Secrets Exposed

♡

Outside Nora's office window, the trees burned, caught in the gaze of the mid-afternoon sun. Their coppery canopies swayed like flame.

Nora pulled her cardigan across herself as a breeze from the window poured into the office, depositing the scent of wet leaves at her doorstep.

She brought a mug to her lips, savoring the taste of her chai latte as cardamon, cinnamon and clove danced on her tongue. Then she glanced at the mug, stroking the baked clay, the green squiggles wrapped around its bottom that Marina had sworn were seaweed, making her smile.

What they really looked like were limp, painted spaghetti noodles but Nora had kept that to herself. Marina'd been proud of the ocean floor scene she'd crafted and Nora'd been grateful Marina'd made it with her in mind.

"That's cute." Ivan peered over the divide between their desks, nodding at the mug. "Niece or nephew make that?"

Nora shook her head, taking another long sip of latte, the steamed milk settling on her tongue before she swallowed. "No."

She felt Ivan's gaze on her, the intensity of their eyes cutting through her. "Someone you cared about made it though, yeah?" They ran fingers through the mess of grey gathered atop their head.

"Yeah," she said.

"And what's this person-"

Just as Ivan was about to cross into nosy co-worker territory, Melbrooke shuffled out of her office like a thirsty vampire tired of their coffin and in need of fresh blood.

Light splashed across her face emphasizing the hollows beneath her eyes, and one very tight mouth. She was more groused than usual, her pinned back hair sloppy, her shirt untucked. Nora counted three wrinkles on the front of her trousers and a small scuff mark on the toe of her shoe.

The way she glared made Nora shiver. Suddenly, the blessing of her corner desk transformed into a curse, its three walls preventing a simple escape as Mel stomped toward them.

Ivan gulped before slinking back into their seat. "Look like you're working," they whispered. The frantic tapping of someone purposely trying to make themselves appear busy followed their words.

Nora sighed and fingered her own keyboard, striking the space bar. "I have been working," she muttered under her breath, her screens a convincing argument for the opposite.

On one, Nora had a search engine open, which given her job was appropriate, but could be misused during business hours. On the other, she had a document open, the white space staring back at her as the cursor blinked mockingly. Quickly Nora clicked to bring up a client's file, opening it to the details page. She leaned in close to look like she was really scouring the document. Ivan continued clacking away.

"Miss Campbell," Mel said. She stood at the corner of Nora's desk, her fingers wrapped over the partition wall, knuckles pale, her mouth a down-turned sign of Nora's future misery.

Nora blew out. "Afternoon, Mel." She stopped what she was doing and swiveled around to face the older woman. The palms of her hands went sweaty, while the rest of her turned ice cold. "Can I help you with something?"

Her brow furrowed. "Mr. Archer would like to see you." She kicked the edge of Nora's desk. "He knows I have things to do and yet he uses me like I'm his personal delivery system." She frowned. "That's what Breeze is for."

"Mr. Archer wants to see me?"
Nora's insides turned to goop before dropping into her shoes.

Why would he want to see her? Performance reviews were done by the department heads and she'd been meeting if not exceeding goals across the board. Had she drawn his ire somehow?

"Yeah, Nora." Mel closed her eyes, her jaw set. "Don't know why. Bizarro angel keeps to himself, mostly." She turned, but not before supplying Nora with an exhausted glance. "Best not to keep him waiting, though. He's particular about what he does with his time."

"But I-" She glanced at her screens, pointing at her client file. "I have to work on finding employment for-"

"Mz. Breeze is waiting for you in the hall." Mel raised a weary hand toward the front office doors. "Don't keep them waiting. They might take one of their heels and shove it-" She clicked her tongue, before jerking her hand upward. "Where the sun don't shine."

Nora could take a hint. "Got it."

With that, Mel dragged herself back into the dark recesses of her office, while Nora stared at the doors. Mz. Breeze was waiting. Mr. Archer wanted to see her. Why of all times would he-

Her eyes drifted over her screen, down onto her desk, finally landing on her mug. Her and Marina. Of course. It all made sense. Two of Seraphim's employees dating was a clear violation of corporate policy.

It'd only been a month and things were going so well with Marina, Nora'd forgotten about that pesky, nonsensical rule. And about the disciplinary action outlined in the handbook which was-

"-termination," Nora said and sighed. With the weight of her impending doom bogging down her shoulders, she trudged out of the office and into the hall.

Mz. Breeze wore all black. Appropriate, given today Nora's career would be on the executioner's block. Their lips were dusted in black shimmer, cheeks and lips tinted blood-red.

When they saw Nora, they acknowledged her with a tight smile before rounding on their heels and moving toward the elevator. Like it had been the last time Nora followed Mz. Breeze, they didn't wait for her, or match her pace.

They moved forward, head held high, completely unfazed by their surroundings.

"I've heard reports our devs aren't getting your input on HEA as frequently as before," they said, examining Nora from up high on six-inch metallic heels.

