Blessed Light: An Angels of Fate Prequel Novella

by C. S. Wilde

  Heavens, she either resembled a demon or a face-painted warrior from ancient times.

  A knock came from the door and Ezra stepped into the room. Even in disguise, he looked perfect.

  His low-waist jeans showed a part of his white underwear, and his sleeveless shirt contoured all the bumps and valleys of his abdomen, ending right below his belly button. And his biceps, Heavens, they were strong and perfectly defined; his skin smooth and soft.

  The Messenger had tied his hair in a messy high bun that made him all the more appealing.

  Right then, Ava wanted—needed—to do certain things with him; things that were forbidden; things that would set her soul on fire.

  Justine had once told her she was too proper. That she should loosen up a little; no, a lot.

  Well, she didn’t know how to be improper; she’d never wanted to try. And she had always controlled her urges—often by herself, alone in her bed when it was dark and the world was asleep—knowing that bedding Ezra would be wrong, and that there were more important things than sex in an angel’s life.

  Now he stood ahead, a God in his own way, watching her with reverence as if Ava was his queen.

  No. His goddess.

  She forgot to breathe for a moment.

  “You look incredible.” His focus lingered on her plump cleavage, then drifted to the naked curve of her waist. He closed his eyes and inhaled as if he were praying for strength. “Are you ready?”

  “No,” she admitted. “But it’s the only way to help my charge.”

  “Many Guardians would’ve given up on Diego and his son. You’re the most stubborn of us all.” He stepped forward and kissed her forehead. “Your light is magnificent.”

  She rejoiced in the warm imprint of his lips. Ava ached for more, so much more, but knew she could never have it.

  “I act by example, my Messenger.”

  A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “And yet, you best me. In every single way.”

  Nonsense, but before she could tell that to him, he stepped back.

  Ava grunted a silent curse, wishing he’d stayed so close a little longer.

  Ezra observed her one last time before turning away. “Well, we have a man to save.”

  They left the Order, and as they crossed the busy sidewalk, he ran over his plan with her, something they had done a thousand times before. She supposed it set his mind at ease, so she patiently listened.

  During the past week, Ezra had gone out in disguise as BC Bailey, a drug dealer with the best product in town—manufactured by the Order’s labs.

  BC’s drugs had a stronger effect than normal opiates but they didn’t cause addiction, simply a wish for more that could be easily suppressed. As Ezra—well, BC—put it, “It gives you the best trip of your life, free of charge.”

  Aligned with the rumors that the Order’s informants spread, BC’s fame quickly gained traction, and sure enough, the Red Dogs wanted to arrange a meeting with him.

  “Yes,” Ava interrupted before he went on. “And I’ll be BC Bailey’s lady friend.” A furious blush took over her cheeks.

  Ezra’s smirk was naughty and loving at the same time. “You’ll be a distraction, which we can use to our advantage. I know acting like a street-smart working girl makes you uncomfortable, but Virtue Suphiel guaranteed this was the best course—”

  “I’m ready,” she said, even though she wasn’t. Not at all. But she would do anything to help Diego and his son.

  So Ava focused on controlling her nerves as they headed toward sector twenty-three, the location of the Red Dogs’ headquarters. She had almost succeeded when a shadow broke through daylight from above, and an angel landed ahead with a loud thud.

  Humans who passed by didn’t react to this, since the Throne, Agathe, was masking her essence.

  Her bodysuit was black, the same color of her long, straight hair, but her kilt was silver. And her wings, Heavens, they were made of smooth pitch-black feathers, glistening like oil underneath the sun.

  The leader of all Erudites and Virtues crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at the Messenger. “What are you doing?”

  He shrugged as if explaining something incredibly simple to a child. “I’m helping one of my Guardians.”

  “I can see that.” Agathe huffed. “What baffles me is why you’re here instead of her mentor. Helping a Guardian is not your job, Ezraphael.”

  He frowned at her. “And how am I supposed to lead my people if I can’t help one of my own?”

