Angel

by Plum Pascal

  “What’d he do to Baron?” the sprite asks, even though he clearly has no idea who Baron is.

  “Variant fucking murdered Baron and put him six feet under!” I continue as I shake my head, wondering if I’m talking any sense into Dragan’s stupid brain. “And he did it as a message to the two of us. I’ve listened, and you should do the same.”

  “Heal the girl,” Dragan says, his hands fisting at his sides. Clearly, I’ve provoked the dumb fucker.

  “Heal her yourself,” I spit back at him.

  He glares at me. “You’re well aware that I can’t heal her, or I already would have.” He’s correct, of course. His dark magic won’t heal an angel. Only magic born of light will. Hence his reason for coming here.

  “I want no part of this,” I respond, making no move to heal anyone.

  But before Dragan can say anything, the girl’s eyes dart open and she stares right at me. Then, she opens her mouth as if to scream but passes out again, instead. I feel my breath catch and all of my anger bleeds away. Her eyes were wide, beautiful, the color of a clear, blue sky—and the expression in them was one of pure panic.

  She needs me.

  The way she looked at me was imploring, begging.

  It’s at that moment that I begin to realize what she truly is, as if this knowledge had been stoppered until now. Whether she has her wings or not, she’s the ultimate example of a creature of light. Such that I am. The fae have always regarded angels as the most revered of all creatures. And I haven’t done my part to honor her. Not yet.

  “Our time to leave is approaching rapidly,” Dragan announces, sounding impatient.

  “Open the window,” I demand, removing my jacket and setting it carefully over the armchair at the foot of my bed. Dragan does as instructed and I face the sprite. “Fetch me the flowers there, sprite,” I tell him and point to the vase in the far corner of the room.

  “Don’t no one ‘round here know how ta say please?” the sprite grumbles, but does my bidding all the same. He brings me the bunch of daffodils, roses, tulips, and daisies, and I place them around the girl’s body, ensuring the petals touch her skin. Instantly, the hue of the blossoms begins to intensify, the yellow of the daffodils deepening into gold. The lavender of the rose becomes a rich violet; the red of the tulip, crimson. And the green of the stems is more verdant than it was seconds ago. What’s even more strange is that the leaves of the rose and the daisies begin to grow, reaching out as if they’re on fast forward.

  “What the bloody hell?” I say, mostly to myself.

  “She’s an angel,” Dragan scoffs above me, as if that response is explanation enough.

  I reach into the fabric pouch I keep upon my person at all times and remove the crystals from within it. As the Atacomite is poisoning her entire body, I must cleanse her from head to toe. It’s usually a lengthy process to remove Atacomite from someone’s body, but time isn’t a luxury we currently have. And though I know I can pull most of the poison from her body, it will not come without cost to her. She’ll be extremely weak as her body heals. I, of course, have the ability to aid in her recovery, but we won’t be in one another’s company for much longer. A shame.

  Above her head, I place a piece of Celestite in its natural, geode form. Celestite will help minimize her pain as it aids in removing the toxins plaguing her. The blue crystals sparkle, reminding me of the glittering blue of her eyes. Up close such as I am to her now, I can truly see how remarkably lovely she is. Easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I suddenly feel pangs of shame that I wasn’t quicker to offer my assistance. Well, I’ll make up for it now.

  I place purple Fluorite, one of the most beautiful crystals, on her forehead. The Fluorite will strengthen her bones as the Atacomite leaches valuable minerals and vitamins from them. On her throat I place Azurite, a small, deep blue stone, which will protect her brain from any damage.

  When I realize where the rest of the crystals must go, I glance up at Dragan who studies the girl intently, as if he’s attempting to remember the curvature of her face.

  “I must have access to the entirety of her body in order to proceed,” I say.

  Dragan frowns, but faces his henchman. “Thoradin, turn your back.” Thoradin does as he requests and Dragan looks over at me.

  “Aren’t you going to turn your back?” I ask him with a teasing smile. I must admit I enjoy baiting him.

