by Skyler Andra
“Breakfast is ready,” I announced to the sleeping pack of angels sprawled on the couches and floor.
Not one roused from their sleep.
Hmmm. Mike liked to get up at the crack of dawn to plan his day and train. Disciplined, that one. Zak, on the other hand, liked to sleep in late until 8AM, unless Mike kicked his bed to wake him up. I glanced over at the black wall clock. It read 11AM. Both of them had well overslept. Uri, well, I’d only met him last night and didn’t know of his sleeping habits. But if his drinking was anything to go by, I’d say he overslept until noon each day.
I might have to shake them awake. They seemed almost comatose thanks to the alcohol they had put into their bodies. First I crossed to Mike, leaning down to shake his arm. He groaned and his hooded eyes opened a crack. His lips stretched into a handsome and welcoming smile.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said, drawing a smile from me.
“I made breakfast,” I told him, tucking my blonde hair behind my ears.
“Oh.” He sat up, but swayed, grabbing his head. “God, I haven’t put away that much in a while.”
Our angelic bodies might be the closest things to heaven on this planet, but we still possessed human genetics and susceptibility to human weaknesses, such as pain, headaches, fatigue, and illness. An advantage of our different physicality meant we were able to heal much faster than the humans. If only we were resistant to the darkness…then maybe this war might not have dragged on for so long, tiring the angels and splitting them up.
Last night, the angels had convinced me to have an alcoholic drink with them. Not only did it taste vile—there were much better tastes in this world—but it impaired my abilities. It left my thinking slower, fuzzy, and not as sharp, and my reaction time was severely impaired. If demons had attacked us, we would have been vulnerable.
Uri had teased me, calling me a party pooper—whatever that meant—when I had first declined the angels’ offers for a second drink. Wanting to please and impress the seasoned warriors, I’d given in and accepted a second, and third, drink. But I’m glad I stopped at that. The headache those three drinks left me with was atrocious. I could only imagine how the rest of them felt, putting away one drink after the other. No wonder they were like statues, dead to the world.
Michael sat on the edge of the couch, rubbing his face, his breath tainted with the smell of beer. I ran a hand through his hair then moved on to Zak.
But Uri’s bright voice greeted me first. “Ah, the Fallen have awoken.”
I glanced over my shoulder, averting my gaze when his under shorts exposed his morning bulge.
“Morning,” I mumbled, heat building in my cheeks.
“Good morning,” he replied.
A little voice inside my head screamed at me to sneak another glance at his body and package, but I resisted.
Finding Uriel yesterday had thrilled me been beyond belief. The last week traveling with Zak and Mike had paid off. I had succeeded in part of my mission by bringing together three angels. I was relieved that we had come this far. Not to mention, seeing Uri dispel the darkness last night had been spectacular. As he had made quick work of those demons without our help, I thought we had found the strongest link in our group.
Until we had gone into the pub. Then I discovered he was just as adept at consuming alcohol as a human. Watching him drink, I realized that he did not commit himself only to one act, but to all of them. Although drinking that much was hardly noble.
When we had found Uri, I had been under the impression that we would jump headlong into this war and do what needed to be done. Instead, they had partied the night away, and I had to admit, I was a little disappointed. I wasn’t sure what exactly I had thought we would do, but sleeping in wasn’t quite what I’d had in mind.
“God, man.” Mike lifted a hand over his eyes. “Put that thing away.”
“What?” Uri said innocently. Then he glanced down at his generous sized appendage and grinned. “The good, old morning wood!”
He threw on a pair of sweatpants, muttering words like false teeth, granny underwear, and sharp teeth dragging along his cock. His erection went down pretty quickly after that.
“How did you sleep?” he asked Mike and I as he rubbed one eye then stretched and yawned.
“Fine, thanks,” I replied, the heat in my face dissipating.
“Like a baby,” Mike answered, his voice raspy from sleep. He stood and pressed a hand to my back. “But I could sleep another ten hours.”