  Agathe let out a frustrated groan and raised her head to the sky as if asking the Gods for patience. “You know it’s more complicated than that.”

  “How so?” he pushed.

  “There are responsibilities!”

  “I’m helping one of my own.” The wrinkles on his forehead deepened. “How is that wrong?”

  “You’re thinking with your cock!”

  “Manners!” he snapped, his nostrils flared.

  “But you are! Sleep with your plaything all you want. I can turn a blind eye as long as you don’t let your feelings for her cloud your common sense.” She shot Ava an apologetic glance. “No offense, dear.”

  Ava glared at the Throne, but controlled her surprise—and anger.

  “None taken,” she lied.

  Ezra stepped forward, ire taking over his usually peaceful features. “Agathe, watch over your own people and let me watch over mine.”

  “This is madness.” Even though Agathe was much smaller than the Messenger, she faced him fiercely. “Even you must respect the Order’s hierarchy.”

  He snorted. “The hierarchy that deems one angel better than another?”

  She huffed and twirled on her own feet.

  Ava thought Agathe might slap Ezra right then. Instead, she slammed both hands on her waist. “I’ll ask Talahel to put some sense into your head, brother.”

  “He will try.” A defiant grin cut across his lips. “But perhaps, it is I who can put some sense into both of you. Give me time, sister.”

  Ava gaped at their exchange, not knowing what to think or do. Two giants quarreled before her and she was nothing but a speck of dust in their mighty battle.

  Well, not exactly a speck of dust.

  Not to Ezra.

  Finally, Agathe gave in. “Will you at least admit that a Selfless would’ve been a better choice for this?”

  Selfless were angels whose memories had been wiped out so they could be reborn as humans—standard procedure, considering centuries of memories could overload a human brain.

  They usually worked in a lower branch of the Order, gathered in precincts to keep the supernatural creatures at bay.

  A sort of supernatural police, one might say.

  In this, Agathe was right. Aside from Vera, a Selfless would’ve been the right choice to accompany Ava in this mission. Certainly not the Messenger.

  “Perhaps,” Ezra admitted. “But things at the Order have been rather calm, so I figured why not myself. Besides, I want to make sure my Guardian is safe. Do you mean a Selfless could protect her better than I?”

  Agathe blew air through her lips. “Of course not! That’s preposterous. But a Selfless would have been the right choice. The proper choice.”

  “Is that all, Agathe?” He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and nodded to the path ahead. “If you don’t mind, we have a mission to finish.”

  The Throne grumbled under her breath, clearly out of arguments. She raised one finger to his face and spread her wings to take flight. “That heart of yours, brother. One day, it’ll be your doom.”

  5

  “Was it wise to confront the Throne?” Ava asked as they went on.

  “Not in the slightest.” Ezra winked at her and for a second, she saw the carefree human he might’ve been centuries ago. Before the Order. Before his death. “But don’t worry. Agathe means well.” He cocked his head as if reconsidering his statement. “Her manners could use some improvement, though.”

  This neighborhood vast
ly differed from the ones surrounding the Order. The buildings here had decaying façades and broken windows, ugly blocks that seemed about to collapse. The local shops’ display windows were all barred, and every door held multiple locks.

  Unease swirled in Ava’s belly, but she kept the sensation wrapped inside her essence so Ezra wouldn’t catch it. Being the Messenger, and the highest evolution of a Guardian, he could perceive others’ emotions a lot better than she ever could. And Hells be damned if she would let her fears distract him from the important work they had come here to do.

  They soon reached an old three-story building dwarfed by its taller neighbors. They rang the bell and waited in front of an iron-framed door with cracked panels.

  Silence reigned for a long while, until a voice sounded from inside. “Name yo business.”

  Ezra didn’t hesitate. “We here to talk some business with yo boss, homie.” Gods, it was as if he’d turned into another man. “We got an appointment. Tell him it’s BC Bailey and that my time is fucking precious.”

  Ava gaped at him. She’d never heard the Messenger curse.

  Ever.