  “No. I’m in charge of keeping tabs on you, to ensure you don’t do anything to her you shouldn’t.”

  I frown up at him. “As if I’d ever accost an unconscious woman.” I shake my head as I reach up and pull the white sheet away from the sleeping angel, revealing her breasts.

  Swallowing hard, I look upon the heavy mounds of white flesh that fall slightly to the sides. Her nipples are the same pink as the Rose Quartz I place above her heart. The beautiful, blush-colored crystal will stabilize her heart and circulatory system.

  I’m beginning to wonder if I should be concerned about my own circulatory system, because the sight of her perfect breasts is doing something to me. My heart is pounding, and all I can think about is taking one of those nipples into my mouth.

  I hear Dragan clear his throat as though he’s uncomfortable, and I suddenly feel sorry for the poor bastard. He hasn’t had a woman in God only knows how long—as difficult as this is proving for me, it must be torture for him.

  Reaching out, I pull the sheet further away from her to reveal her rib cage and the lines of her body that taper into a small waist before flaring out with her hips. I haven’t uncovered her sex yet, but I’ll need to soon.

  On her stomach I place a geode of yellow crystals, Citrine, to help detoxify her blood.

  “Time is of the essence,” Dragan reminds me, breaking my concentration. He sounds perturbed.

  “If you must leave, then do so,” I bark back at him. “Fucking cock,” I add under my breath.

  He says nothing but makes no motion to exit, so I assume he’s found his patience.

  When I pull the sheet away from the angel, I hear Dragan inhale deeply. But my attention doesn’t rest on him for long; the bulge between my thighs is suddenly swelling as I behold her flat stomach and the bareness of her mound. Anona, or someone, has shaven her clean, and her exposed lips are calling to me. I want nothing more than to bury my face in them, to taste her essence, to fill her with my tongue.

  “Continue,” Dragan growls. He knows me and my libido well.

  With a shaky hand, I place Chrysoculla, a turquoise stone, upon her mound, being careful not to touch her anywhere else. I spoke the truth when I said I derive no pleasure in fondling an unconscious woman. Yes, I admittedly derive great pleasure in viewing the sleeping woman’s nudity, but that’s where my enjoyment ends.

  “What does that stone do for her… there?” Dragan demands, as though he believes I’d just been looking for an excuse to touch her in her most private of places.

  “It will make her long for your impotent cock,” I respond as I smile up at him. The sprite tries to hide a laugh beneath the cover of a cough.

  “What the fuck does it do, faerie?” snarls Dragan.

  “It will aid in her detoxification, reoxygenate her blood, and help relieve her pain,” I answer staunchly.

  He says nothing more, so I figure he’s accepted my explanation. I pull the sheet away from her completely and, at her feet, I place Hematite, a deep gray crystal which will support her kidneys. And in each of her hands, I place a piece of Angelite, which, as the name denotes, is an angelic stone that will balance her physical body with the etheric realm.

  “Sprite,” I say and face the creature who looks at me with interest. “Touch her,” I instruct.

  “Why I gotta do that?”

  “Because you’re a creature of light, and nature’s magic will recognize you as such. I can pull your energy to heal her, as well as my own.”

  The creature shrugs and then floats down to the woman’s head, taking a seat just beside it as he r
eaches down and places his tiny hand on her cheek.

  I, meanwhile, close my eyes and hover my own hands above the lovely angel, reaching out to the power of the natural world that made me what I am.

  Speaking Elvish, I call to the earth, the wind, the sun, and the water, asking for strength to heal this creature born from the flesh and blood of the earth and the angelic realm. I call in an Aura of Vitality, a healing energy that radiates an aura which surrounds the angel in a cocoon of light. I then tap into the immeasurable light of the Fae Realm and call on it to guide me, to use me as its vessel as it purifies her, leaching from her the toxins of the Atacomite.

