Fallen Angel

Chapter 29.2

Every angel waited anxiously for Gabriël and Raphael to return from the Mortal Realm. Soon, the whispers coming from the Gates grew louder, all saying the same thing; one of the Resia Nephilim was dead. She could scarcely believe it. These were the same Nephilim who had taken in Joan, considered the strongest and most valiant of all of God's warriors on Earth. If one of them could die... what hope was there for the rest?
Gabriël came back alone, having left Raphael behind to treat the wounded at the Castel. He confirmed the death of Juan Ponce de Leon, lover of Olympe de Gouges, and asked for volunteers to retrieve bodies from the Sanctum. When he mentioned a young girl might still be alive, many stepped forward to join him.
As soon as Margaret saw their returning figures appearing in the grey morning sky, she hurried to the Hospitium. The angels who had helped Gabriël were already leaving; their heads hung in defeat, their morose expressions chilling Margaret to the bone. She came upon Gabriël in the corridor which led to the surgery.

"How many?" she asked.

"One dead, one barely alive," he replied dejectedly. "The healers are attempting to save the girl. I've already sent for—Raphael!"

Before Margaret could turn around, Raphael sprinted past them without saying a word, going straight for the operating theatre. The door slammed shut behind him, and an eerie silence fell in the corridor. Margaret slipped her hand into Gabriël's, hoping to bring him some comfort. He felt ice cold.
After an hour, Raphael came back out. He met their hopeful gaze. Tears glazed his brown eyes as he quickly averted, his lips pressed into thin lines. Margaret had never seen him struggle with his emotions so badly. It could only have meant one thing — the girl hadn't made it. Gabriël approached the physician, but Raphael raised a hand.

"Please don't. Not now."

Nodding in understanding, Gabriël fell back. Margaret's heart went out to the despondent Archangels. And to the Nephilim, who had lost far too much in so little time.

"The girl has been taken to the same room her mother is in," said Raphael. "I never thought I would be confronted with the fact we don't have a proper morgue. I'm not sure what to do with them."

"I do." Gabriël and Raphael turned to Margaret as she spoke. "Tell me where they are. I will take care of them."

"Marina, I cannot ask you to do that," said Gabriël.

"You're not asking; I'm offering. I'm tired of feeling useless. This is something I can do, so please, let me do it."

The Archangels briefly glanced at each other but eventually nodded their consent. Margaret made her way to the recovery room after getting directions from Raphael. She shut the door, closed the drapes and dimmed the lights. Then she filled a bowl with water and grabbed several washcloths, a comb, and some gowns as well, believing it would be more appreciated to dress the bodies in something fresh.
Margaret couldn't bear to see the teenager lying in torn and bloodstained clothes, so started with her. Gently, she removed every piece of clothing. Her breath caught at the wounds the girl had suffered. It was a miracle she had held on for so long. The hand-shaped bruises on her throat suggested strangulation. Her upper body revealed all shades of red, blue, and dark-purple. But her legs, and the inside of her thighs... and higher still.
Margaret tried to keep her emotions in check as she washed the blood away as carefully as possible, but she nearly burst into tears when she discovered semen sticking to the skin. Her hands shook, and she had to steady herself before continuing. It pained Margaret to look at the teenager's youthful face. Underneath the blood and dust lay a perfect porcelain doll. She would've grown into a beautiful young woman had she not met the monsters the Circles had spat out during the night.

A soft flutter of wings drew Margaret's attention away. She gasped upon seeing the Angel of Death before her. Last she heard, the Archangels were looking for Samael, wanting to question him over something that happened long ago. Gabriël had warned everyone in the Vale to stay away from Samael and alert him immediately if they saw the Angel of Death.
Her gaze flicked toward the closed door. She wasn't that far away. But he would undoubtedly catch her if she tried to move toward it. Yet Margaret didn't believe he would harm her. Not intentionally.
Samael drew closer, halting on the other side of the bed. He raised his hand to touch the girl's face but seemed to change his mind and stroked her hair instead.