by Amy Barrett
***
The wolves were raging around the house. They had agreed to letting Nick help, but they were far from happy about it. From the grumbles, Nick heard them curse Abyzou as “the demon whore”. He told himself that he agreed with them and she was most likely worse things as well.
Abyzou had taken the knife and retreated outside. She may be brave, but Nick had warned her not to stay in a den full of pissed off wolves. The angel had gone up stairs a while ago when his phone had rung, and he had gone to take it. He had told Nick to wait. They needed to discuss hunting demons and he wanted Nick to be clear on when it was and wasn’t okay to let the monster out. Nick had swallowed this order like a tablet without water. He then tried to smile at Zerachiel but his face nearly broke. Who was this guy to tell Nick how to handle his own life? Granted if the past was anything to go by Nick needed to work on controlling the gargoyle but this angel knew nothing about him, and Nick was finding it hard to take orders from a stranger.
“Problem?” The angel had challenged. His body hadn’t relaxed since he had arrived at the den. His muscles were visible through the tight t-shirt he wore, and Nick was sure you could have broken noses on his abs they were so tense.
He put on the best smile he could. “No.”
Zerachiel offered a similarly disappointing smile back. “Good. That means we are on the same page.”
Then Zerachiel’s phone had interrupted the fascinating discussion and after making Nick swear to stay put, he headed up the steps, stomping them two at a time.
Since then, Nick had been waiting for him. He had become bored. On two or three occasions he had counted the cracks on the wall but now he was sure that there were twenty-two of them.
Nick wandered up the stairs. “Zerachiel?” No answer. The stairs moaned but that was the only sound. Nick was up into the hallway before he heard the voice.
“I just have some more stuff to do here first.”
Nick crept towards the source. The door was cracked open and inside, Zerachiel stood looking out the window. He had the phone to his ear and his shoulders were dropped down. Through the back of the thin t-shirt, Nick saw the mangled remains of the wing. Pieces of thin bone stabbed into each other and feathers were held in place by the clothing alone. Nick felt the beast inside him growl with victory. The human version of him felt sick.
“I know.” Zerachiel gulped and rolled his shoulders. “I l- lo-“ Zerachiel choked on the air, a half cough that broke his voice. “I have to go.” He sounded distant, like he was speaking without being present in his body. “I will say it back when I see you on your birthday. That will be my gift for you.” He laughed without substance. Zerachiel moved until he was facing the door and Nick slipped further behind the frame.
Zerachiel slid to the floor. Sitting against the wall, he rested his unoccupied hand on his knee.
“Before you go,” he whispered down the phone. His voice wobbled. “I miss you.” It was said simply. It had been said a million times before by a million people and it didn’t say all that Nick thought the angel wanted it to. Zerachiel’s face was pale and tired. He didn’t cry, but his lips strained into a thin line. He moved the phone a fraction from his mouth and took a shaky breath. Then he brought it back.
“Bye.” Zerachiel hung up the phone and let the hand holding it drop to his side. Sudden tears rocked through him and slid down his face. Nick was stunned. He couldn’t move. All he wanted at that second was to leave and forget he had seen any of it. Remembering meant knowing that it wasn’t just his happiness he had to fight for. Remembering meant more of the pressure. It also meant knowing that this guy he had hurt wasn’t just an angel, he was a person with a life. Nick’s chest started to hurt.
Zerachiel gasped a few times then he stood. He dusted off his jeans and drew on his jacket. The damaged wing was concealed, and the angel appeared as a warrior again. Nick scattered from the door to the top of the stairs. When Zerachiel emerged, Nick made as if he was just walking up the final steps at that moment.
“Where have you been?” Nick asked.
“Nowhere.” Zerachiel passed him on the stairs. He pressed himself against the wall as he went by, keeping a generous distance between his body and Nick’s. “I just had to tell someone something.”
The angel sped down the steps and into the main room. He yelled for Nick to hurry up, so Nick trailed after him.