“Son of a bitch, my head is killing me,” Zak’s groan interrupted us.
I curled my shoulders toward my ears at his harsh language.
He pressed a palm against his forehead. “Jojo, you’re lucky you didn’t drink a lot last night.”
Lucky? How did luck have anything to do with it? My head still pounded, and I felt dehydrated and queasy. I certainly wasn’t in optimal condition for finding the next angel.
“What smells good?” Uri sniffed the air.
“Smells burned,” Zak groaned, sitting up on his behind.
My excitement to make them breakfast sank to the bottom of my chest. Perhaps I should have stayed away from cooking when I wasn’t made for it.
“It’s fine. Some just stuck to the pan,” I told him, giving his shoulder a squeeze on my way past him to the table.
I poured Mike and Uri each a mug of coffee, giving one to our leader when he approached. But Uri entered the kitchen, retrieving a container of red juice from the cold box.
“Don’t you want coffee?” I asked him.
“Tomato juice is the perfect remedy for a hangover,” he announced, drinking it straight from the container rather than using a glass. He pulled a face once he swallowed. “Tastes like shit every time.”
I winced at his foul language. Although, the effect on my grace had lessened compared to when I’d first landed.
“But the Vitamin B does amazing things,” he continued.
So he had done this many times before.
“It’s not a perfect remedy,” he declared. “I’ll be suffering for at least half the day, but you know what they say.”
I shook my head. “No. What?”
He smiled a cheeky grin. “The hair of the dog that bit you.”
“What?” I leaned forward.
“You’ve not heard that?”
I shook my head as he raised his container of juice.
“The best remedy for a hangover is drinking more.”
2
Uriel
Jophiel stared at me like I’d grown devil horns. She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Eleven in the morning and you want to get drunk all over again?”
I admit it was crazy. After a night of drinking, I always felt like shit. Call it an occupational hazard. If I decided to put that much poison in my body, it was guaranteed I’d shit bricks the next day. Fact. I knew the risks. Hash tag reality and all that jazz.
But what she didn’t understand was that the reward was bigger. Alcohol equaled instant gratification. And seeing that nothing else here on Earth, save for sex, offered an immediate reward, alcohol was my drug of choice.
I laughed at her expression, carried the juice to the table, and sat opposite her. “I’m only kidding.”
She giggled back, a soft, cautious sound, and picked up her coffee mug. “Thank the Most High for that!”
I had come to Earth steadfast in my desire to make a difference. Hell, we all had. Our good old angelic naivety. It wasn’t long before Lucifer had split us up, busying us with never-ending shitty missions, which we should have anticipated, but we had been idiots. Since then, we’d been stuck on this god-awful planet with the humans who knew how to self-destruct with a fake smile.
So I had decided to follow suit. I was all about smiling while the ship went down. Happiness was my thing, and alcohol numbed me enough to smile through the pain. I may as well live up to my name, Fire of God, and be the life of the party, the one who brought light to a situation, the one who held t
he cheer in this depressing world.
Go figure.
At least after drinking for as long as I had, I was semi-immune to the shit. The downside was that I had to drink a hell of a lot more to get fucked and happy. The upside was that I didn’t die anymore the morning after.
Either that or I had become good at dying. Whichever.
Meh. We all had our vices. I didn’t judge. Whatever the angels needed to get through this godforsaken mission. The things we’d seen. The things we’d done. The things that haunted us every day.
Last night was good to get our drink on and forget about the war we were probably never going to win. I might be a look on the bright side kind of guy, but let’s get real. Every few days I fought off rats. Each time, they came in bigger and bigger droves. The darkness accelerated at a rate that us angels couldn’t keep up with. What little light my efforts contributed was quickly quashed by Luc’s swelling power. The sunshine I’d fostered over one half of Sterling City darkened by the day. It fucking made me feel useless and helpless, but I had to remind myself that I wasn’t the only one. We were all failing here.
