by Skyler Andra
“It’s healed,” Gus stuttered.
I slammed the money on the counter. “Call the cops. Get this dick out of here.”
But Gus’ terrified eyes, wide with exploded pupils, didn’t pay any attention to the money. He stared at my hand and the blood smear that had trickled over the back of it.
Fuck. I grabbed Jophiel by the arm and dragged her out.
“Catch you ‘round, Gus.”
4
Jophiel
Uri didn’t stop. With his fingers tightly clasping my coat, he hauled me along the street. Every few steps, he glanced over his shoulder. I don’t know how I moved with him. Somehow my feet found their way, one pace after the other. But I felt disconnected from my limbs, like my body was floating above it all. Two blocks flew by before he shoved me into an alley.
“Are you all right?” His fingers pressed into my skin, making the numbness subside and bringing out a little pain. I was grateful to know that I was still alive, not floating up to Heaven as a spirit.
My feet carried me backward until I hit the wall. I leaned against it so I didn’t collapse, my face in my hands. Shallows breaths barely delivered enough oxygen to my system. Weakness replaced the numb sensation in my limbs.
The scene where the little boy stabbed my hand replayed in my mind. The knife in his grasp as he lifted it in the air. The metal gleaming in the light. The blade coming down and piercing my flesh. I gasped and cradled my hand; it ached even though the wound had healed. This world was so ugly, so dark, so violent. It stung my grace, my heart, like I’d been shot. I forced a shaky hand to my forehead. Empty words hung in the air. No matter how hard I tried to convey them, I just couldn’t get them out.
“Jophiel?” Uri repeated my name a few times.
The sound, streaked with concern, shook me from my stupor. My frantic eyes found his. I wasn’t the one hurt by the weapon that had exploded. Uri was. His hands gripped the coat covering my arms. I blinked, summoning an inner strength to push aside my own shock to check on him. I should be his strength as Zak and Mike had been for me when the child wounded me.
“I’m fine.” My grace stung with my lie.
I pushed myself off the wall to find his wounded hand and ran a finger across the pink skin, freshly healed. His grace had absorbed into his flesh. Only a smear of blood remained to tell the tale. His hand trembled from residual shock; I could feel it echoing through his grace. Everything about his trauma sparked memories of my own, the anxiety taking a long time to wear off. Except mine was not helped when Zak had attacked Mike. All of it had been too much and I’d left, returning to Heaven.
“I want to know how you’re faring.” I searched his face, his expression stuck between perturbed and alarmed.
He rubbed his face. “I’ll be good in a minute.”
A lie to mask a brave face. From this point on, he’d see that man’s face every time he closed his eyes. I still saw the little brown-haired child, so seemingly innocent but infected by a darkness so evil.
“Why did you do that?” I stared at Uri, his eyes still cloudy from shock. “Why grab the metal blasting device.”
“You’re cute.” He brushed away a lock of my hair, his voice tight and hoarse. “It’s called a gun.”
Oh. I blushed. He looked at me the way Mike and Zak had when I’d first arrived. The young and inexperienced angel new to Earth. But that didn’t matter right now.
“No wonder Luc wants your grace,” he said. “It’s the purest form of energy on this planet. Potent and formidable. We have to stop him accumulating more, otherwise he’ll be unstoppable.”
Uri was right about so many things. I had much to learn, but each day I acquired more knowledge about this strange and unfamiliar world. One day I hoped it would all make sense. Though I doubted it would ever.
This incomprehensible world was the reason why Zak rebelled. He didn’t understand why the Creator had taken his most precious gift from him. Mike, on the other hand—while he didn’t publicly share his opinions, his grace sure betrayed them—didn’t understand why the Creator had granted Lucifer dominion over this world, knowing what strife and chaos he’d eventually create. Even Uri’s grace told me that he failed to comprehend why the young man, and many more like him, made the wrong choices when a better way always existed.
“I grabbed it to save my friends.” Uri’s spine stiffened. “I’d do it again.”
