Until The End Of Time

Chapter 3. Before you

Now everything is like my heart,

a color at the edge of blood:
the grey of your absence, the color of poison, of thorns,
the gold when we meet, the season ablaze,
the yellow of autumn, the red of flowers, of flames,
and the black when you cover the earth
with the coal of dead fires.

And the sky, the road, the glass of wine?
The sky is a shirt wet with tears,
the road a vein about to break,
and the glass of wine a mirror in which
the sky, the road, the world keep changing.

Don't leave now that you're here-
Stay. So the world may become like itself again:
so the sky may be the sky,
the road a road,
and the glass of wine not a mirror, just a glass of wine."

***
The rain has just stopped for a moment. Kye shakes violently due to the cold wind blowing on her wet hair and body. Michael catches a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye, and the sight makes him frown. He checks his watch and then tilts his head to whisper something in one of the men's ears. The guy walks to the car and comes back with an oatmeal-colored blanket. He then throws it on top of Kye.

She looks up in surprise and quickly wraps the fabric around her body. It's still not warm enough but better than before.

They hear the sound of several cars approaching. In front of the line is a moss-green jeep. Two guys come out of it. One holds a black lockbox. Michael turns back and walks over to where Kye still crouches on the ground. He sighs, then grabs her elbows and lifts her on her feet. She can imagine how his hands feel under these leather gloves. They are always cool, cold even, but get warmed up almost instantly every time they touch her skin. They are strong, clean, and filled with angelic grace that makes her skin prickle. When their eyes meet fully for the first time, Kye can see a mixture of emotions in his that she can't quite read. They're gone before she knows it, and there stands Michael the archangel again, completely unexpressive.

"Michael..."

Kye searches his face for something that's not there anymore. She holds on to the hope that somewhere inside, he's not as unaffected as he seems. Michael still holds on to her elbows, a little longer than necessary. His face is inches away from her. She can see his long eyelashes flutter, shadowing his stormy blue eyes. His full lips slightly curve at the corners, beckoning, and his scent, something so fresh and clean like the air after the rain, under a mixture of mint and cedar, is so familiar and intoxicating that she can't help but leans into it a little. Michael tilts his head and gazes into her eyes the way he usually does when something puzzles or intrigues him. She always finds the gestures innocent and lovely, especially when they're complemented by hundreds of random questions that are somehow out of his knowledge, and a lot of times, hers as well. Right now, they just send chills to her bones because she can see nothing in them, no warmth, passion, or curiosity, nothing but a silent threat. You will do what I say and stay quiet, or else. He looks at her in the way a superior being would look at an inferior one, the way someone would study an insect to decide if it should be squished. The way angels look at humans. Before Kye can say anything else, Michael puts two fingers on her forehead. A zap of energy shot through her skin, and everything goes dark after that.

***
"Ok, girls, form a line."

An extremely tall and skinny man in a neat black suit with a stony expression looked down on a group of 5 young girls trying their best to contain their excitement and nervousness at the same time. They were barely out of their teenage. Pitiful little things, some of them could be discarded after 1 or 2 months if the master grew tired of them or something else happened.