The Liar
Chapter Two

Alarm screaming in her ear, she groaned, scrunching her face up. She was curled up in bed and the comforter was wrapped tightly around her. The buzzing proclaimed that it was morning, eight, and time to get up to ready for school. After a moment of enduring the noise, she sat up and turned it off. She didn’t feel like she had had nearly enough sleep, but she supposed that’s what she got for staying up until one thirty in the morning talking with an angel.

“Talking with an angel?” she echoed her thoughts aloud. Rubbing her eyes, she chuckled weakly. “Looks like that’s what I get for writing until the wee hours of the morning-- bizarre dreams. I can’t believe I actually thought for a moment that that happened!”

Still shaking her head ruefully at herself, she swung her legs out and stood up.  Frowning, she looked down. Something was tickling her sole.

Beneath her foot was a single white feather.

“Oh. Dear. Lord.”

Around the room there were about a dozen feathers, all long and pure white. With a sort of awe and shock, she walked her room in a slow circle, picking up each of them. When she had all of them gathered in her hands, she placed the pile on her desk, alongside a black fedora. The black fedora that had been taken off when the Liar had proved to her that he was an angel.

“…I can’t believe it. This is just too…just…impossible!” she spluttered, staring at the proof of last night’s encounter.

“Are you up yet?” called her mother from outside her door.

“Yes!” she answered immediately and a little too loudly, not taking her eyes off the feathers and the hat. Holding her breath, she hoped desperately her mother wouldn’t come in and see the hat and the feathers.

“Alright, then.” She heard her mother move away, and she released her breath slowly.

Spinning, she walked out of the room, grabbing a bath robe on her way out. She walked down the hall and into the bathroom, tossing her pajamas aside and stepping into the shower, letting hot water wash over her.

“It really happened. An angel, the Angel of Lies, has decided to waltz into my life and stay there,” she began, trying to put voice to the situation. “I know this because while he himself is not here, the feathers from his wings and his hat are. There’s no other way they could have gotten here. This can’t be a prank, because who would know the dream I had last night?” Taking a steadying breath, she realized that there was no way this could not be real.

“Well, this sucks.”

Fifteen minutes later, showered and hair brushed, she was back in her room, pulling a dark blue t-shirt over her head. It was plain, but she liked it that way. Company logos were annoying, and most of the things they put on shirts were stupid. In any case, she preferred a simpler aesthetic. Most days she wore blue jeans and a t-shirt, along with a dark-colored sweatshirt made out of light cloth. The one she wore today was a middling blue, hoodless and pocketless. It was one of her favorites. Stuffing the weekend’s homework into her bag and pocketing her wallet, she slipped into Birkenstocks. Pausing, she looked at the black hat on her desk. Biting back a smile, she placed it on her head. It really was a cool hat.

By this time she was the only one in the house, her parents having gone off to work. She left, locking the door behind her. Bag over one shoulder, she strolled down the street, starting the five-minute walk to school.

Technically, she didn’t have to leave until 8:50, which would be plenty of time to get there and make sure she wasn’t late. But she always preferred leaving around half-past, so that she could visit with her friends for twenty minutes before they got shuffled off to class, which may or may not have had socializing opportunities.

“Hey!” called one of her two best friends, Katie.

“Hey!” she called back, waving.

“How was your weekend? I bet you wasted it all writing.” Katie frowned at her, rolling muddy brown eyes.

“Nooo…well, yeah. I spent it all writing—but it was hardly wasted,” she protested mildly.

“Pfft. Whatever. You spent all weekend inside, you didn’t go anywhere, talk with anyone. Weekend wasted.” Her friend rolled her eyes a second time at the usual mad behaviour of her reclusive friend.

She grinned and shook her head at Katie. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Katie continued to frown. “And you’re crazy.”

“Second time I’ve been told that today…” she murmured to herself, thinking back.

“Huh?” Her friend looked at her blankly.

“Nothing. Let’s go find Rachel, alright?”

“Sure.”

They wandered off, ambling down the halls, talking to people they recognized. When it was nearly time for the bell to ring they found Rachel in the library, feverishly trying to finish some homework due first block. Laughing at the typical Rachel habit doing stuff like this, they sat down and helped her out. It still wasn’t fully complete by the time the bell went, but it would probably receive a passing grade.

“Bye!” they said to one another, as none of them shared the first block of Monday.

During the day the three of them only had one block together, but she had two other classes with one of them. For a Monday, it passed surprisingly quickly. She was exiting the school with her friends when she caught sight of a grinning Liar.

He stepped forward as she strode out to meet him.

“You’re wearing my hat,” he noted, looking down at her, standing just a little too close. He was four inches taller than her, and she didn’t like the way he towered over her in close quarters, so she punched him lightly in the stomach.

“You left it on my desk,” she told him, stepping back.

“Who’s this?” asked Katie, glancing slyly at her. He looked to be in his early twenties, and he was a cutie. Perhaps her writer friend did get out more often than they thought.

“I am the—”

The writer poked him sharply and hissed under her breath, “You are not telling them that you’re the Liar.”

“I am Testament,” he introduced himself, bowing. The three girls stared at him. “Scien Testament,” he amended quickly.

“Unusual name,” commented Rachel, shifting.