Brave. Fearless. But the event had still shaken him. I could see it in his wide eyes, his ashen face, and the way he kept glancing over his shoulder for potential threats. The sound of a bicycle whizzing by had his body tensing. A bird’s wings flapping overhead had him ducking.
It put me on alert too. My gaze flew in every direction, scanning the people that passed the alley where we hid, searching for any weapons, for signs of demons or druggies, as Uri called them. Encountering one had left me shaken and frightened. Beyond our encounters with Lucifer and his demons, we had to contend with the lost souls of society. Those so desperate to fulfill their own selfish needs, they hurt others with no regard for anyone else. Someone with nothing left to lose was a danger to us. Mike told me their darkness sought out the light of angels to clash with it. I didn’t want any more battles today. Not so soon after losing Gabriel.
Something cracked and spluttered, and I jumped, expecting another gun to have erupted. Uri pressed me to the wall with his forearm, using his body as a shield. My heart thumped rapidly beneath my breastbone. I could hardly breathe with his weight crushing me.
“Shit,” he croaked, shaking his head, his breaths coming short and fast. “It was just a car backfiring, idiot.”
I didn’t know what that meant, and I dared not ask, concerned that it would feed his worry. It sounded like he’d said that to reassure himself rather than me. I assumed a car backfiring meant some failure in the engine of the vehicle, which caused it to choke and cough to free itself of the blockage in a loud bang. Whatever it meant, it had startled us both, and Uri had acted to protect me first over himself.
His troubled eyes told me everything. The noise had reminded him of the explosion from the gun. That moment was forever etched into his mind, just like the time when Lucifer had tried to steal my grace and the time when the child had stabbed me. I squeezed his hand, reminding him that we had each other to lean on. Desperate to chase away my fear and Lucifer’s darkness, I clung to Uri, squeezing him, holding on for my own sanity. The warmth from his body seeped into my unsettled system and chased away the chill of my apprehension, but I couldn’t seem to chase away all my anxiety.
“Come on,” he said with a gentle tug of my hand. “We better get breakfast someplace else. Mike and Zak will be expecting us.”
I didn’t move. How could he want food after what had happened? So many emotions pumped through my grace: confusion, shock, and overwhelming fear.
After a few more moments, when my blood no longer felt chilled, I nodded that I was ready to move. Cautiously, I edged forward with Uri clasping me, his arm around my back as if he now leaned on me for my light. We wandered along the street, my arm squeezing him back, not wanting to let go. I feared if I did, I’d go insane from all the darkness surrounding me. We each needed the other to illuminate the way through this strange, cold, and dark world.
In silence, he led me down a couple of blocks. My body responded to him, leaning into him, our hips bumping. I liked the way he held me tight, protected me, and provided me comfort. We passed a convenience store, its windows lined with snacks of all kinds.
“Wait here,” Uri announced, letting go of me to slip into the store while leaving me on the street.
After our earlier encounter, I didn’t feel like standing on the street alone. Also, my gut twisted with worry for Uri. During the walk, he’d seemed agitated and unnerved, his emotions heightened by the darker subject matter we’d discussed. A week ago, after Lucifer had attacked me, I’d thanked the Most High for Mike and Zak’s company to take my mind off the incident. I bet Uri needed the s
ame thing, and I would be here for him.
I inched inside the store, searching for him. The inside of the long, thin building smelled sweet like the candy along the front counter and in the rows of shelves. Two elderly women, dressed in long cardigans, their hair tinged with purple, played some sort of game with cards. One spread her cards in a fan, pressed them to the counter, hollered, and raised her fist, scooping up a pile of little bits of wood.
“You owe me fifty bucks, Cecile,” she cried.
I watched them with a growing curiosity, wondering what they were doing.
“Not again.” The other lady pulled a wallet out of her handbag, choosing a note of money and reluctantly handing it to her friend. “You cleared me out.”
“Hush,” the winner said. “I’ll cover you at bingo tonight.”
