3. Cassius

Cass sighed dramatically.

"Don't you make that noise at me, young man," Aunt Ro demanded. "The spirits are restless, and you best pay heed."

Cass finished at the espresso machine and walked right through Aunt Ro to get back to the counter. The unpleasant chill it gave him was worth it just to see her disgruntled face. She hated when her space was invaded.

She really knew better than to harass him while he was working though. Dire warnings and afterlife politics could wait until after the morning rush was over.

"It's a matter of the very existence of the universe," Aunt Ro complained, placing her hands on her hips in a way that accentuated the large begonias scattered over her dress.

He rolled his eyes and mumbled, "It always is."

Steph gave him the side-eye, but she was used to him talking to himself and mostly ignored his quirks. It was why she still worked here and he paid her so well.

It wasn't that he didn't take his job outside the coffee shop seriously, because he did. It was just that there was always something. Since the archangel Gabriel had given him the prophecy, he had kept an eye out, but nothing out of the norm had happened.

Well, perhaps that was a bit of an understatement. Nothing out of the norm for his life had happened. He had talked to his cousin, which had gone about as well as you could expect when you had to tell someone their significant other was cheating. He had also dealt with a demonic possession. Sort of. And he'd helped Michael and Arioch a time or two again. And he'd dealt with a really grumpy murdered ghost. Then there was the hellhound incident, but the creature hadn't killed anyone or set anything on fire when he came into the shop, so who was he to complain?

See, a perfectly normal week in Paradise Falls.

Aunt Ro slapped her hand on the counter in front of him, distracting him for a moment from the present customer. He rolled his eyes when he saw her bracelet with rhododendrons on it. His aunt really needed to stop pretending they were living in the Victorian era. She really didn't need to communicate with hidden flower meanings when she was perfectly capable of harassing him verbally whenever she felt like it.

"Will that be all?" he asked the customer after ringing in their coffee. When they nodded, he replied, "Great! Coming right up! And no worries—I'll proceed with caution, because, you know, hot coffee can be dangerous."

Aunt Ro hmphed at the words he stressed, but hopefully she understood that he got her message just fine. The customer looked at him like he was slightly insane, but he was used to that look.

Aunt Ro disappeared with another harumph, and when Steph found a begonia in the dessert case where one hadn't been two minutes ago, she only blinked and stared for a moment before she handed it off to him and started on the next order.

Cass was never more thankful for her than in that moment.

By midafternoon,Cass was leaning against the counter and enjoying his own coffee and a moment of peace. He sipped at it, his phone and earbud at the ready just in case some wayward ghost needed his attention.

It had been a weirdly quiet few days though. He wondered if something really was upsetting the spirit world, and he sighed at the thought.

God, he was tired. Running a business full time, helping wayward spirits, and then also assisting the living when called on to do so—it was exhausting. He really needed to hire another Steph. She worked full time and knew all his quirks, and he had quickly promoted her to manager, but otherwise it was a revolving door of college students and teenagers who picked up hours here and there. He needed someone else full time. He had the distinct feeling that things were about to go sideways.

He sighed again, looking down and sipping at his coffee. At least the shop was blessedly empty for now, although he knew that would change after work hours were done.

When he looked up, his eyes were caught by the angel walking along the sidewalk outside the shop.

He was stunning. His wings flared out behind him, dark as midnight, glossy, and soft looking. He was wearing white pants with some kind of belt twisted around his waist, and his bare torso was drool-worthy. His eyes were a piercing blue that Cass could see even from here, and his hair fell in a dark, straight canopy over his shoulders.

And his skin was gray.

Cass shifted behind the counter, the arousal that burst through him not entirely welcome. Being turned on by the angel you were supposed to help wasn't really… helpful.

He made the conscious effort to see what everyone else saw. Seeing the world without his sight wasn't comfortable to do, and it inevitably gave him a migraine if he did it for too long. It was like squinting your eyes and looking through a really dirty window at the same time. Everything seemed duller and fuzzy, and it took effort.

For everyone else, the angel had perfectly normal skin, if it was a bit pale, and he wore jeans and a white sweater. His hair and eyes stayed the same. The wings were, of course, gone.