Although, with Jophiel here, maybe it would be different. One could always hope, even if over the years my faith had been beaten down by too many defeats.
“My hangover cure isn’t an exact science,” I told her with a grin. “At some point, you have to sober up and suffer through the hangover. But it works for me in the interim.”
“Gimme some of that tomato juice.” Mike reached across the table, snatched the container from me, and gulped some down.
Poor fucker looked as horrible as I bet he felt. I almost felt sorry for the guy, but seeing him look like shit, his golden skin sullen and with those dark bags under his eyes, well, I sat straighter, feeling a little better. Now he was on my level. The level before I drank.
“That’s disgusting.” He slammed the container on the table.
I compared the general’s forearm to mine. About an inch thicker. Packed full of power. His shoulders were broader and more muscular than mine. Damn, he was fit from all the training he did. But that was what he was built for: protecting and defending.
Me, I contained the wisdom of the Most High, which was a punishment when nothing on this Earth made any sense.
I never understood why the Most High made Mike such a handsome bastard. Zak too. Woman fawned over them whenever we went out, as demonstrated by the way Jophiel looked at Mike now, admiring him, touching his arm, flirting with him.
“I don’t understand it,” she said, her eyes bright, smiling despite her confusion. Gleaming all for Mike. She picked up a slice of crunchy bacon and took a bite. Crusty brown meat crumbled on her plate.
I thought about it a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, I guess it doesn’t make sense.”
Nothing in this screwed up world made sense. But we had to negotiate the crap with a smile, slaying the darkness, freeing the humans, un-choking the earth. Then we could go back to paradise.
“But it sure makes me smile how crazy this place is,” I admitted. “There are pearls of wisdom in madness.”
Her attention snapped to me and her eyes flashed. She appreciated my line of reasoning. Isn’t that why the Creator sent us here? Not just to fight the war, but to truly value what we fought for? To appreciate the humans, their emotions, their tenacity and adversity despite the odds, their fighting spirit, their ability to soldier on. To see the beauty in disorder. The wisdom in chaos.
“Come on, general.” I smiled, offering him the juice. “It’ll make your cock bigger. I’m speaking from experience.”
He laughed, grabbed the bottle, and took another swallow, hissing afterwards.
Jophiel watched us with amusement, smiling and giggling. “Does it make your breasts bigger?”
I puffed out my chest, twitching my pec muscles. “Definitely. Want to try some?”
She laughed so hard it made me ache inside. “No. I’ll stick with my coffee, thank you.”
Mike and Zak might be walking fuck markets for the ladies, but me, I had to compensate with personality. Poor Mike was about as funny as a rock, but I guess that came with the territory of Heaven’s defender. Zak fared a little better with his sarcasm. But nothing compared to my humor. No one smiled for them the way they did when I walked in a room, starting the party. For that I had to be grateful. Wisdom existed in laughter and seeing the brighter side. At least that’s what I told myself…
I reclined in my chair, admiring Jophiel. She had pure and innocent hazel eyes, a bit like a puppy’s, and I’d be damned, she had me wrapped around her finger already. Blonde hair fell just below her shoulders. At about five foot seven, she was tall for a woman, with long, lean legs and curvy hips. I wanted to touch her lips to see if they were as soft and smooth as they looked. And shit, those little titties, her nipples showing through her dress, were nearly impossible to ignore. Instant hard on!
But I couldn’t tap that. Not when I sensed something between her and Mike. Sly old dog. Lucky bastard.
While Jophiel came across as confident, carrying her own with Mike and Zak last night, even shooting me down with glimpses of wit, she lacked the Gabriel’s kick-ass vibe and Ariel’s take-no-shit attitude. Jophiel was much softer around the edges, with an innocence about her that reminded me of a child exploring the world. Something inside me wanted to preserve it, store it in a jar. I didn’t understand why I felt the need to protect her righteousness. Perhaps it was because of what I’d seen the darkness do to the other Archangels. It destroyed us, and I didn’t want that same fate for her.