At the back of the store, I heard a door squeak open. A mirror hung from the left wall, reflecting Uri selecting something from behind a glass paneled door of what I recognized as a large cooling machine. On our cross-country travels, Mike, Zak, and I had grabbed drinks from them. Uri removed what looked like a pack of six beer cans, removing the first and cracking it open. He drank the whole container in one go, crushing the can and gasping. His shaking hand wiped his forehead. He consumed another two as I watched, feeling like I was spying on him. I backed away and edged toward the counter.
“What are you playing?” I asked the women and rested an elbow on the bench.
“Poker,” the winner replied with a smug grin. “I beat the pants off Cecile here. Three times!”
Poor Cecile rolled her eyes and crossed her frail arms. “Betty’s on a winning streak.”
“You not played poker before?” Betty asked.
I shook my head, examining the cards. They were decorated with love hearts, diamonds, and other strange symbols. “I don’t know how.”
“Where you been, honey?” Surprise stained Betty’s voice. If only she knew. “Oh, it’s easy, honey. The packets we sell have instructions for five games. Bridge, Poker, Five Hundred, Canasta, and Go Fish.”
“Good time passers.” Cecile nodded.
Betty nodded. “Earned me a nice new cardigan.”
“You gambled?” I asked them.
“Ain’t nothing wrong with that, honey,” Betty defended, and Cecile glanced at her handbag. “Some play for kicks, others for matchsticks.” She gestured to the little sticks of wood. “Playing for money ups the stakes. Spices it up. Makes it more interesting.” Her smug smile returned.
I didn’t get to ask more questions as Uri’s boots rapping on the floor signaled his approach to the counter. I turned around.
He halted when he caught sight of me. “I thought you were waiting outside.” He tried to hide the remaining beer by tucking it in his coat. His hands still shook.
One beer out of six left. He’d consumed five in the space of a few minutes. Still on edge, clearly, despite his smile and bravado. I knew the alcohol was a tool to drown out his unease at being shot in the hand. I didn’t blame him nor judge him.
I shrugged. “I wanted to check on you.”
“I’m fine.” My grace stung with his lie. It told me that he wanted to hide his fear from me. He didn’t want me to think less of him. But I didn’t. We were both scarred from something traumatizing.
He squeezed past me in the narrow aisle to proceed to the counter.
“Hello, honey,” Betty said, her eyes floating up Uri’s chest to his face.
“I’ll pay for the six pack, please.” Uri’s voice had lost all its previous cheer, and it hurt my heart to see him like this.
“Twenty dollars. Thanks, young man,” Betty said. The register beeped and flashed as she punched in numbers.
While I waited, my gaze drifted to the shelf beside me. A pack of cards exactly like the one Betty and Cecile had been using caught my attention. I grabbed one, turning it over in my free hand. I wanted to learn to play. Maybe if I gave it to Mike as a gift he could teach me. The two old women looked like they were enjoying themselves, up until the moment Betty claimed victory. A few games between friends might serve as a good distraction from everything that had happened to us recently. Then the angels wouldn’t need to drown away their grief and fear with alcohol. I tucked the cards in my pocket.
“Come on,” Uri said, his voice low as he reached me.
I got the distinct impression he was embarrassed that I’d caught him drinking. Guilt gnawed at me as I trailed behind him to the exit.
Outside, we walked in silence for a few blocks. The emptiness between us carved at my grace, so I told him about the cards.
“I got these.” I removed the packet from my pocket to show him. “Want to play a game tonight?”
He glanced down at them. “You didn’t pay for those.”
“I didn’t?” I hadn’t even thought about it. I’d been worried about Uri and the other angels drinking more. “Seventh Heaven, I should go back.”
But when I spun around to march back to the store, Uri stopped me. He stood in front of me to block the way.
“You’re continually surprising me, Angel of Beauty.” His lips curled into one of his characteristic grins.
All my panic faded to the back of my mind at the fact that I’d made him smile once more. That’s all I wanted.
“You little thief.” He smacked me on the ass and laughed. It was far from his usual boisterous laugh, filled with light and life, but it was a start. “Bad, bad girl.”
His response made me smile. The happy Uri from earlier was back, and relief coursed through me. Though not completely, because I’d just stolen something, and guilt needled at the back of my mind. Who would have thought that something so lawless could turn things around? Maybe I had to be bad more often.