When they got to the room, the wolves had gathered around the door and had made a semicircle barrier before Zerachiel.
“We need to know that you are up to the job.” One of the wolves paced and bared his teeth at Zerachiel.
“Get out of my way.” Zerachiel shoved past him but the wolf recovered fast. Rebounding off his friends he squared up to Zerachiel.
“We need to know that you can protect our leader.” The man looked Zerachiel head to toe. “That’s what you wing boys do, yea?”
“That’s not my job.” Zeracheil tried to pass him but was blocked by the pack. They were a wall of exposed teeth and rigid muscle.
Nick came forward. “Guys let him go. We’ve got this.”
The man looked at Nick but decided on protecting the leader rather than following him. “At the end of the day.” He moved until his face was almost against Zerachiel’s. His shoes scuffed the ground, leaving white marks on it. “We need him to come back more than anyone needs you.” Nick cringed.
Zerachiel took the verbal blow without flinching. This seemed to anger the man further.
“You got that feather boy?” he yelled. His spit landed on Zerachiel’s face. Nick saw the shiny blobs quiver in the breeze. He was starting to worry that the angel was just going to stand around and take abuse.
Nick was preparing to speak again but first the man swung a fist for Zerachiel’s stomach. Nick raced forward to stop him from hurting the angel.
Zerachiel caught the hand before it reached its target. He spun it left a few degrees. His fist came down with swift pressure and a crack rippled from the man’s wrist. He howled as if a full moon had emerged and jabbed his foot out at Zerachiel’s legs. Nick knocked it back with his own foot. Zerachiel recoiled from Nick like he was a leper before tripping the man up and knocking him onto his ass. Nick glared down at him.
Zerachiel wiped his face with his jacket sleeve.
The man jumped to his feet again. He thrust his foot out and it thumped onto Zerachiel’s shin. Nick was ready to apologise but the word “I’m” had hardly emerged before he noticed that the angel wasn’t in pain. The man watched Zerachiel in disbelief when the angel did not react.
Faster than Nick could blink, Zerachiel drew his sword from the sheath at his side and sliced the man’s arm open. A thin river of blood emerged and birthed estuaries down his shirt. The man yowled and whimpered.
The others moved out of Zerachiel’s way as he made for the door. They were whispering and fell silent when Zerachiel looked at them. Nick crouched beside the injured man. He wanted to slap him but that would not have been the actions of the saviour. Instead he used his hand to try to put pressure on the cut. He called for someone to get a cloth.
“Guess he’s up to it,” one of the she-wolves said. She scanned Zerachiel’s lithe form while he pulled the door open.
Zerachiel paused and looked over his shoulder. The injured man was glaring at him from the floor.
Zerachiel turned from him and left one remark behind him as he left. “Save your voice, there’s no full moon tonight”.
Nick nursed the man for as long as he could. Then he left him in the care of some of the pack and he went outside to find Zerachiel. The night was dull, and Nick had to focus to make out the figures of Abyzou and Zerachiel leaning against the wall. Abyzou’s teeth shone through the dark as she grinned upon seeing Nick. A car horn blared but aside from that the area was silent. Zerachiel straightened up when he noticed Nick. The angel grimaced as his sore back scraped the wall.
The moon was peeking at them from behind a lump of cloud, waiting for the time w
hen she could come out and watch in full view. Clouds were thrown around by the wind and clung to one another for support.
Zerachiel opened his mouth to speak and Nick swung his fist and smacked the angel’s jaw. Some of Nick’s skin was ripped away by Zerachiel’s teeth. The pain burnt into Nick’s hand and he receded with a thumping ache in his knuckle.
Zerachiel on the other hand just looked shocked. His face was not red where impact had been made and his eyes were not dazed.
Nick’s hand pulsed in protest.
“Shit.” Nick shook his hand out. He worked to calm his breath. If he let himself lose control, the gargoyle may rear its head and finish this dispute.