Nora fingered one of the opalescent buttons on her cardigan. "Mm-hmm."

"Melbrooke speaks highly of you."

Nora's eyebrows arched.

Mz. Breeze snorted. "You're surprised your superior has good things to say about you?"

In a moment of honesty, Nora shook her head yes. Mz. Breeze slicked back a piece of hair. "And you openly admit to it, too. You must really want to commit career suicide."

Hadn't Nora done that already? Wasn't that what this whole meeting was about? Her dating Marina, her violating Seraphim's rules; her getting fired after a month of work? At the very least, she'd made it past the first two weeks which was a record for her.

Mz. Breeze swept into the elevator first, Nora stumbling in after. She pressed her eyes closed and braced for the ascent.

*

Mr. Archer perched on the corner of his desk, the doors to his balcony shut tight. No scents of fall flooded the space, only artificial air blew through the vents masquerading as natural. But it was too clean, dust-free and hygienic to be mistaken for real, city air.

Golden hair trailed over Mr. Archer's ears and in front of his eyes, obscuring his expression. Not that seeing him any clearer would have benefited Nora any; Mr. Archer was impossible to read.

Without looking up from a heap of papers, he motioned for Nora to sit. She made to move, but then froze, realizing that Mz. Breeze remained glued to the spot next to the elevators.

"This is going to be messy," they said, reaching into their pants' pocket to pull out a long, hand-rolled cigarette. They put it between their lips before making for the balcony, leaving Nora to stew in their ominous last words.

This was going to be messy? What did they think she would cry? Fight for her job? Nora had done this to herself, and she would suffer the consequences.

Nora straightened, hands balled into fists at her sides as she made her way over to Mr. Archer.

Lamplight stained his face a melted gold as he continued scanning the pages strewn before him. He chewed on the cap of a pen, brow pinched, totally engrossed. Nora almost felt bad for intruding, but then again, she wasn't the one who'd done the summoning; he'd summoned her.

"Sit, Miss Campbell."

He gave not a glance or nod Nora's way. She complied, taking the seat she'd sat in for her interview, feeling much the same way - a wrack of nerves and nausea. Her confusion wasn't present though; Nora knew why he'd called her here and that it was only a matter of time before the axe fell.

Finally, Mr. Archer shuffled aside the papers. With his fingers steepled, he looked up at Nora. "You've acclimated well to Seraphim?"

Nora nodded.

"You like the work? The people? The cafes?"

"Ev-ev-everything's great," her voice cracked, "There's a lot of friendly people in Relocations."

He leaned back, chin resting on his fingers. "I hear you have your first client."

"Ms. Fleurfyre." Nora pulled on her cardigan, stretching it over her thighs. "Just moved here after hearing good things from her son and son-in-law."

Mr. Archer stood, his gaze never leaving Nora's face. Suddenly, she felt like a rat cornered, or like she was one step away from springing a trap. The beginnings of sweat congregated along her hairline.

"Of course she has. We," he tightened his tie knot, "at Seraphim have worked a great deal to ensure the hospitality of this city extends to both majjos and humans." His eyes narrowed. "Do you know, Miss Campbell, what hard work entails?"

For starters, not slacking on the things you agreed to not do in your contract. Nora gulped.

She leaned into the seat, wanting nothing more than to be the girl she'd been in her teens. The one who could press herself in the walls, or against a row of lockers, close their eyes and travel through the world ignored. But Mr. Archer's gaze was piercing, perceptive, and it was aimed her way. "Diligence," she said. "Commitment. Passion."

He nodded. "Honesty as well." He leaned over her, the smell of tobacco filling up Nora's nostrils. With a hand, he slid a paper her way. "One must face their work honestly." He tapped his desk. "So--"

Nora shot to her feet. "I'm sorry." She shook her head and bowed deeply. Mr. Archer leaned back, head tilted. "I know I broke my contract. And I'm aware of Seraphim's policies and despite knowing all that I still put my job in jeopardy by--"

Mr. Archer settled a hand on Nora's shoulder and gently pressed her back into her seat. She exhaled. "Calm down, Miss Campbell. I'm afraid I don't understand what you're talking about."

She eyed the paper under his palm and pointed. "That's my termination, isn't it?" His eyebrows raised. "Because you found out about Marina and I. Seraphim policy states all inter-personal relationships result in termination."

To Nora's surprise, Mr. Archer chuckled. "Goodness, Miss Campbell. I did not call you here to fire you for simply fraternizing with Miss Carpenter."

Nora felt her eyes bulge. "Then what--"

"I guess Gabe was right," his gaze drifted toward the balcony where Mz. Breeze stood against the railing, back to the sun, breathing smoke into the sky, "If I'd been honest from the start, such misunderstandings wouldn't have happened." He ran fingers through his hair.

"What misunderstandings?"

