by Skyler Andra
It was touch and go when it came to the human descriptions, but with Raff in hiding, it was all I had at my disposal to find him. The believers didn’t know what he looked like in angel form, and it wasn’t like the guy was throwing off grace to give us any clue. We had blended with the humans so perfectly it was like we weren’t angels at all. We had done that for our own safety.
When a call came in from Silas, a source in Sterling City, hope had flared to life within my chest. My mind rewound to the conversation we’d shared while I was out buying groceries for the soup kitchen.
“I think I found the flowers your wife likes,” Silas said.
My heartbeat thundered like a pack of wild mustangs. “Are you sure?”
“The description fits,” he said. “Wild roses from upstate with darkened edges. Grown under lamps. Expensive to buy. You want to order a bunch?”
All code. We couldn’t risk Luc or any of his minions listening in on our conversations. Raff equaled the roses. Luc equaled the darkened edges. What were they doing spotted together? Don’t fucking tell me Raff had switched sides.
“Of course,” I said a little too eagerly. “Where shall I send payment?”
“555 Halton Avenue, Laffing Waters,” Silas said. “Make the check out to Empress Express Flowers. Sixteen hundred and thirty dollars.”
An address and time.
“Thanks, man.” I blew out a long breath and smiled. “Appreciate it.”
“Any time, your holiness.”
The line went dead, leaving me listening to the beeping on the end of the line. Holiness. Fuck, it had been a long time since someone had referred to me as that. My chest swelled at the way the believer had addressed me with fitting reverence. I’d been acting like one of the humans for so long it was weird to be singled out as different again. Maybe it was a good idea to remember who we were.
Then the practical side of me kicked in. Silas shouldn’t have said it. Using titles like that might blow our cover. I’d warn him when we met up.
I checked the address Silas had supplied. Thirty minutes away according to the GPS on my phone. Within Sterling City’s limits. We could make that before it turned dark and all the nasty rats poured out of their holes: the hopeless drunks, the pricks looking for fights, the creeps out to rape woman. I’d cleansed thousands in my time, yet they still kept coming out.
My mind flung back to the present. No way in hell would I ignore another report of Raff, even if it turned out to be a dead end. Come hell or high water I was finding him, or at least discovering what had happened to him. That’s why I’d ordered Zak to come with me.
Good old times.
God, I hoped this wasn’t another dead lead. I don’t think I could take another one.
My bike kicked forward as I cranked the throttle and navigated out of the alley next to Uri’s building and onto the main street. Behind me, Zak kept close, as evidenced by his reflection in my side mirror. We weaved our bikes through the afternoon traffic, made up mostly of school buses dropping off kids and teens at their homes. It slowed our journey somewhat, and I started to sweat that my contact might think we weren’t coming and leave.
Twenty minutes later, we drove into Laffing Waters. Talk about an even shittier part of town than Uri’s neighborhood. Rundown and neglected didn’t even cover it. This place looked like a true war zone. Burned car shells were abandoned along the roads. Wooden panels covered practically every window. Houses with crumbling roofs and walls stood next to demolished building sites with rubble piled up everywhere. Shady looking people, with guns and knives stuck down the front of their pants, scurried about, hollering at one another. This place gave off bad vibes. The perfect kingdom for Luc to feed on darkness.
I thought about the shitty motels we had spent time in. It was easier to blend in among people who didn’t ask questions. Maybe that was the point of Raff hiding in a place like this.
Zak and I pulled our bikes into the empty underground car park, and the noise of the engines rumbled like thunder due to all the concrete. I climbed off my bike and removed my helmet.
Pigeons cooed from the ceiling above. Crusty bird shit covered the entire floor. Gas stained the concrete. Almost every pillar was marked with the letter B with a crown on top, symbolic of the Bandits gang.
“Fuck,” Zak said as his boots crunched over the floor. “This place is a pig sty.”
Sure was. Maybe we should keep our engines running in case we needed to make a quick getaway. I didn’t like this place one bit, even less so knowing it was Bandit territory.