Cass liked to know what the angels and demons who he talked to expected him to see. He didn't often share that he could see their true forms (including the clothing they wore while in the afterlife); it tended to freak them out. For being immortal beings, they were sometimes a bit weird about things.

When Cass stopped blocking his sight, the gray angel came back into focus, only for one second he wavered a bit, like a mirage in the desert, and Cass swore he was wearing a knit white scarf, but then he blinked and the vision was gone.

Huh. Weird. A premonition of a white scarf didn't give Cass much to go on.

The angel opened the door and came in, and Cass straightened up.

"What can I help you with, beautiful?" he asked.

The angel did a bit of a double take at the nickname, but Cass didn't take it back. He was beautiful. As he drew closer, Cass saw the glow within him. His skin was gray, but it was like all the glow that angels usually had on the outside had retreated to his inner being. His soul shone so brightly that Cass had a hard time not seeing it.

He tried not to see people's souls, and since that took extra effort (squinting in a different way, if Cass had to explain it), it wasn't hard to not see them. Looking felt invasive, like he was spying on someone in their underwear when they didn't know they'd left their curtains open.

But this angel's soul was a beacon underneath his gray skin, and little tendrils of golden light shimmered around it, like threads were reaching out and searching for something.

Cass cleared his throat, blinked, and made the effort to lock down his sight. He wasn't going to go ogling some angel's soul, no matter how beautiful it was.

"I'll take a black coffee," the angel replied.

"Name?" Cass asked.

"Kushiel," the gray angel replied. Then he turned a bit, like he didn't expect to chat.

"I'm Cassius. Most people call me Cass," Cass responded.

Kushiel looked at him and nodded, then turned his attention to the pastry case.

Okey-dokey then. Coffee first.

Cass poured a black coffee and brought it over, placing it on the counter. "What else can I help you with?" Cass asked.

"That'll be all," Kushiel replied.

Huh. "Are you sure?" Cass asked. This was the angel he was supposed to help, wasn't it?

"Yes, thank you," he replied, pulling a wallet out of thin air and removing a card to swipe. Cass knew that everyone else would have seen him get it from his pocket, but Cass wasn't everyone else.

He leaned on the counter. "Coffee is on the house. I think I can be of assistance with some other matters, however, angel," Cass responded. He knew he was grinning a little stupidly at the angel, but he was so darn sexy and shone so brightly that Cass couldn't help it.

Kushiel looked momentarily surprised, then an easy smile fell over his face. "Yeah?" he asked.

"Of course. I strive to be helpful, and I think you might need my kind of help," Cass replied, leaning forward a little more. Something smelled divine, and Cass thought maybe it was Kushiel.

The angel laughed, however, and took his cup off the counter. "Thanks for the offer, but you're not what I'm looking for," he replied, turning to walk out the door.

"I'm exactly who you're looking for!" Cass called out as the angel walked out the door, but he just turned, smiled, and let the door close behind him.

"He'll be back," Cass muttered, a little disgruntled at that turn of events. Surely there wasn't more than one gray angel out there?

"That has to be the worst pick up you've ever attempted," Steph said, carrying a tray of donuts in from the back.

"What?" Cass asked, surprised. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean, I was kind of waiting for some awful pickup line about him falling from heaven when you called him angel," she said, arranging the donuts in the case while Cass gaped at her. "Then when you were all like ‘you might need my kind of help' I almost dropped my tray," Steph said, imitating his voice on the quote. "He was definitely hot, but you're usually much more smooth than that. It was almost painful watching you crash and burn."

"I wasn't trying—" Cass started, but then he cut off.

He replayed the whole conversation in his head. Add his goofy grin. Add his stupid sniffing of the guy.

Fuck.

He groaned and put his face in his hands.

Steph patted his back. "It's ok, champ, we all strike out. I bet he'll be back."

At that moment their afternoon help came in—a high school kid who was picking up hours whenever possible to save up for a car.

"You're tired. Go home. Relax. Derek and I can handle the evening rush, and I'll close up. When you crash and burn that hard, a little time off is necessary," she smirked.