Zerachiel rubbed his jaw. “When you are just a man, I will win every time.”
Nick’s hand was visibly swelling, as if he had punched a wall. “You can’t go around attacking the pack.”
“You all heal quickly. He will be fine,” Zerachiel said.
Nick shook his head. “The pack are under my protection and I won’t be held responsible for what happens if you attack them.” He tried not to fuss over his hand too much while making this threat. It might take away from it.
Zerachiel reared up like a cobra. Nick was just as tall as him, so it was difficult to achieve a height advantage, but he managed to seem bigger somehow. Nick did not cower away from the white light rampaging in the angel’s eyes. Puffs of each of the mens breath met between them and battled until they dissipated. Nick would be damned if he let anyone, angel or not push him and his pack around.
Zerachiel ground his teeth. “I am sure that killing the pack is reserved only for you.”
Nick flinched. The words made the constant coil of shame in his chest pull tighter. The image of that girl’s body being beaten and verbally abused flashed in his mind.
Zerachiel spat his words out like poison. “Until the time when you stop killing your pack, I won’t take a lecture about not hurting them.”
Nick sensed Abyzou moving beside them and soon she was shoving them apart. “We can work on killing each other once our problem demon is dead.”
The wind blew her scent up Nick’s nose and he used it to shift his focus from Zerachiel to her. He hated Abyzou but at that moment he was more likely to attack Zerachiel.
Abyzou dropped her arms which had been wedged between them. “Now that that is sorted out.” She walked over to the wall and leaned against the grey bricks. “Maybe we can return to the problem at hand.”
Nick let out a low growl and moved to his own space. He was maybe a bit closer to Abyzou than Zerachiel, but he kept a distance from both. He didn’t trust either of them and wouldn’t put it past them to try and kill him when he wasn’t looking.
“Where are the other two?” Abyzou asked.
Zerachiel sighed and rubbed his face. His hands left pink heat marks on his cheeks. “That’s a good question. Ivan took off and I think he took Ciara with him.”
Abyzou shrugged. “We can explain all of it to them when they get back.”
“All of what?” Nick squinted at her.
“What to look out for.” Abyzou bent down and picked up a gym bag. The fabric strained with the weight. The Nike logo on the front was faded and crumbling.
“These are the weapons that all demons have.” She unzipped the bag. The sharp sound drowned out Zerachiel’s tense breathing.
Abyzou reached in and summoned her demons’ chains. The links clinked against one another. The sight of them made Zerachiel shuffle from one foot to the other and fold his arms.
Abyzou held the chains in both hands and stretched them out for the boys to view. They were silver with a dark halo around them that none of them could focus on. “These are demon chains. They are used for sending people back to hell.” She swung them around her head and the boys backed away from the arch of silver. “If you are killed by these, or die while in contact with them, you will go to hell after you die.” She set them down and Zerachiel exhaled with relief.
Next, she produced the knife. Nick’s hand twitched when the emerging moon winked off the blade. Abyzou twirled the knife around in her hand. She was like a well practiced circus performer.
“This is a hells blade. It will kill any living thing, even angels.” She gave a pointed look at Zerachiel. “However, if you die by this you will not go to hell.” She tossed it between her hands.
“Wanna be more careful with the deadly weapons?” Nick leaned away from her as the blade spun from one palm to the other. He didn’t need to die before he ever faced Mephistopheles.
Abyzou laughed. “Relax. I know what I am doing.”
She offered it out to the boys so they could take a look.
The wind ruffled Nick’s hair. “Can they both kill our problem demon?”
Abyzou nodded. “But beware. Mephistopheles is an old demon.” She began tying back her dark hair. “His skills will be impressive. We need to be smart about this. He might not even use weapons; his claws could take you out as well.”
Zerachiel’s hand shook and his teeth mashed together. “Demons shouldn’t be here in the first place,” he uttered.