Leaning against the nearest column, I pulled out my lighter, flicking open the lid. I scrolled the ignition and the flame sprang up. I snapped the lid shut and clicked it open, repeating the motion to calm my nerves.
After five minutes of waiting, Zak said, “Where the hell is your contact?”
Good question. I glanced around the empty parking lot. Someone had moved iron bins and scrap wood and paper. Homeless people no doubt. Probably using it for heat during the cold nights.
Boots scraped on the concrete nearby as Silas shuffled out of his hiding spot behind one of the bins. Zak and I snapped to attention, muscles coiled, ready to act if the need arose.
“Got those flowers you ordered.” Silas’s deep brown eyes darted from left to right. I didn’t blame him for being nervous. I half expected some prick wielding a gun or machete to charge out from somewhere screaming at us to get out of their town.
My human contact had lost about twenty pounds since we’d last met up six months ago. The skin beneath his eyes had sunken. His hair had thinned. All signs of a stressed man. I bristled. Had he been infected by the darkness? God help us if Luc had gotten to him.
Alert and wound tight, Zak and I walked up to him.
“The misses will love the flowers,” I said, shaking my contact’s hand.
Silas cupped his other hand over mine. “Holiness.”
Zak huffed. “Don’t know about holy. He’s been sinning a lot lately. Definitely has a holier than thou attitude, though.”
His assessment couldn’t have been more wrong. Out of all the angels, I tried to remain true to my mission and myself. I attempted to keep my warriors in line despite the darkness slowly infecting us all and motivate them to keep their light and spirits high so they didn’t succumb to the darkness. But maybe that was my shortcoming. If Zak’s assessment was right, then I sucked at my job and it was time to give up.
“Shut the hell up, why don’t you?” I snapped.
Zak chuckled darkly. Judging by the way his eyes narrowed at me, he didn’t like being told what to do. Well, I didn’t appreciate the criticism. But, I reasoned, that’s what angels did. We reflected the humans’ shortcomings, giving them the opportunity to learn from their shadow side, to either continue down that path into darkness or to transform and grow into the better side of themselves. Maybe I should be thankful for Zak’s words. Nah. Look who they were coming from. He wasn’t exactly perfect.
“This the place?” I asked Silas, ignoring the still glowering Zak.
“Yep.” Silas nodded.
I did a scan of his body. My grace reported various signs of fear—sweating, racing heartbeat, and a spike in adrenaline—but I detected no signs of deceit. I relaxed a little knowing he hadn’t screwed us over.
“Thanks for meeting me,” I said. “You can go now.”
Silas nodded and retreated.
“Fuck,” Zak said, pigeon shit crunching under our boots as we crossed to a stairwell.
Our footsteps echoed up the empty stairwell smothered in graffiti, rubbish, mud, and shit. We entered the first floor of an apartment complex, with a mechanical room, pipes, laundry facilities, and storage compartments. Everything had been trashed. Lids hung off washing machines that had taken a beating from a baseball bat or something. Wiring on the wall crackled. Thieves had stolen the copper wires and probably sold them, leaving the rest exposed where they could electrocute someone. Cracked pipes leaked water and god kno
ws what else. The place stunk of urine, mold, and stale air.
Jophiel would have loved working her magic on this place, but that would have been a waste. Some shitheads would have come back to destroy it.
“What a shithole.” Zak’s words echoed my thoughts exactly as we climbed another set of stairs.
We might have moved from motel to motel, with dirty showers and stains in the toilet bowls, but those places paled in comparison to this dump.
If Raff wanted to lay low, this was definitely the place to do so. Nerves pitted in my stomach, making me feel sick. Fuck, he better be here. I didn’t know how many more disappointments I could take. Zak was already tired of this tedious and repetitive task that yielded no results. Maybe I’d have to swallow my pride and admit defeat. But that was a big maybe.
“How do the humans live in this filth?” Zak sneered beside me.