"Brat," he said affectionately, but he took off his apron and stuffed it under the cash register, despite the dirty look Steph gave him. He knew she'd hang it up for him, and he felt slightly bad about that, but if he went into the back, he'd find a million things he ought to do instead of going home. And he was tired.

He made his way out the front door and started walking. His house was one that had been handed down through his family, and it was less than a mile from his shop. It was a nice walk where he could clear his head a bit. He didn't get so lost in his thoughts that he didn't keep a lookout for a certain gray angel though. Because yes, he had definitely let that whole thing go sideways. Unless Kushiel didn't even know he was looking for someone to help him? It was hard to tell.

Prophecies were such a pain in the ass sometimes. And this was coming from someone who often received them.

Well, no use worrying about it. Kushiel would be back. He was sure of it. He didn't have that itch or sense of wrong he sometimes got when he'd really fucked something up. He knew that feeling from when he was young and still learning, and he hadn't gotten that when Kushiel had left. If he had, he would have run after the angel.

He was at his house before he knew it, and he was distractedly thinking of Kushiel as he put the key in the lock. When he swung open the door though…

It was like he had conjured up that feeling of utter wrongness by thinking about it. It wasn't quite an itch, like he had done something wrong. Whatever this was, it wasn't his fault.

It was like he was doused in a bucket full of doom; he felt like curling up on the floor and crying.

Something was very wrong, and it was inside his house.

He stood on his front stoop for an inordinate amount of time. He knew he'd have to go in eventually, but… it just felt so awful. He wanted to weep, and he had no idea why, but the sadness was real and overwhelming. His body felt like it was crawling with ants—his skin was itchy and too tight. He realized that his hands were fisted so tightly that his fingernails were digging into his skin. He had the urge to just walk away. Leave and not come back.

He stayed there, though, resisting the urge.

He was Cassius Priam, seer, medium, and oracle. He had the gift of sight and astral walking. He had helped thousands of souls in his life, and a feeling, no matter how debilitating, would not stop him from his work.

He took a deep breath and stepped into his house, letting the door close behind him.

His house was old and didn't have an open floor plan like so many newer houses, and there was a small entrance hall that led into the rest of the downstairs, which included a living room, a half bath, a formal dining room, a large eat-in-kitchen, and a back porch. Stairs were to his right, which led to the bedrooms.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting in the house, but he was not prepared for the sudden appearance of Aunt Ro directly in his path, and he almost shrieked in surprise.

She looked washed out and gray, which was entirely unlike her. She usually appeared in vibrant technicolor—sometimes even more vibrant than realistically possible. She was muted now, though, and that frightened Cass. Still, he recognized the rue on her ghostly dress.

"For sorrow or repentance, Aunt Ro?" he whispered in question. He wasn't even sure why he whispered, except it felt like talking too loudly would disturb… something.

She began wringing her hands, looking over her shoulder toward the rest of the house. When she faced him, he saw tears sliding down her cheeks. "Oh Cass, I couldn't leave it here alone to come and get you. I'm not even sure what you can do to help."

"What is it, Aunt Ro?" he asked, concern washing away the last of his hesitance.

"I didn't know where else to bring it," she replied. She moved out of the way then, gesturing him onward into the house.

He walked down the hall and into the living room, and when he saw the soul that was inside, he understood why Aunt Ro had said ‘it.'

He couldn't tell if it was male or female. In fact, he wouldn't have even known it was human, except he had the distinct knowledge that it was. He occasionally dealt with other beings, even though it was difficult to communicate with them, but this soul emanated humanity.

It also emanated sorrow. And pain. And grief. And so much regret.

It was almost without form. Cass felt like he was staring into a dark corner to look upon it. He couldn't quite make any details out, and his eyes kept wanting to skitter away. When he turned off his sight, it was gone, but he still felt it there. When he tried to look more closely, he only saw a roiling mass of darkness, although occasionally there was the barest glimpse of shining light within it.

It existed on the astral plane, which meant it was technically a ghost. Only Cass had never seen anything like it in all his time on Earth, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do with it.