Surprise, Exorcise, Vanish Chapter 8

Ontos awoke from a dreamless sleep.

He opened his eyes to his new reality.

He slid out of bed, bare feet landing on plush carpet. He was ever mindful of the half dozen new appendages he now possessed, as well as the ever present halo. He wanted to feel like he was used to them by now, used to his new skin, his new face, his new everything.

He wanted to say that, but he couldn’t. Things took time, and it would take longer than the last couple of days. Perhaps far longer.

The apartment he had been granted was well appointed. It wasn’t quite as lavish as much of the rest of Heaven he had seen. Not quite lived in either, not yet at least. The furniture and decor were contemporary. The living area alone was bigger than the suburban home he’d spent the last few years residing in back in Virginia.

He reminded himself that most of the furniture was sized for what he was calling his ‘normal’ height, or rather how tall he was when he first arrived. His bedroom was no different, the four poster bed was massive compared to what he was used to sleeping on. The furniture and furnishings likewise far more luxurious that he’d had any right to.

Overall, the spaces were homely, yet not quite yet lived in per se. It was his. But not yet truly his.

Ontos stretched, feeling how his new body moved. The old one had been frail by comparison. He’d done cardio and strength training to keep himself in shape, and worked out at the public gym at the Agency. But as he’d gotten older, the toll he’d put himself through in his youth caught up with him, accumulated aches and pains from years of violence and the beginnings of arthritis.

At least he’d abstained from smoking. He’d known a couple of chainsmokers from his Army days that had already paid a price in the form of ravaged lungs, chemotherapy and an early grave. He’d stayed away from the bottle too for the most part. A few other old colleagues had found their graves at the bottom of one.

He felt no pain, no discomfort. Once he might have found it exciting, amazing even. Instead, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of loss. The aches and old scars were in a way reminders of his time and service to his country and people. To be without them felt like a loss.

But he still remembered. He had his memories still, of those times and days. Those would follow him forever.

Ontos stepped into the bathroom. Said bathroom was far and away the most lavish he had ever used, never mind called his own, and it was as modernly furnished as the rest of the apartment. A full bathtub, a standing enclosed shower, marble sink and countertops. An even larger mirror, in which he could appreciate his new physique.

There were no flaws in what he saw, merely things he had yet to fully acclimatize to. The platinum blond hair and crystal blue eyes would be easier, compared to the towering wiry physique. Or the shapeshifting. Or the six feathered wings.

They were real limbs. They were as much flesh and bone as the rest of him and completely covered in pale feathers, ranging from the off-white down to the snow-white flight feathers. The novelty had yet to wear off. He suspected he would have to learn how to properly take care of them in due time.

While brushing his teeth was a familiar morning item, the shower took longer. The wings each needed to be meticulously and carefully cleaned. The helpfully provided scrunchies and sponges helped. In time he’d no doubt work out a faster routine and process to it, but he’d have to learn as he went.

An hour later, he finally emerged from his bathroom freshly showered. The finer feathers were still damp, despite his best efforts to pat them dry. There were muscles there he was still unfamiliar with, that seemed to let him control his wings’ overall puffiness. So he’d puffed them up a little to help them dry faster. It worked, as by the time he was getting dressed they had fully dried.

Yesterday, and the first full day of his new life? Afterlife? He’d asked Emily about where to get clothing. More specifically, a tailored suit. Emily smiled, and promised to take him to someone she knew, a skilled tailor that worked with their fellow seraphim.

For the moment, he would have to settle for the same robe he’d worn when he’d arrived. It had been freshly laundered by the housekeeping staff for the apartments, angels that Emily referred to as cherubs. They seemed to fill the roles of workers and menials, at least in the sprawling estate his apartment was located in.

He wanted to learn more about them. They didn’t seem to be human like himself or other angels such as Sarah from the other day. They seemed as if they were native to Heaven. Emily seemed to get along with them. She promised to help answer any questions he had, so he added them to the list to ask about.