“Thank you,” replied the Liar, bowing again, although this time only slightly.

“So, how do you know our girl, here?”

“He’s a friend,” she interjected, splitting a sharp glare between her friend and the taller figure of the Liar.

“Yes. I just arrived in town and I’m eager to spend some time with this lovely lady. So I decided to pick her up.” The Liar smiled charmingly, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets and leaning forward engagingly. “I hope you don’t mind?”

Waving goodbye to them with a wide smile, he left them standing there, their faces like deer caught in the headlights with a hint of dead trout. The Liar drew her away, heading towards the parking stalls at an easy stroll, his arm linked with hers.

“You have a car?” she asked, surprised. It hadn’t occurred to her that an angel would own anything beyond the clothes they were wearing, let alone a car.

“Of course I don’t!” The Liar laughed the idea off. “I drive a motorcycle,” he continued, his characteristic mischievous look back.

“A motorcycle?”

“Yes.” He gestured to a parked cycle a short ways away. It was green and gold, sleek steel. It looked like a suicide machine on wheels. She told him as much.

“But it’s such a nice suicide machine,” he said plaintively, pretending to pout as he hugged it. “Here.” He tossed her a helmet, putting on one himself. Sighing, she climbed on behind him, putting his hat in her bag. “Where are we going?”

“No idea!” They zoomed out of the school parking lot. “Is there anywhere you would like to go? Are there any decent cafés around?”

“There’s this one I go to a lot.” She told him where it was. “I hope you have money, because you’re paying to start making up for the distress this is causing me.”

“I’m swimming in it,” he told her. “One of the benefits of being an immortal being. I have all the time in the world to learn skills and work and I don’t have very many expenses. All that extra money rakes up interest, especially over centuries. And I would never dream of not paying. I am a gentleman, you know.”

“A gentleman who sneaks into a lady’s room at one in the morning?”

“I’m a little shaky on certain points, true,” he admitted, and she the muscles of his back shift as he shrugged.

They entered the café to find it mostly deserted, the writer now having the fedora back on. The Liar paid when their drinks were handed to them, smiling flirtily at the girl working the register. The waitress responded with a faint blush and a shy smile. Finding a seat in the corner, they sipped their drinks.

“This is weird.”

“How so?” asked the Liar, arching an eyebrow. He was languishing in his chair, one foot on the opposite knee.

“This is…very much like a date.” She spoke slowly, her hair fallen forward to half-shadow her face.

“Ah?”

“I mean, you picked me up, took me here, paid, and now we’re sitting alone together…It’s very weird. I mean, I’m sixteen, and god only knows how old you are.”

“I know, Creativity knows, some other angels. God, on the other hand, has nothing to do with it. But let’s just say I’m considerably younger than the dinosaurs, but several times as old as Christ.” One shoulder rose and fell expressively. He smiled coyly, but his wickedly arched brow contrasted against the demure expression sharply.

“So Christ actually existed?” she wondered, suddenly intrigued. This would be the person to know.

“Hell if I know. I was over in Britain. But that’s not the point.”

“What was the point?”

“I was born before the current era. Over two thousand and seven years ago, but after the dinosaurs. Satisfied?”

“No.”

“Less than forty thousand years ago. After modern man.”

“That’s a little better. Still, you’re thousands of years old. This goes beyond regular pedopohilia.”

“I look in my early twenties,” he noted in his defense.

“Sixteen,” she pointed out, tapping herself on the chest. “It’s still pedophilia. And even if you were twenty-four, it would still be five years until the ‘relationship’ was socially acceptable.”

“How’s that?”

“Please tell me you know this. This is common knowledge. You’re thousands of years old. How can you not know this?”

“I’ve been busy,” he excused himself dryly.

“Doing what?” she demanded. He was an angel. What did he really have to do?

“Pissing off writers, getting an assortment of jobs.” He shrugged if off casually. He didn’t really keep track of his activities. Most people didn’t ask what he did with himself.

“Right. So—the youngest you can date is half your age plus seven. This wouldn’t be socially acceptable for five years because my age wouldn’t meet your’s minimum requirement until then. And it wouldn’t even be legal for two.”

“Good thing this isn’t a date, then.” He smiled behind his drink as he took a sip.

“Good thing.”

They worked on their drinks in silence.

“You know, I forgot to ask what your name was last night.” Green eyes peeked out at her from over the rim of a coffee cup. After taking a gulp, he set the mug on his knee and cocked his head to one side, staring at her curiously.

“Are you trying to tell me that you found me, decided to stalk me, and you don’t even know my name?”

“I’m bad with details?” he tried.

“That’s pathetic.”

“Just tell me your name. I told you mine!” He attempted a pout. It didn’t work very well, so he stopped.

“The Liar isn’t a proper name,” she scoffed, waving his words off as she took a sip of tea.

“What about Scien Testament, huh?” He sat back in the comfy armchair and smiled triumphantly across the narrow gap between them at her.

“You just made that up. I saw you looking at that Science textbook.” She raised one eyebrow at him.

“Damn. I thought I’d get away with that.” The Liar looked off to the side in consternation. “C’mon, just tell me your name!”

Rolling her eyes one last time, she answered, “Michele.”