A few seconds earlier, she’d looked downright horrified about my drinking habits. And maybe it was something to be horrified about. I’d never had anyone as pure as her to compare my shitty life to. But she hadn’t had a shitty life to compare her purity to, either, so I guess it went both ways.
Jophiel opened her mouth as if she wanted to banter with me more, but a groan accompanied Zak’s arrival in the kitchen.
“Fuck me sideways.” He shuffled up to the table, his eyes swollen, his body rigid. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a train.”
I laughed and hung my arm over the chair, brushing it against Jophiel’s skin. An electric charge shot up my arm at the contact. While I found humor in Zak’s complaint, she cringed and shrank in her seat.
Those were the days. I remember how crude words used to crawl over my skin like spiders. Took me a good few months to get used to it. Then it no longer affected me. I bet she doubted she’d ever get used to us swearing. Been there. Done that.
She watched our interaction in silence. I knew I had a mouth like a sailor, and I probably should have watched it in front of her, but the other two didn’t, and I had accepted long ago that I had fallen. I was a far cry from the angel I had been when I’d first come to Earth. I could either be miserable about it—one of the reasons that lead me to drink in the first place, come to think of it—or I could accept the fact that I was a fuckup now and live it hard. I had chosen the latter. Again, wisdom existed in acceptance.
Fuck me, I rattled on like a self-help guru sometimes, but I couldn’t help it when it was in my nature to analyze things.
My mind stretched back to last night’s hazy events, where Zak had called her a prude about shying away from swear words. Embarrassed, she’d curled in her seat the same way. Of all the angels, he should have known better and had some compassion. That was his gift after all.
I’d felt a little sorry for her and switched the topic, knowing she’d toughen up in no time. She just needed the space to absorb and process everything, not be bullied about her honor.
“Must have been the tequila,” Mike joked to Zak, taking a sip of coffee and grimacing.
Tequila. A clear alcohol served in little glasses that smelled like detergent. At first I’d declined a taste of it. Then, one night after a hard battle with many warriors lost, I succumbed and never looked back. Most nights I drowned my sorrows in beer, but on tougher nights, when my past came to haunt
me with memories I’d rather bury, the hard spirits were my salvation.
Jophiel was smart to stay away from the stuff, but Zak held some sway over her and had convinced her to consume three cocktails. He was bad news, that guy. He’d corrupt her. She was a slice of the purity I’d long lost and wished to regain, and I didn’t want to see him ruin her.
Zak grabbed the last chair, turned it around, and sat backwards on it, leaning his arms on the top. “Yeah, that would be it. I never learn.”
“If you have it often enough, you get used to it,” I said with a chuckle.
Anyone could build up a tolerance to anything if they tried. Although, the humans suffered great damage to their kidneys. Luckily us angels didn’t have that problem. At least not yet, thanks to our advanced healing systems.
“Is that what you do?” Jophiel tried not to sound as disgusted as she probably felt, surrounded by three swearing soldiers.
I nodded and nudged Mike, who cursed under his breath.
“Practice makes perfect.” I smiled.
Jophiel shook her head as if unable to understand this. Best to let her hold onto her innocence for as long as she could. A refreshing change for once. She reminded me of home and a sense of longing filled my grace once more.
I tasted the coffee she had prepared. Bitter caffeine swirled on my tongue and I spat it out. “How much coffee did you put in this?”
Mike chortled, deep and raspy. Bastard. Had he not warned me on purpose? He hadn’t touched the food yet, and I wasn’t about to be the first to try it.
“The rest of the bag,” she replied, her eyebrows raised.
Don’t give up your day job, love.
Mike and I glanced at each other.
I put my mug down and pushed it aside. So much to learn. I’d be happy to teach her how to perfect coffee. I liked to cook. Call it another of my gifts. Another way to drown my soul, except in food.