  Noting her surprise, he gave her a mischievous grin that hooked on his left cheek.

  A silent moment passed, and Ava wondered if their plan had crumbled into dust. Just then the door clicked open, and a short man with a dark beard and tattoos all over his body eyed them for a moment before letting them in.

  He led them through a badly lit corridor with moss-peppered walls. A muggy, stuffed reek took over Ava’s nostrils and the urge to open a window came up—not that there were any in sight. Leaks dripped from the corners, and cold LED bulbs filled the place in an eerie gloom similar to that of abandoned hospitals.

  They headed to an old elevator with gated doors, then went up to the third floor.

  “You with the Red Dogs?” Ezra asked their guide.

  “In a way,” he said without looking at either him or Ava. Almost as if he were ignoring their presence.

  The ride was slow and shaky, and the elevator halted with a violent jerk. The guide pushed the gated doors open and got out without a word.

  They followed him to a wooden door close by. The man knocked on the dark surface thrice and waited.

  The door soon clicked open and a thug taller than Ezra let them in. Another big, bulky man joined him, both of them scowling at Ava and Ezra as they entered the space; sentinels waiting to attack.

  She glanced at the Messenger, who smiled at her discretely. A silent message that said he had everything under control.

  The space ahead was in much better shape than the rest of the building. The wooden floor was clean, the decoration flawless. Two leather armchairs stood near the right window, facing a living room with a Persian carpet adorning the floor and a large TV hanging from the wall. The open kitchen seemed barely used, and there was no dining table here, just seats around the kitchen island.

  A tall figure with hands behind his back looked out of the open window on the left. The man was clad in black from top to bottom—his sleeveless shirt, his baggy pants, and his belt too, which had two gun holsters attached to it, matching the obsidian gleam of the pistols they carried.

  “BC Bailey,” he said without turning to them. “I ain’t in the habit of trying the stuff I sell, but I made an exception for your product.”

  “And?”

  “It was phenomenal, dawg.”

  “I know,” Ezra replied with a smug grin. “But we ain’t here to compliment my obviously good product.”

  The man chuckled and faced them. “Damn straight.”

  It was remarkable how much Samuel resembled his father. They had the same straight nose, the same scruffy three-day-old stubble, and the same messy black hair. He even had the same eyes; kind and yet suffering.

  Ava hadn’t seen many criminals in her life, but she doubted they had eyes like those.

  Tattoos of skulls and thorny roses twined down Samuel’s bare arms, leading Ava’s attention to the guns around his waist.

  “Don’t worry, mamacita,” he said as he observed her. “I never use them. They’re more of a warning, yeah? People tend to back off when they see my girls.” He tapped the guns with care.

  She glanced back at the thugs and the short man near the door. “Do they follow the same philosophy?”

  “Nah, I can’t answer for those fuckers.” He clapped his hands and focused on Ezra. “On to business then.”

  His tone was serene and peaceful. Not what she would’ve expected from a gang leader. In fact, Samuel struck her as a sensible man … but if that were true, he wouldn’t be spearheading the Red Dogs.

  “Your distribution network is damn fine.” Ezra shrugged. “I want to expand, but as you’ve said, my product is one of the best in town. There are others interested, of course. So gimme your best offer, homie.”

  Instead of replying, Samuel examined Ava. A smirk twitched on his lips. “Hmm, I might have to reconsider my terms.”

  Ezra wrapped an arm around her waist and brought her closer to him, nearly slamming her against his left side. Ava’s heart beat frantically in her ears as she took his tantalizing citric scent all at once. Warmth seeped from his skin and penetrated hers, pooling down her stomach.

  “Non-negotiable,” he snarled like a beast. It was so unlike him.

  Samuel raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to offend your mamacita, dawg.”

  “Right.” Ezra narrowed his eyes at him.

  The gang leader went to one of the two slouchy leather couches in the corner and plopped down, then showed him the sofa’s twin.

  Ezra sat down with a certain hesitation, and Ava decided she should place herself on his right knee. After all, she was here to distract, and distract she would. Plus, being that close to Ezra had made her more daring, somehow.