“The people have lost hope,” I replied, examining the hell surrounding us as we reached the next floor. “The government doesn’t give a crap. Welfare’s all but gone, the money used to fund shady business deals that line the pockets of congressmen and mayors.”
Fuck, thinking about it reminded me how the world really had gone to the shit heap. My heart hardened a little more. Times like this made me want to throw in the towel. I wanted to retire from my position as Heaven’s lead warrior and go on a never-ending holiday. I’d cruise the galaxy in my light body and forget about this forsaken place. That’d be the life.
Mind you, Earth wasn’t alone in its position in the galaxy. A few worse places existed with the people under absolute servitude, slaves to ruling elite bloodlines. Once the angels saved this world, I had a feeling we were going to be posted in one of those places next.
Nope. No more missions for this general. I was tired of this shit. Time for someone else to take my place. Much as I hated the idea of handing over the title of Prince of Heaven, I needed a break.
We climbed three more sets of stairs, arriving at the fifth floor, where the carpet was so worn it showed the linoleum floor beneath. The walls were a butter yellow now crusted with nicotine and maybe piss. Music, TV, and shouting drifted from the occupied rooms.
I recalled Silas’ address instructions. 555 Halton Avenue. Apartment fifty-five, fifth floor. Continuing on, I searched for the apartment, locating it. Rap music blared so loudly from inside that I had to pound on the door a few times, nearly shaking it off its hinges, to get the attention of the room’s inhabitants.
My stomach bunched with the dread of failure. It had to be Raff. We had to find him.
Someone yanked the door open. “What the fuck do you want?”
Splinters cracked along the surface of my heart. Fuck. It wasn’t him.
The man that stood before me had the same description I had given Silas. Dark brown hair and emerald eyes, muscular and tall build. But he sported a scowl that Raff had never worn, and his face was imperfect, skewed, not the face of an angel but of another angry human bothered by strangers. No way would the darkness have changed Raff this way. My scan of his body revealed high levels of darkness, but no sign of grace. He was nothing more than a stinking rat.
When I said nothing, the guy repeated, “I said, what the fuck do you want?” He flexed his muscles in a jerky manner typical of their pained style of movement. If I wasn’t so fucking bummed, I’d have laughed at his pathetic attempt to intimidate me.
Dried flakes of faith peeled off my grace and piled at the bottom of my ribcage. Time to face it. Admit Raff was dead and give up on my search. I needed to save my energy for other pursuits that yielded better results.
“I think I have the wrong room,” I lamented.
“Yeah, I think so, too,” the guy said and stepped back, slamming the door.
I turned around, my chest tight, ready to leave the building. If Zak said one word, one fucking word, I’d slam his head through a wall.
“Wait a minute,” he said, brushing past me.
“Let’s just get out of here,” I called, not interested in what he had to say.
“Hell no.” Zak thumped on the door with his fist.
When the dick inside yelled, “Fuck off,” he lifted his leg and kicked the door off its hinges.
“What the fuck?” the occupant screamed, and I glared at Zak.
Trust him to want to wreck shit before he left. It was just like him to take out his frustration with violence, but that wasn’t how I worked. Rule number one: don’t draw attention to ourselves. Rule number two: act in self defense only.
“We’re leaving,” I snarled. I was in a shitty mood and ready to seize his head and do what I’d promised.
“Are you kidding?” Zak goaded me, not a smart move when I was wound up so tight and ready to snap. “That filthy rat is wearing Raff’s leather bracelet.”
“What are you on about?” I tried to make sense of his words but couldn’t when I was this emotional.
The rat inside stormed up to the now broken door, his shoulders hulking and twitching.
I glanced down at the braided leather bracelet with the green stone that he wore on his left wrist. “The company probably made thousands of them,” I said, cranky as fuck.
“Not with the angelic rune Ariel wrote on it.” Zak grabbed the rat by the throat and pinned him to the wall. “You better be ready to give us some answers, fucker.”