  Light blossoms from beneath my palms and, as I open my eyes, I witness energy passing through one crystal after another, in the form of a bright, radiant light. This life energy pulses within each crystal, causing it to glitter. I can feel the power of the light thrumming from beneath my fingers as it joins the crystals and activates each one, like a current of static electricity.

  As the woman is an angel, a creature of light, so will the energy recognize her and heal her with its blinding beauty. But the Atacomite will not leave her system without a fight, and that fight will result in arduous pain and many days of healing.

  NINE

  Eilish

  Geldingstock

  Fae Realm

  A brilliant white light blinds me, consuming my entire body. I can feel the power of its essence seeping into me, invading my skin. The power roars through me with a surge of energy that forces the sickness out of me, a sickness that’s been living as a parasite inside me for too long.

  And then there’s nothing but the searing shriek of pain. Bright, blinding, and relentless agony that wages an uncompromising battle against my entire being.

  My heart beats in outrage against the sting that invades each drop of my blood, spreading its throbbing anguish into every muscle and fiber of my body. The agony envelops me until it feels like my form is nothing more than pain itself, a beating manifestation of the misery contained within.

  Before this, I’d been swimming in a body of warm water that soothed me with each gently rocking wave. But now, that buoyancy is nowhere to be found. Instead, I feel cold and wretched.

  I feel.

  And, in feeling, I want nothing more than to go back to that balmy water so I can sleep again within its peaceful and warm embrace. I want to be cocooned by those numbing waters.

  No, Eilish, a woman’s voice commands within my head, behind the jarring ache between my ears, behind the trilling scream I can’t seem to force through my lips.

  It will get better. Brace yourself and be strong.

  A tremor seizes me and ripples through my body, causing my lower teeth to slam against the upper ones as I begin to shake uncontrollably. I feel myself bite down hard on my tongue and the taste of blood is thick in my mouth and throat.

  “She’s having a seizure!” a deep voice says, fear and concern penetrating the words.

  “I never said this would be pleasant,” another voice responds, not quite as deep but just as masculine.

  I open my mouth to scream as another tremor grips me, but find I’m unable to utter even the smallest of squeaks. Instead, my back arches as my fingers grip onto something satiny beneath me. I squeeze until the tips of my nails bite into my palms. Anguish travels through me, shaking my entire being, rattling inside my head like a stray bullet. When the shaking stops, all that’s left moving is my heart, which is beating so hard it feels like it could burst.

  You are almost through the worst of it, Eilish, the voice inside my head insists.

  “Please,” I beg, barely recognizing my own voice. The pain is clearly evident in the word that barely makes it across my tongue.

  “She’s bleeding,” the deep voice announces. “Her mouth.”

  “She’ll be fine,” the second voice declares. It’s hurried and irritated, but there’s fear beneath the words.

  I feel the salty sting of tears as they bleed from the corners of my eyes. Eyes I still haven’t found the strength to open. Not when the pain between them threatens to rip my brain apart.

  Then, as though it never was, the pain is gone. Completely. The tremors stop. I can feel nothing. The only reminder of the horrible agony I’ve just endured is the taste of blood.

  As the seconds tick by, the coldness alleviates. My body begins to warm, as if I’m sitting in front of a blazing fire.

  The impurity has been cleansed, the voice tells me. You are free, Eilish.

  In the wake of the tremors and the torment is an emptiness that is both reward and suffering. Exhaustion claims every cell of my being, but the good news is that I can breathe again. I feel my chest rise as I inhale a deep breath.

  ###

  Dragan

  “Long, slow, deep breaths,” Cambion instructs the angel, who lies on his bed just as still as she was moments before. If not for the gentle rise and fall of her chest, I might wonder if his enchantment just killed her.

  “Continue to breathe in and breathe out,” he says, watching her. I immediately reach over him and pull the sheet back up to her chin to protect her nudity. He glares at me over his shoulder before returning his attention to the angel.

  Fuck him. I don’t care if he’s pissed or not. This dandy isn’t the king he was one hundred years ago. He’s a shadow of the man he once was and I have no respect for him.