Besides his robe, the housekeepers had taken care of his other garments too. It took him a couple of minutes to fully dress. His wings were the problem, as he had to be mindful of each one and which hole they went through. Dressing was another thing, another simple action that would take time to get used to.

Ontos spared a moment to regard himself in the mirror. He wondered about what Emily had in mind for him. Before parting ways the evening before, Emily had told him Lady Sera wanted to meet with him later that afternoon. Hence his desire for formal attire. He wanted to dress his very best.

Speaking of, assuming the knock on his door was her, she was here. Stepping out into the living room, he strode over to the door to open it.

The moment he did, a blur crashed into him.

“Ontos!” Emily’s arms and wings wrapped around him in an embrace. “Good to see you.”

“Emily,” he patted the smaller seraphim’s head. “Good to see you too.”

She released him, smiling and clearly happy to see him. She wore a different outfit from the past two days, a blouse and skirt combination in lieu of the formal robes she’d worn before. “Are you ready to visit The Tailor?”

Ontos heard the capitalization in those words. “I believe I am.”

Emily grinned. “Ooh, she’s going to love you! She works with all of the seraphim, even Sera!”

“I’m looking forward to it already. Well, lead the way.”

--==--

Emily called her The Tailor. With two capital T’s.

The storefront was the very definition of the word nondescript. It lacked any kind of signage. It lacked even a storefront, the entrance being a side door to a fanciful brownstone that wouldn’t look out of place in an upscale DC neighborhood. The actual front of the building appeared to house an upscale shoe store, judging from the window displays.

Emily opened the door, tucking in her wings as she passed through the narrow entrance. Ontos had to duck, and he wondered if the other seraphim had to as well. He hadn’t changed his dimensions at all since the day before. Maybe the others pulled the same trick Sera did, back at the cafe?

He wanted, no, needed to learn how to do that.

Ontos already had an idea of what kind of place this was, long before setting a foot inside. He had set foot in places like this maybe thrice in his life, and never as a customer. It was the sort of business that had a very small, very select clientele, where the advertising was exclusively word of mouth and the fees were billed to private accountants after the fact.

He wasn’t sure if Heaven had any rich and famous people. It had powerful people, seraphim like himself. The wealthy and the powerful got their clothing from places like this, perfectly tailored to their tastes and preferences.

The interior was better lit than he had anticipated. Warm light filled the space, radiating from wall lamps set high on the walls. The front room was less shop and more eclectic storeroom, bolts of cloth and tailoring supplies scattered haphazardly about. A messy counter sat along the back wall, dividing the front area from a doorway that no doubt led to the back.

His notion that he knew what to expect was dashed. This was less off-label tailor and more mad scientist’s workshop, only less Frankenstein and more Armani. As they entered, a bell chimed above the door. Ontos recalled the door of the cafe. Like that bell, this one was a quaint addition. “Miss Tailor!” Emily called out. “It’s your favorite customer!”

“A minute!” a voice replied from the back room.

Ontos cleared the threshold, allowing the door to close behind him and the bell to chime a second time. He had an idea of how to approach this, but he’d already been wrong about the establishment. So he opted to let Emily lead. She seemed to have a friendly rapport with the proprietor already at least.

Said proprietor emerged from the back room a moment later, and Ontos refrained from doing a double take. The angel that emerged from the doorway was unlike most of those he’d become acquainted with. They didn’t resemble a stereotypical angel at all, or even a human being for that matter.

The eponymous Tailor looked every bit the part of an anthropomorphic barn owl, standing upright on taloned avian feet. They were short, very short, even Emily towered over them. Their feathers were snow white, dotted with a dusting of mottled brown and gray. Their face was that of an owl’s as well, with slightly angled, large beady eyes and a small black beak.

They fit the part of a tailor though. Besides their simple outfit of trousers and puffy cotton blouse, the apron they wore was festooned in pockets, all of which were filled with an assortment of sewing tools and accessories. He’d seen a few other avian-like angels so far, and wondered if they were another type of angel akin to the cherubs.