  She leaned over, towering over him. All too late, she realized her breasts were inches away from Ezra’s lips. His attention lingered there for a while before he snapped his head to Samuel, who watched them with amusement.

  “Your offer,” Ezra pushed. “Homie.”

  “A sixty-forty cut. It’s only fair, since I’d be taking all the risks with distribution.”

  “Fifty-fifty,” Ezra countered, his face a mask. He relaxed on the sofa and laid a hand over Ava’s leg, tapping it gently with his fingers.

  A furious blush threatened to rise to her cheeks, but a lady friend wouldn’t blush so easily, so she forced it down.

  She uncrossed her legs, opening them a little too widely. Gods, she wished she could hide somewhere, but this was for Diego, she had to remember that. She was here to help her charge.

  Thank Heavens she wasn’t wearing a skirt.

  Samuel’s nostrils flared, and his attention locked on her. “Fifty-fifty and you let me have a go around with your lady there.”

  “As I’ve said, out of the question.” Ezra glared at Ava, his jaw set and muscles clenched.

  Was she overdoing it?

  Well, too late.

  She casually played with the tips of her hair. “Everything’s got a price, sugar.”

  Samuel licked his lips and formed a triangle with his hands. “I can afford you.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Ezra said, his face an enigma. “But the bitch is mine, so move the fuck on.”

  Ava had to restrain her shock. Maybe she was losing her mind, but she sensed honesty in Ezra’s words.

  The bitch is mine.

  Samuel shrugged. “Fine. Sixty-forty, then.”

  Ezra tapped Ava’s thigh in a clear sign for her to stand. She did, and he followed. “I’m taking my product to Ramirez’s boys. I’m sure they’ll be more inclined to do serious business with me.”

  They turned to leave, but the thugs walled their way to the door. Ava and Ezra whirled around to face Samuel, who calmly showed them the couch.

  Ezra crossed his arms and stood where he was.

  The leader of the Red Dogs sighed despondently. “Let’s start over. Fifty-f
ifty, but you gotta do me a favor.”

  “My bitch’s out of the question.”

  “I know.” He placed a hand over his heart in a silent promise.

  Ezra shrugged. “Then name your favor, cuz my time is fucking valuable.”

  Samuel nodded at his thugs, who promptly opened the door and left them alone. The lock clicked all too loudly against the silence that had taken over the space.

  Samuel analyzed his own fingers in a manner eerily similar to his father’s. “You were arrested as a murder suspect some time ago, right?”

  The Order had uploaded a fake background for BC Bailey to the human police’s servers, knowing Samuel’s network had access to it. All to establish the Messenger as what people would call on the streets a bad motherfucker.

  “What if I was?” Ezra dared.

  “Did you actually do it?”

  “None of your damn business.”

  Samuel smirked without any amusement. “A cut through the jugular, yeah? It was a kind and quick death.”

  Ezra didn’t show an inch of shock or disgust as he said, “You didn’t call me here just cuz of my product.”

  Ava’s blood froze, her knees suddenly weak. Ordering a murder could doom Samuel before they’d even begun helping him.

  She prayed silently; prayed this wasn’t what it seemed.

  Samuel waved his hand in the air. “I wanna kill two birds with one stone, dawg.”

  “So our negotiation was a distraction?” Ava asked, feigning an annoyance that wasn’t hard to pull off.

  “Not at all, mamacita. I’d go in yo pants any time. I was wearing your man down a bit, that’s all. It’s the biz.” He nodded to Ezra. “You know how it’s like, right, BC?”

  “Yeah.” Ezra watched the closed door. “But I have another theory.”

  “Oh, really?”

  He stepped forward and faced Samuel. “You were bullshitting us because you didn’t want your men listening to your real proposition.”

  Samuel’s glance widened.

  Bingo.

  Ezra blew out an exasperated sigh. “Hey, I don’t care if you trust your people or not. Just say it: you need me to take care of someone.”