  “Everything is going to be fine now,” he finishes, his tone soothing.

  “Is it done?” I ask.

  “Yes.” He begins collecting his crystals but pauses when he reaches her breasts. “Would you prefer to retrieve them for me?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I respond. “Turn your back.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Dragan,” he starts, shaking his head.

  “Turn your fucking back!”

  Cambion does as I insist, and I retrieve the additional crystals from the girl’s unresponsive body. I hand them to him.

  “Then, she is well now?” I ask him as I face the sleeping beauty. She doesn’t exactly look well. She’s just as pale as she was before, and a thin sheen of sweat has broken out across her forehead.

  “I should have been able to clear most of the Atacomite.”

  “Most?”

  “To dissolve all of it would take days,” Cambion responds with little interest. “Her body will be able to handle the remainder on its own. She’ll be weak and will require rest for the next few days, at least.”

  “Then you weren’t able to heal her fully?”

  “I did what I could, given the short amount of time, asshole.” Then he turns to face the sprite. “Sprite, you may feel more tired than usual, as well. The enchantment borrowed your life energy, as well as my own.”

  “Do that mean I’m gonna die sooner than I would have?”

  “No,” Cambion assures him. “It means you’ll require more food and rest.”

  “Oh.”

  Glancing down at the still girl, I realize this is another opportunity to attempt to investigate the angel’s wings. My magic failed, yes, but maybe Cambion’s won’t. “Try to produce her wings,” I order him.

  “Fuck off.”

  I inhale deeply and try to control the rage that simmering just beneath the surface. “Will you try to produce her wings… please?”

  “I thought you had to leave?” Cambion responds and the way he asks the question implies that he wants us to go.

  “We can’t remain much longer, liege,” Thoradin confirms, even as he still faces the wall.

  “How much longer do we have?” I ask him.

  “Eight minutes.”

  “We have time,” I decide and face Cambion resolutely.

  He sighs in frustration but then turns back to the angel. He holds his hands out above her again and closes his eyes. Then, he begins chanting in the old language of Elvish, delivering his words in a commanding tone. There is a brief interlude of silence before he repeats them in a louder voice. Then he falls silent again.

&nb
sp; After another few seconds, he drops his hands and opens his eyes. He turns to face me and shakes his head.

  “It looks as though you’ve been duped, old chap,” he informs me with a smug, self-satisfied smirk. I know Cambion well enough to know he’d enjoy nothing more than for the fucking sprite to have pulled one over on me.

  “I ain’t duped no one!” the sprite yells. “Maybe her wings ain’t showin’ up ‘cause she so exhausted from all your magic!”

  “He has a point,” I admit.

  “If you choose to believe him, then I suppose he does have a point,” Cambion replies. Clearly, he doesn’t.

  And I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve been a fool for trusting the sprite in the first place.

  ###

  Eilish

  Open your eyes, Eilish.

  As if the words are a command, my eyes blink open of their own accord and everything is blurry for a few seconds. A shape directly in front of me begins to delineate and, as my eyes beg my exhausted brain to make sense of the image, I realize it’s a man.

  He’s staring back at me with the same curiosity in his expression that I imagine must also be in mine. I don’t know him. At least, I don’t think I do, but there’s a void of blackness where my memories used to be.

  As I study the man sitting beside me, I notice the brightness that surrounds him, almost as though his bronze skin glows. It’s only then that I realize how stunningly beautiful he is.

  He’s a creature of the light, Eilish, the voice inside my head tells me. You can trust him. You must trust him.

  The beautiful creature parts his full lips and smiles warmly as he continues to stare at me. He appears to be in his early thirties, maybe. His eyes are the color of honey and they seem infinite in their depths. His dark blond hair is short, yet it curls around his pointed ears.

  Pointed ears…

  He’s fae. And the fae are friends to angels. Yes, I can trust him.

  How I know any of this, I can’t say.