Another thing on the list to ask Emily about.

“Miss Tailor, I brought you a new customer!” She gestured to Ontos behind her. “He wants to talk about suits.”

“Hello,” he greeted her.

The Tailor locked eyes with him, and he felt like she was staring into his soul. Perhaps she literally was. After a moment she broke her gaze, glancing over at his fellow seraphim. “You should too, little Emily. You’d look good in one.”

“Well, I probably would,” She tugged on her shirt hem. “But, well, children like my dresses, and suits feel kinda stuffy.”

The Tailor huffed, turning her gaze back at him. “You’re new.”

“I am.”

“They give you a job yet?”

Ontos raised an eyebrow. “In a manner of speaking.”

“Hrmph.” The Tailor floated over her counter, right up to him. She hovered there for a moment, barely a meter away at eye level. Her angel wings weren’t flapping to fly. Instead they were merely extended outward and glowing. Ontos got the impression The Tailor was using them to levitate, somehow. “On the taller side, I see. You look like Emily and Sera as well.”

She was referring to the High Seraphim. “So I’ve been told.”

Those large eyes of hers blinked. “I heard about you, through the grapevine. But never mind gossip, let me get a good look at you. Relax.”

“Relax?”

She pressed a talon into his chest, and for a moment he felt a strange sensation. He recognized it immediately, like when Leo had examined him days prior. A metaphysical hand, gently holding the metaphysical fist inside of him. Ontos opened his mouth to speak but The Tailor raised a finger to silence him. “Relax.”

He closed his mouth, nodding in understanding. In a moment, he reversed the self-modification he had made days prior, his form expanding up and out. Once more he had returned to his towering and inhuman size.

Emily looked up at him. She had sat on the counter to idly watch The Tailor work. There was a smile on her face. “You got taller.”

“I did.”

“More,” the Tailor insisted. “When I said a good look, I meant a good look.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Ontos spoke. He genuinely didn’t. How he arrived was how he looked currently.

“Well, Ontos, seraphim have a form that is… truer to ourselves,” Emily explained. “We have human forms, but we have angel forms too. I haven’t exactly had a chance to explain it yet, but, well,” Emily tapped her chin. “I know, I’ll show you!”

Emily hopped off the counter, and in a flash of light she changed. Gone was the cute young woman, and in her place-

The being before him was angelic in the most biblical definition of the word. Emily’s new form was humanoid, but the similarities with a human ended there. Her skin tone had shifted to an alabaster hue, a third eye occupied her forehead. Her six seraphic wings had shrunk and moved to behind her head, framing her face in place of her now missing hair.

“See?” Emily spoke, giving a curtsy with the hem of her blouse. “Sera has one, and you have one too!”

That smile was still hers though. He also noticed that her voice seemed to be coming from all around him now, rather than from Emily directly. The more he looked at her, the more he saw and focused on the myriad eyes that now studded her form, most notably the large sapphire eye in her chest looking up at him.

The Tailor had said to relax. Ontos thought about her words, that fist inside of him was still gently closed. But what if he opened it?

Ontos inhaled, exhaled, and did so.

Like before, the change he felt was almost instant. He perceived a flash from all around him, motes of dust-light fading as quickly as they appeared. He felt different, as if he was somehow more. A trio of large mirrors dominated one corner of the shop, and it was there that Ontos glimpsed the form he had taken.

The figure in the mirror could only generously be called humanoid. It was a tall and willowy figure, cloaked in a pale robe that clung tightly to its form. Its skin tone had shifted to a brilliant alabaster white like Emily’s. The halo had changed as well, the eyes now each glowing and the spikes jutting from them lengthened. He grimly noted that halo looked more like a crown of thorns now.

But it was the head, his head, that was the most frightening. Emily’s visage was still recognizably human to some extent. His… wasn’t. His mouth, nose, ears and hair were all gone. In their place a single, large sapphire eye now sitting in the center of his face.

