore.” Gabriel added, crossing his legs while he steadily paddled along. The water was slow and quiet for the moment, and though her eyes darted around while searching for a place to escape, he could see the wheels turning as she realized there was nowhere to go. “But you were a prisoner for a long time, how do you know about chariettos?”

The question didn’t calm her down or stop the angel from looking for an escape, but it also didn’t stop her from answering. “First I heard them mentioned sometimes, just as what they used to hunt powerful spirits. But I’ve seen the people in boxes… videos, the… the movies.” She shuddered, and Gabriel rolled his eyes and groaned.

“Tell me you’re kidding. The movie wasn’t called ‘The Villain’ was it?” Gabriel asked.

That at least gave her pause, “Yessss… why?” She cocked her head a little at the question, ‘Why would that make him uncomfortable?’ She wondered while she watched Gabriel shift the way he sat as if he were planted on something poking him just the wrong way.

“It’s true that chariettos hunt spirit creatures, bounty hunters, border patrols, and some of the more dangerous cults trying to create private armies of bound angels, demons, fae…” Gabriel rubbed the stubbly beard on his face and let out an exasperated sigh. “But it’s more complicated than that.”

“Complicated how exactly?” Seraphim pressed, no longer darting her eyes around for an escape as they went down river, she also wasn’t able to relax, her limbs felt tense and she mentally prepared herself to summon the Thousand Eyes.

“Movies, even movies that are based on a true story, are always exaggerated.” Gabriel explained, “For starters there aren’t thousands of chariettos around the world. There are no more than a few hundred. Also we’re not born superhumans, and we don’t have some mysterious dark origin in a cult. We definitely don’t go around brooding about our fates while wearing dark clothing and speaking with-” Gabriel stopped and groaned again.

“What?” Seraphim asked.

“Okay, so the last part is sometimes true. Black clothing and clandestine meetings with mysterious figures is… sometimes necessary. But there’s no charietto in the world who can best whole armies on their own on open ground, open portals to other dimensions, and we definitely don’t have any secret deals with aliens who hybridize us for superpowers. What does happen is a lot simpler. We make bargains with powerful spirits after completing arduous training. Satanael, Cernunnos, Lugh, and so on. In exchange for giving them things they want, they answer our… I don’t like to call them prayers. I worship fuckall.”

“Which god is fuckall?” Seraphim asked and scratched her head. “Or is it a spirit?”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Gabriel stared at her for a moment to see if she was serious, her expression curious and interested, sent him into a paroxysm of laughter that went on until his chest hurt and he had to put his hand over it and force himself to stop. The raft shook with the force of his amusement, splashing water around outside the boat and causing her to grab hold of the thin ropes that ran around the top to steady it until he could speak again.

“What did I say?” Seraphim asked, furrowing her brow while wondering, ‘Was I just insulted?’

“Nothing. What I said wasn’t a god, it was an expression, and you threw me off.” Gabriel answered, “What I meant was, I’m not in any faith, there’s no one deity I worship. I made bargains with various spirits and ask for their help, which I end up getting most of the time because if they don’t answer, I won’t get them what they want anymore.”

She was quiet for a moment, he looked away from her probing eyes, they were losing some of their paleness and returning to her more storm gray tint, but no less fixed on him. ‘It’s like being under a microscope while in a goddamn petri dish.’ Gabriel thought, and chose to expand on his answer.

“So… yes, we, or I, hunted angels, demons, djinn, whatever I had to hunt. Sometimes for other spirits, sometimes for governments. It wasn’t personal, I’m not one of the Humanity First people who want to kill off spirits. It was just how I made a living, and I was really, really good at it. But I left all that behind. I guess you could say I was burned out after an incident with my asshole brother. So I used some of the money I saved up, set up a shell company, bought that house which is now a smoking ruin thanks to him fucking me over one last time, and walked away from it all.” Gabriel finished his explanation, or thought he did.

“I’m not proud of some of the things we did. But I’m not going to apologize for it either. So if you’re going to judge me for it,” he jerked his thumb toward the water, “start swimming. Otherwise, no more questions for now, Sarah.”

Seraphim glanced down at the water and then back at Gabriel. Were he not rowing, she was fairly sure his arms would be crossed, and he’d fallen silent again. “What’s with the name?” She chose to press her luck.

“If you go by ‘Seraphim’ when we get to civilization, you’ll be found out. Sarah is close enough. Get used to it, and don’t refer to yourself as an angel. You’re just a lost young woman and I’m your guardian taking you back home, that’s all.”

“I can’t lie.” Seraphim retorted.

“But contrary to evidence, you can shut up, right?” Gabriel asked the rhetorical question and she fell into a sullen silence of her own.

“Good. Since you can’t lie, you’re going to have to say nothing unless directly addressed for specific things. I’ll introduce you, you don’t have to lie. Just answer to Sarah when I use the name. Got it, Sarah?” He asked.

Seraphim gave him a sullen and begrudging nod, refusing to speak further and crossing her arms in defiance of her own.

Neither looked at the other for hours, instead focusing on the scenery, the tall trees which were once so dense became thinner, smaller, and fewer as they drifted down river, the high cliff on which the road ran, wound its way into a mountain and vanished from view, and the city drew ever closer.

Seraphim found herself having to look up more and more to see the top of the towering structures until her neck had to crane all the way back. “How do you make things like this…” She asked with awe.

“Steel support beams, mostly.” Gabriel answered.

“Steel, like for swords?” She asked without glancing at him as he began to steer the raft toward a small dock against the concrete wall that kept the river from overflowing.

“I suppose. I’m not a structural engineer. I know that steel beams are like the skeleton, and a bunch of other stuff is attached to it ‘somehow’ but it’s a lot better than the way things were done hundreds of years ago. Maybe they had a few spirits bless some of these against collapse, too, I don’t really know.” Gabriel answered her as they came closer to the wooden pier.

Seraphim let out a discontented hum as if she weren’t entirely satisfied with his answer, but he ignored it and brought the boat close to the wood. Eight large round wooden beams were each wrapped in a single metal band which was in turn secured to a floating wooden platform. The wood was darkened from water stains and it bobbed securely in place as they finally came to a stop.

“Alright, let’s go… I’m going to hate this part.” Gabriel let out the third groan of the day when Seraphim stood on the wooden platform and crouched down to hold the raft in place for him.

“Getting out of the raft?” She asked as he scooted close to the pier.

“No.” He said, tossing their packs onto the dock and grabbing a pull bar embedded into the wood, he hauled himself out, pushing out of the raft and allowing it to drift out of reach. “Going to see my ex.”