11
Jophiel
I rode a high after returning from the botanical gardens. Today had been beyond perfect, recharging me with renewed enthusiasm and providing a much-needed break from all the bleakness. I’d returned to Uri’s home practically soaring, desperately wanting to take to the air and experience the freedom only flying could provide.
Standing next to me at the kitchen bench, Uri announced, “Let me continue the lessons I gave you at the soup kitchen.”
“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent cook,” I said with a laugh. “I don’t need lessons from someone who doesn’t appreciate his food well done.”
“Well done?” He tossed his head back and laughed uncontrollably. When he finally calmed down, he said, “Try charred.”
I couldn’t stop grinning. This angel made me laugh. He brightened my day. I wanted to be around him at every moment, especially when he helped keep my darkness at bay.
“All right, hot shit,” he challenged. “Help me prepare this roast pork then. Show me your stuff.” He slapped me on the behind and gave me a brazen smile.
“Sure.” Preparing the food for the homeless people earlier today had been so rewarding and fulfilling, not only for their reactions when they ate the delicious soup and bread, but because of the gratitude in their hearts.
With this new opportunity to cook, I had a second chance to redeem my terrible effort from this morning. I could offer Mike and Zak a hearty, delicious meal when they returned to Uri’s apartment.
Thinking about this morning brought forth memories of the strange man writing notes and mumbling about angel’s blood. I hugged my arms to my waist. For some reason, I couldn’t get the man from the soup kitchen out of my head. He’d looked at me like he knew me. The image of his face, haggard and restless, was stuck in my mind and I couldn’t shake it. The words he’d spoken—angel’s blood—somehow resonated inside my grace, and I didn’t understand why. But I wanted to.
From the device Uri called a fridge, he removed three vegetables, one of which I recognized as a carrot from the meals I’d helped prepare this morning. To this he added another two orange foods.
“What are those?” I asked, trying to rid myself of the memory of the homeless man, his white eyes, and his words.
“This is pumpkin.” He held up the second orange vegetable, cut in half to reveal a hollow center with big, white seeds. “And this is a sweet potato.” He pointed at the third, which looked like a misshapen crescent moon.
“Good.” I closed my eyes and rubbed them, the image of the man’s white eyes still burning into my eyelids.
That’s enough, I told my mind.
I wanted to be present with Uri. To learn to cook. Not to fret over the homeless man. Standing beside the angel reminded me of the basic human needs: connection to another, a sense of participation, and appreciation for one’s contributions. Right now I needed that to escape this haunting memory.
Uri held up a bottle of something. “This is first, though,” he said. “We need to glaze the pork skin in oil. I’d give you a brush to do it, but I want to see you get your hands dirty.”
I blushed.
“Wash your hands.” He gestured to the sink.
I cleaned up as he’d asked. Then I stood beside him waiting for further instruction.
He removed the bottle’s lid and poured oil all over the skin. “Rub that in.”
I did as instructed, loving the slick and thick feeling of the oil between my fingers as I covered the meat.
“Fuck, that’s hot. Want to oil me up too?” He lifted his shirt to reveal a tightly toned torso that made my heart skip a beat.
“Concentrate.” I smiled, enjoying the flirting and building sexual tension between us.
He grabbed another container, twisted the top, and something inside it crunched, sprinkling over the meat’s surface. “I add salt to the skin to draw out the moisture and make it turn crunchy. Trust me when I say you’ll orgasm over the crackle.”
I arched an eyebrow. “That’s a big promise. Are you sure you can deliver?”
He came closer, and I stepped back thinking he wanted to add something else to the meat. Instead, he slipped between me and the bench, the heat between us sparking into a fire. “Oh, I’ll deliver on my promise.”
“I can’t wait to taste this crackle,” I said, assuming that was the word for the cooked skin.
Smiling, he leaned in to whisper in my ear, making a crack of lightning charge through me. “You might even have more than one orgasm.”
“Guess that means I’m getting two pieces then.” I moved to the sink and washed off the oil from my hands.