Ontos’ gaze was drawn down to look at his hands, at the spindly limbs and pale digits. He opened and closed them. That sense of wrongness, of instinctive horror that had quieted itself in the back of his mind had come roaring back.

His hands began to tremble. These were not his hands. These were not his arms. This was not his face-

“Ontos!”

He heard his name being called. No, shouted. He realized it was Emily speaking. Emily who had returned to her normal, previous appearance, and who was floating before him with her hands on his face, her eyes filled with concern and fear.

“Emily,” he said her name. Like her voice had a moment ago, his too radiated from everywhere at once.

The tinny human voice in the back of his head was still screaming. Ontos silenced it. He got control of himself, the feelings of panic and mute horror fleeting. He inhaled, exhaled, tried not to think about how due to the lack of a nose or mouth. Calm, just calm.

“You completely froze up for a minute! I was so worried.”

“I…” Right, The Tailor, a change of clothes.

“First time?” the eponymous bird angel asked.

“I… Yes.”

“Happens to everyone,” she shrugged. “Newcomers get here from down on Earth, they make it a day or two before they have a panic attack.”

“The children, it affects them the worst,” Emily shook her head. “They get overwhelmed so easily.”

“Longest I ever heard was a week. Usually there’s others there with them to help them through. Never seen it happen to a seraphim though,” The Tailor scratched her chin with a chuckle. “A first for everything methinks.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you Emily, Miss Tailor,” Ontos gave a short bow. “I was overwhelmed.”

“Well, lemme finally get a good look at you then.” Emily backed away from The Tailor to let her work. She floated over and inspected his robes, her talons gripping and testing the material. “Out of curiosity though, when exactly?”

“Two days ago,” Ontos answered.

“Yep, sounds about right,” she nodded, letting go of the robe. With a taloned hand she took hold of his left wrist. It was easy to do despite her small size, on account of how… spindly his arms had become. He got the idea of what she was wanting and held it out, shoulder length and palm forward. “You know, it’s the funniest thing about the robes.”

“What is?”

“The fabric.” She traced a claw from his shoulder to his wrist, before floating around to his backside. Ontos felt the claw settle on the very tip of his left middle wing. It traced a path along the outside, causing goosebumps to race up his spine. It reached the base, pausing and prodding where the wing ended and fabric began, before continuing along the opposite wing to its tip.

“I like to think I’m a good seamstress. But the Divine? He’s the best.” A beat, before she continued. “It’s hard to get the holes right for the wings. Harder still to make it comfortable too, especially when someone has so blasted many. At least ophanim grow theirs to their rings. No worries about freedom of movement from them.”

She drifted downward, the claw drifting down his right thigh and to his shin. “By the way, I don’t do footwear. That’s Brew’s schtick.”

“Brew?”

“Samuel,” The Tailor clarified. “He’s up front in the shoe shop. A cobbler, for the moment. He’s my apprentice. Fancies himself a barman these days and moonlights as one too. He likes the nickname more.”

“I see.” The Tailor returned to his front, floating back up to his chest, all the while that lone talon never left his body. The talon drifted up and found his collar, and brushed across his neck there. He got the impression that her talons were every bit as sharp as they looked. Fourteen pounds of pressure, he remembered from a lifetime ago. How much pressure it took to pierce the neck, and the arteries and veins there.

“The hardest part? It’s not the wings, it’s getting the fabric to conform to you guys’ shapeshifting. Took me years to figure out, let alone master. That took decades. The trick is to infuse every garment with a little bit of Creation. It’s not enough to infuse the thread, you’ve gotta do the whole piece as you finish it.”

Ontos recalled the trick he pulled at the cafe the other day, shaving two feet off of his height. And numbers off of all of his measurements too. “I didn’t know it could cause problems.”