Abyzou looked at him from under her eyelashes. Nick could imagine that she was just as unhappy about working with an angel as the angel was about working with her. She said nothing.
The more that Nick watched the two of them, the less hope he had. If he hated Zerachiel and vice versa, then the same was true between the angel and the demon. How on earth were they going to fight a powerful demon together?
***
Ivan was so relaxed, his limbs felt loose. After karaoke, he had convinced Ciara to stay a bit longer. He knew that the others would be waiting for them. He wanted to leave them waiting as long as he could.
The bar was quietening down now. It was the early hours of the morning and still dark outside. Only the occasional holler came out of the Jesus character on the right corner of the bar. Aside from that, a fan hummed, and the bartender sighed. Most the lights in the place were turned off, so that the bar was the only section of the room which was in a spotlight. Ivan liked it. He was sitting at the bar with a class of water in his hand. A layer of sweat covered his skin and made him shiver. His hair was standing on end and his forehead was rested on the bartop. Ciara was next to him. She was looking around herself occasionally wiping her brow or licking her lips.
Ciara started to drum her feet against the wooden base of the bar.
“We should get back,” she said between thumps.
Ivan shook his head without lifting it. “No, don’t fancy it yet.”
Ciara rubbed her lips together. She moved a bit closer to Ivan and though he couldn’t see her, he felt her breath touch his ear. “Ivan, we need to help them. They will be wondering where we got to.”
Ivan raised his head to answer and he caught sight of his old enemy. She was standing there invisible to the humans, but Ivan could see her. She was unchanged like a statue. She did not smile at him.
“You’re right.” He passed Ciara and made for the door. His feet moved at double time. The reaper saw his escape attempt. She appeared right before him and clawed into his arm.
“Ouch,” he moaned, “Death grip much?”
“You can’t run from this.” Her eyes were stern, and her brows were pinned low.
“Yea I forgot you can teleport.”
Without warning, the reaper grabbed Ivan’s chin and twisted his face to look towards the bar. Jesus was still getting wasted. His beard had pieces of chicken wing stuck in it and his face was flushed with alcohol. Over the shoulder of his aged coat, a grey shape loomed. Ivan could swear it was a spirit, but they were silver and brilliantly bright. This thing was grey with ripples of black passing through it. Its hands hovered above Jesus’s head.
“What is that?” Ivan asked. His lips were squeezed from the sides, so he sounded strange
“That is a vengeful spirit.” She let go of him and his face dropped suddenly.
“A spirit who is having a bad day?” As
Ivan spoke, he had to raise his voice over Jesus coughing.
“No. A spirit who has not been reaped. A spirit you left behind.”
Ivan gestured to the spirit, which was now standing within the bar which Jesus was leaned over. “It got a colour change. He is an individual now.”
The reaper smiled. “Just look.” She used her chin to gesture to Jesus.
Ivan watched as Jesus gulped his pint. The grey shape rippled in the bar. It lifted one blurry hand until it was level with Jesus’s face. Jesus opened his mouth for another sip, and the spirit shoved its hand right into his gaping mouth and through his throat. Jesus began to cough. He was turning purple and the bar tender was shouting about calling an ambulance. Ciara’s voice thumped in Ivan’s temples as she talked hurriedly on the phone, telling someone where they were. Jesus’s body jerked and tumbled from the stool. As his thick form rattled the ground Ivan saw images of another man who had fallen in a similar way. Jack Meany. Suddenly the man became a product of both. He had Jack’s face and Jesus’s beard. Ivan did his best to shake the memory. Jesus was rocking side to side with little life left in him.
While all the humans rushed to the old man’s side, Ivan knew better. There was nothing they could do for him.
Ivan jumped when the reaper beside him chuckled. “They do have style, don’t they?”
Ivan put on his grin. “Yea maybe I should just let them be.” There was a twisting feeling in his stomach as he remembered the tiny voice calling to her daddy. He needed to forget about the humans. He had served them long enough. He deserved to be free.