5
Jophiel
Now that Uri was in better spirits, I felt more confident asking him for answers about what had happened back at Gus’ bakery. But first I grabbed his hand, holding it tight to offer what little comfort I could.
“Why did that man hurt you?” I asked, hoping that he might be up to explaining. If he wasn’t, I’d drop the topic and talk about something else.
“That guy in the bakery was on drugs,” Uri offered as we passed a row of banks with people taking money from the cash dispensing machines I’d seen Mike use. “He wasn’t thinking straight. Don’t blame him.”
“Drugs?” I asked, unfamiliar with the term.
“It’s something the humans take to make them feel alive, happy, elevated,” he explained. I noticed the shaking in his hand had subsided now that he held my hand tight. “It also numbs their pain like alcohol.”
At the last sentence, he turned shamefaced, glancing down, a pink flush spreading across his cheeks. Had he indulged in drugs? Or did he refer to the alcohol he boasted about consuming? If humans adopted vices, it only seemed fitting for the angels to do the same. From this, I deduced Uri’s vice to be alcohol, and I wondered if he had a wound to bury beneath the numbing effects of his drinks.
I thought about vices for a moment longer. Zak coated his pain with layers of anger and hurt, which he inflicted on others. It was a coping and protection mechanism to keep people away. I hadn’t figured out Mike’s vice yet; he seemed too honest and straight-forward to fall for the human condition. Then again, he swore and had indulged in intimate relations with me, so he’d somewhat fallen victim to the human side of him. Maybe the Protector of Heaven wasn’t as susceptible as the others. Vices seemed inevitable to the angels though, and I was bound to succumb to one too.
“I see,” I replied. “So they’re addicted?”
“Yes.” He sighed, pulling his hand from my body to examine it, squeeze it shut, and open it. “Addicts want to feel good all of the time. There are different types of them. Gamblers like Michael ride on the thrill of winning card games and horse bets.”
“Michael gambles?” I couldn’t imagine our noble leader doing that.
Uri’s brows crinkled as our gaze met. “Yep. Sometimes he wi
ns big too. On his last casino visit, he pocketed three hundred thousand in one game.”
What need would Michael have for that kind of money? I hoped he donated it to the poor. I resolved to ask him later.
A bus groaned and shuddered as it sped past, spluttering out a cloud of dark fumes that smelled of combusted gas.
“Zak’s vice is women, and he treats them like dirt and throws them away.” Uri’s voice lowered, almost into a growl, as if he disapproved.
“He didn’t treat me like that,” I defended. But no sooner had I said it, I remembered how cold and cruel he’d been upon our first earthly meeting, and my raised shoulders lowered.
A humorless chuckle burst out of Uri. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “He must like you then.”
I wasn’t so sure of that. Zak had an odd way of showing his affection. He argued with Mike and disrespected his authority. One moment he acted caring and kind to me, the next he was cold and avoided me. Last night he’d been somewhat sullen and withdrawn, but he threw in a wisecrack every now and then and knocked back the drinks to keep up with Uri. I presumed that Gabriel’s death had hit Zak hard. Perhaps it reminded him of losing Ariel.
Beyond not enjoying the taste of alcohol, or its effect on my body, I’d stopped at three drinks because I was worried Zak might leave and do something irrational, like hurt himself or someone else. Thank the Most High he hadn’t. But from the warning given to Mike and I by The Dragon, Zak was a bomb of darkness waiting to explode.
Uri motioned for me to watch out for some road workers backing a vehicle across the pavement. Once it had moved, we continued forward.
A question kept nagging at me, and so I asked it. “If the man that shot you needed drugs, then what was he doing at the bakery?”
Uri ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair, shoving it out of his eyes. “An unfortunate side effect of drugs is that the druggie feels really ill if they don’t supply their next fix.” His gaze was a world away, the usual brightness and cheer dulled by worry. “By my estimate, that guy was on smack, and that shit costs a lot of money. That’s probably why he had the gun. He was going to hold up the place and steal Gus’ money.”