“Pretty much all Winners can change their appearances to some degree with a thought. Some can do it better, goetia like myself. Ophanim can manifest themselves a body if they want, a gift from the Divine and all that. There’s a few gifted naturals of course.” She glanced over at Emily. “Although I prefer it when my clients stick to two eyes, it's a lot easier to focus on than three.”

“Yeah, Oscar says that too,” Emily giggled. The human part of his hindbrain had fallen silent now, but it had recoiled at the sight of her true form. Did the others have forms like her, that were so… alien to human perceptions, he wondered?

“Back to the topic at hand, What exactly is that you're wanting?”

Ontos nodded. “Suits, business cut.”

The Tailor smiled. Or he got the impression of a smile with the way her beak twitched. “You already know what you’re looking for. Interesting.”

Ontos nodded. He’d thought at length about the colors, tried to envision how he’d look in the mirror in his apartment. He was still getting used to his new form though. “Black, white and brown. As well, three dress shirts, white, cream and light blue. Three ties, black, white and red.”

The Tailor cocked her head. "White collar work?"

Ontos nodded. "Indeed. You could say I'm a company man. What will I owe you for this?

A bark of laughter. “From a seraphim? Nothing.” She flapped her hand. “Well, perhaps a favor. Sometimes I need things. Seraphim are authority and all that.”

“I see.” From the right person, a favor could be worth more than gold. “I presume you’ve been taking my measurements?”

“Sharp eye on this one.” The Tailor floated away, nodding in satisfaction. “Mayhaps not in the way you were thinking. I can usually eyeball it, even seraphim like yourself. But souls can be funny things, and yours?”

She floated over, and pushed a talon into his chest. “It’s knotted and gnarled. Like a bonsai tree, all ancient and weathered. I needed to put a claw on it to get accurate numbers, so to speak.”

Ontos didn’t know how to respond to a statement like that. So he changed the subject. “What of the time frame then?”

“Today. An hour at most, counting the fitting.”

Ontos raised an eyebrow in surprise. “That’s fast.”

Her wings brightened in intensity, from their previous dull glow. As did her halo, which filled the room with a golden light. All around them, bolts of cloth and tools began to levitate, seemingly at their master’s will.

“It is. But you could say I’m good at what I do,” The Tailor smiled.

Ontos nodded and smiled. He could relate.

--==--

Ontos studied his appearance in the mirrors.

He liked what he saw.

He’d returned to his original human appearance for the fitting. The Tailor didn’t seem to mind. The mirrors in the corner of her shop were massive, full length affairs nearly four meters in height, and angled so that he had a wraparound view of his front and sides.

The Tailor had provided him with the brown suit first, followed quickly by the white. At the moment she was finalizing the black suit. Normally it took hours of work to create a single article of a suit. But for The Tailor? It took mere minutes. It was a testament to her skill, her talent that she could work so quickly and efficiently, yet have such high quality output.

He was wearing proof after all, as the suit fitted perfectly.

He tested his range of motion. Nothing pinched, or felt too tight or too loose. The white suit coat hugged his frame, yet left him with room to breathe. In hindsight, he hadn’t specified what style he’d wanted the suits to be in. He didn’t have to in the end, as he was more than satisfied.

At a glance, the suit was in the same style that the other seraphim had worn, with the distinctive flared shoulders and gold trim. He hadn’t been sure at first if the style would fit him, but he was glad that it did. It was a good thing, he was starting to come around to it.

He didn’t have a name for the style. It was reminiscent of the sorts of fancy outfits that he’d seen marching bands wear, with the arching shoulderpads worked into the lines of the coat. Whatever it was called, the other seraphim wore the style and they wore it well.

And so did he. He beat his wings. The motions kicked up small gusts of wind around him. He focused on how the edges of the slits in the shirt and coat met the feathers at the bases of his wings. Again, no discomfort whatsoever.

He was… satisfied.

“Well Ontos, what do you think? Miss Tailor does good work, doesn’t she?”

He looked over at Emily, who seemed in awe of his new look. “I think I owe Miss Tailor a favor when the time comes.”