Nananiel’s shift was almost over.
Surprisingly, the gig at BurgerQueen wasn’t much different from when he was a lower-ranked angel (which he became once again) dispatched to the battlefield when the Thirteenth Generation attacked Heaven.
Every move he made was watched by his beady-eyed manager, who was like an angel with superiority over him. Any mistake would spell disaster and immediate termination. During work, there was no time to rest or catch his breath.
Nananiel even swore that lunch hour at BurgerQueen was just as brutal as fighting a demon infestation, yet he did it all with a cheery smile.
Oh, that employee of the month plaque will soon be his.
It was funny how being of low rank left him with a lot of free time, and he was way less stressed than when he was Dominion Chief.
Even when his time for the day’s battle reached its end, he publically asked for overtime, but with no extra pay, he left his co-workers and boss flummoxed.
And so, Nananiel (who was going by the name of “Daniel”), the minimum wage overachiever, finally headed home. It was too late to catch a bus, and he refused to use wings to ruin his human experience. He was content with walking 3 miles to his rundown abode that even cockroaches found disgusting to infest. But the walk was—well, a walk in the park—compared to the mental and physical struggle it took to open his apartment door after inserting the key. Nananiel suspected he was inadvertently using more of his angelic power to unlock the dastardly thing every time he tried.
The battle lasted almost 20 minutes, and in that timeframe, Nananiel fought back sweat and tears and endured the yelling of his angry neighbors whose precious sleep was disturbed. Nananiel lived on the building's top floor (the 3rd floor), and yet, his home looked like a basement — a murder’s basement at that. He allowed the door to slam shut behind him as he moved up to the stained striped sofa in his kitchen/living room, which he preferred to sleep in instead of his bedroom/bathroom.
He collapsed on the sofa, not bothering to change out of the BurgerQueen uniform, turned on the old TV, and played the recording of the latest episode of Hospital General de Anita. After episodes of stalling, Anita was finally going to do the DNA test to figure out who her son’s father was! Nananiel was betting on Julio and had spent an hour crafting an enormous post on Reddthem explaining why his theory made sense (the downvote/upvote ratio was disappointing).
Aggressive knocking on his crappy apartment door forced him to hit pause on his precious show. He opened the door, but nobody was there. Nananiel wondered if his neighbor’s kids were playing Knock-and-Dash with him again. He never understood the objective of the game.
Then Nananiel heard a loud, distinct quack. He looked down and saw a white duck standing on his welcome mat.
Nananiel blinked twice as he held the duck’s blank stare.
The staredown came to a bizarre end as the duck eloquently asked—not quacked—but asked, “Well? Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
The former Dominion Chief stepped aside and contemplated just how tired he actually was as the White Pekin waddled inside. “Thanks,” it said in its regular-sounding male voice.
Nananiel slowly closed the door while agape as he watched the duck hop onto the coffee table.
“Take a seat, Nananiel,” the duck insisted. “I’ve got things to do.”
He listened to the duck and settled back onto the couch but kept the confounded look on his face. “How did you knock on the door?”
“You see a talking duck before you, and that’s your first question?”
“Did you use something to knock on the door?” Nananiel studied the duck. “But if so… what did you hold it with? I guess your bill would make sense.”
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“Enough about that,” it said and flapped its wings. “Nananiel, focus and sense me.”
Nananiel followed the pushy duck’s order and concentrated on its Mana. It was undoubtedly angelic and familiar. “You’re… an angel….” His eyes widened upon realizing he was sensing the energy of his informant, his special contact providing him crucial information since his demotion. “Wait… you’re—”
“From now on, I’ll give you intel while in this form.”
“Why a duck?”
“What did you want, a penguin?”
“No, that would be even more confusing.”
“What I am doing for you is heedless, Brother Nananiel. I can no longer carelessly conventionally visit you without getting caught, and I am going to need you to stop referring to me by that name,” the duck said and paused, doing what Nananiel assumed was a stern look. “It is of great importance that you refer to me from now on as nothing other than… Quackziel.”
Nananiel's expression went blank, and then he chuckled. “Is this all an elaborate jest?”
“Do you know an angel that jests?”
“Well, I do now.”
The duck looked down and heaved a sigh while shaking its head.
“... Can you summon your wings in that form?” Nananiel asked.
“... yes,” Quackziel answered.
“Can I see?”
“No.”
“Aw…” Nananiel could still see the paused screen on his old TV showing a helicopter shot of Anita's hospital and started thinking back to his theory. Quackziel let out a quack, pulling him back to reality.
“Nananiel… your gambit failed. One of the Tainted Generation is now dead.”
An unbearable silence followed after hearing the harsh news. Nananiel got up, feeling the agony and sadness rise inside him like dough in an oven. “No… Who?”
“Yaalon Tahan.”
Nananiel sat down, making a sad smile. He felt terrible being relieved, but the outcome was better than he had hoped.
“Yaalon was one of the good ones, Brother Nananiel.”
“Do you know who did it?”
“That's not important. What's important now is to be aware that the wheels of fate are turning, Brother,” Quackziel alerted. “We live in days that'll be told as engaging stories for eons to come. Whether it'll be a tragedy or a story where good triumphs evil will depend on the moves we make from this point forward.”
Nananiel gulped, imagining the lyrically terrifying songs Virtue angels would write for the next century. “So… should I go to Zurich then?”
“No, let those boys deal with that situation. They are capable, Brother, and they have help. You, on the other hand, need to focus on what's coming to affect you directly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Elder Sister Irin will be making a visit to Winterberry. Seeking an audience with you specifically.”
“What for?”
“I don't know, but you need to prepare yourself, Brother," Quackziel warned. He hopped off the coffee table and waddled to the door. Nananiel got up and opened it for him. “'ll try to get more info for you when I can.”
“I appreciate it… Brother Quackziel.”
The duck nodded and waddled away, leaving Nananiel alone to face a rough session of rumination coming his way.
Even as a low-ranked angel, he was buried under a colossal weight of responsibility, and so many eyes were on him, awaiting his next move, expecting him to fail… again.
Nananiel didn’t watch his show that night.
###
AJ was aware of her parents’ grievances whenever she’d go out at night for a run, and doing it during winter and around midnight was really pushing it. But she had to sneak out. The cool air mended her nerves that refused to allow her to rest ever since the stepbrothers ventured
off to Zurich. Giving Zeke the warning about a possible murder didn’t help her sleep the following night either.
Every day, her chest got heavier as if rocks were filling her lungs, she’d find herself wheezing in panic randomly throughout her day, and her head would pang continuously like a never-ending hangover. It was the unknown that was the main factor behind her pain. Contacting them was out of the question, and all she had to cling onto was faith… which she wasn’t a good practitioner of.
AJ stopped after half a lap and doubled over, clenching her knees as she panted heavily. She didn’t break a sweat in her winter running gear, yet her body was ready to go home. She looked around Berry Park’s tacky Christmas lights and spotted a white duck waddling about.
Her face twisted with confusion as the duck got nearer. It looked perfectly groomed and comfortable in cold weather, making it less out of place than it was supposed to.
If only something could prepare her for what was about to happen next.
“A girl your age shouldn't be out here alone this late at night,” the duck said. “That's dangerous.”
AJ stared dumbfounded.
“Wait… um… I meant ‘quack,’” the duck shook its head. “I mean…”
And then it actually quacked. It bowed and waddled away.
AJ missed the days when the weirdest thing that had happened to her was finding a piece of broccoli in her bra.