"Miss Campbell--" He stood, grabbed one of her hands, then flashed her the brightest, warmest smile. Uncertainty skirted up Nora's spine. "I'm a fan." Though it should have been impossible, his smile spread. "Your fan."

Nora blinked. Not once. Or twice. Or several times. She blinked for what felt like a solid five minutes as she sat there wondering if she'd misheard him. Mr. Archer was a fan. Of hers. Her what? Her tenacity? Her life choices? It couldn't be her blog, could it? Did an eons old angel read her blog? Was he invested in the love failings of a human?

She shook her head. No way. There was no way.

As if responding to her thoughts, Mr. Archer started, "I've been following your story for a while and I must admit, I've derived a great deal of pleasure reading about Winter's dating escapades," he leaned against his desk, hands wrapped around its edges, "but I've always wanted Winter to find her happiness, in whatever shape that took for her."

When his gaze met Nora's she felt like she was staring into a sun burning its hottest. "I have resources available to me if I wish to uncover a person's true identity, and when I learned of who Winter was, well, I couldn't help fast-tracking your interview process," his fingers plucked at the cuff of his shirt, "though I shouldn't have insisted upon you like I did."

He lowered his head. Freed of his gaze, Nora exhaled. "My apologies. Gabe warned me I would come off too strong, that I would scare you away, but I couldn't help wanting to meet you. The Winter Green. At my company, in my office, desiring a job. It was too good to be true."

"Then--" Nora eyed the paper. "If that's not my termination, what is it?"

"Oh?" Mr. Archer looked down as though he'd forgotten about the paper, his cheeks turning the slightest bit pink. Had Nora seen correctly? Had her eyes deceived her, or had Mr. Archer seriously blushed?

With deft fingers, he turned the paper over, revealing it was blank. He pulled a pen from his pocket and pried off the cap. "I was hoping for an autograph."

Nora gaped as she stared at the paper. At the pen extended her way. At the angel across from her clamoring for an autograph.

Mr. Archer snickered, waving the pen in her face. "It's best not to keep an angel waiting."

"Ah," she said, snapping free of her temporary paralysis. "Right. Can't waste away those eternities."

He plucked at the cuff of his shirt. "Certainly, not."

Hesitantly, she took it and set the tip to paper. "Should I," she slashed the paper by accident, staining it deep blue, "should I sign my actual name or Winter's?"

"Your preference, Miss Campbell."

Nora chose her real name, and then grimaced as she eyed her signature. There was no flourish to it, no individuality. Just a bunch of crudely drawn, indecipherable lines.

Despite how awful it looked, Mr. Archer took care to roll it up, before placing it in his breast pocket. "Thank you," he said, eyes swimming with sincerity.

She nodded. "So," her teeth pressed into her bottom lip, "you know about me? You've known about me, and you know about Marina and--"

"Of course. I told you to go for it, after all."

Wait. What?

"When have you--"

"On Twitter, you asked for advice, something I discerned you wouldn't have done if you weren't interested in Miss Carpenter and--"

"You're WingedDevil?" Nora's voice rose in decibels like her brain had run it through a wall of amplifiers before it'd left her mouth.

Mr. Archer grinned. "A bit of a misdirect, I know, but yes I am."

"What about breaking corporate policy?"

At this, he stuck a finger into the air. "I am corporate policy," he corrected.

"Then--"

He placed his hands on his thighs. "You are happy, yes, Miss Campbell?"

She blinked. "Happy?"

"Yes, humans desire love and happiness to provide their brief life spans some sort of meaning, correct?"

"I suppose." She shrugged.

"Then are you happy with Miss Carpenter?"

Nora blushed, her fingers clenching and releasing in her lap. "I'm--" she gulped. "I am happy." A weight Nora hadn't realized she'd been carrying suddenly lifted. Her words weren't lies, not this time.

"Then don't worry about your contract." Mr. Archer whirled, fingering one of the books on his bookshelf. Runes decorated its spine. Flashing Nora a sideways glance, he added, "thank you for the autograph, Winter. I hope this newly discovered happiness of yours lasts."

With that, Mr. Archer ushered her from his office, where she was free to return to her desk, job intact.

Mr. Archer. Michael Archer, Seraphim's CEO and fallen angel, was a Winter fan. And he, just like Lore, wanted her to find happiness. Maybe that's what they did with their eternities. They found someone to root for, a secret guardian angel, looking out for the person's best interest. She owed him more than an autograph, but for now it'd have to be enough.

Hunched over her desk, she opened her notebook and began jotting her name down, alternating between Nora and Winter, being careful with the lines, trying to make every letter neater, easier to read. She dotted the 'i' in Winter with a heart, turned the 'o' in Nora into a crescent moon.

Next time, if Mr. Archer decided he wanted another autograph, she'd give him one that reflected her journey and consisted of all the steps she'd taken, and some she still had to take, as she continued chasing her moon.

#wellthatwasdifferent #notsurewhathappened #notfired #guardianangels #nowords #mindblown

Total Word Count: 25,591