The Bliss (The Angel Star Prequel Novella)

by Jennifer Murgia

  EARTH

  Traces of my brother are everywhere, and my head throbs from the constant chaos as I search for him. Screams. Despair. Death. The smell here is sour, as if decay has somehow tried to sweeten itself.

  Humans can be despicable, ugly creatures, yet I seem to understand why Lucifer is so enamored; why there is a need to change them, as a Guardian might desire. The air here is deceivingly toxic, and I find I lose myself quickly to its effects. Something dark laughs inside me.

  It grows the longer I stay surrounded by earthly horror and hate, and instead of fighting it like I know I should, I willingly invite it to take root.

  I have a shadow. Talan follows me nearly every day, and although I try to lose him, it is to no avail. We don’t speak, only watch one another closely, and I’ve come to learn that as he develops his own skills, I am hopefully closer to finding my fallen brother.

  Talan closes his eyes, as he has done so many times today, and it can mean only one thing.

  Death.

  It speaks to him, calls. My ears cannot hear it, only his. Instead of my usual attempts to hide, today I’ve begun to follow him. His gift is mesmerizing – hearing the voices of those about to die, always showing up before their light is extinguished, to escort them to either Heaven or a place darker than this. Today, however, I’ve noticed something peculiar. Talan too has a shadow, one that is watchful and quiet, and surprisingly familiar as it observes intently from the murkiest of corners. There is the slightest appearance of wings when the light is just right; black like night, and scorched. And always, just before death’s hand is about to strike, there is a chill in the air and the shadow disappears.

  I wonder, if I can induce a deathlike state to another Guardian’s charge, will Lucifer come?

  The thought is seductive. It is wrong for me to even want this, but I cannot resist replicating what makes human life so tragic, and for it to draw my brother, after all this time since his fall, it will be worth it.

  There is only one human I have such access to. Although I’ve turned my back on Heaven, for now, I am still Guardian to the Eighth Gate.

  The man sleeps quietly as I enter the room. His name is Daniel. He is a husband, a father. I am not a dark angel. I may never be granted entrance into Heaven ever again, but I do this in hope of finding my brother.

  There is a silver line that connects me to my charge. Without it, Daniel will certainly wither. He will most likely die. This pains me because he is a good man. I’ve watched how full his heart is.

  This is the price he will pay for being my charge.

  This is the price I will pay for loving my brother.

  It comes with great consequence. His child, the tiny girl who sleeps in the next room, will be the death of me after my charge is gone, for all the Eighth Gate is, it will be passed down to her, threefold. I accept this wholeheartedly. Wanting her to find the means to destroy what I’ve become today, and I make a vow that I will always follow her, I will always be the shadow in the distant corners of her life, so I may make sure she will do me in when the time is called for.

  There is no turning back.

  I raise my hand and look at my palm with wonder. The centuries I’ve guarded this soul is evident upon our hands. Our octagrams mark the bond we’ve shared. Guardian to Charge. Angel to human.

  I take my dagger and pull it across my Gate’s palm, slicing his star in two. The baby cries in the neighboring room. My charge and I are two instead of one now, and my heart bleeds with something vile. Soon he will perish. Not tonight, but very soon.

  The shadows undulate and I look up to find my brother standing over me, his face now a horrific mask at what I’ve done.