The Love of an Angel

Gabriel: Chapter 1

I walked out, knife in hand, blood dripping down onto the soft ground below me. He was dead, just like the man wanted, and I was paid, just as was required. But no money could fill the void in my soul. I left the house just before I heard the wife shrill, waking her neighbors, the lights flicking on. I was used to the sound, like a song one plays over and over again until you can't hear it anymore. Just another life sent to the other side, a life no one will remember.

I made my way to the back of the woods, where my Friesian horse, Ash, was tied to a tree, sullenly eating grass below him. Fast and faithful, I've had him for four years, and I've never had any other horse with such strength and grace as he. He lifted his head, his ears pricked at the sound of my footsteps, whinnying. He nuzzled his nose into my shoulder, letting out a heavy sigh, and I patted his smooth neck.

"It's alright boy," I cooed.

Untying him, I mounted the saddle and commanded him to trot, kicking my heel into his side. He obeyed, and we traversed through town, people glancing at us with fear as we passed by. Although my tattoo was hidden beneath my coat, our presence was to be recognized in these parts. They knew our kind, and they made sure to stay out of our way.

I pulled Ash to a stop in front of Hell Water, a bar only meant for the hardened of heart and pained souls. No one else would survive here. Hitching Ash to the post, I entered into the building, music and brawls filling every corner. Men and their sluts moved out of my way as I headed toward the bar, and I sat down.

"Ah, back again, eh?" the bartender smiled, turning to me, a towel over his shoulder. "Usual?"

I nodded, and he quickly brought me my first shot of the evening, bourbon. I kicked it back and ordered another, and I observed everyone around me. Everyone was laughing, drunk in their drinks and woes. Either they were starting fights or flirting with the whores. I even spotted a few having sex against the walls. Nothing out of the ordinary, except me, the only sober man in the bar. Funny how people escaped their worlds through alcohol, as if there weren't better ways to do it. I didn't think any of us knew any other way.

"Ah, what an idiot am I!" cried an old man across the room. His small blue eyes peered at me through his tears, a wrinkly frown on his face. "I'll never forgive myself!"

I turned back to the bar, drink in hand, when he sidled next to me, his breath that of cheap beer.

"She left me, you know, after what I did to her," he wailed.

I cleared my throat, and I tossed a few coins on the counter.

"Listen, why don't you go order yourself another beer and leave me be, huh?"

He shook his head, playing with the pennies.

"I should've never let her go."

"Then go back to her and fix it," I growled, taking a sip.

He was quiet for a moment, grabbed another drink and raised it to his lips.

"But she's dead."

I sighed, turning to move away, but before I could, he grabbed me by the collar, pulling me to him.

"Don't make the same mistake as I did," he warned, his eyes wide and bloodshot. "Don't dwell in the past sins, leaving yourself to die alone. You'll never recover if you do."

I removed his shaking hand from my shirt, carefully placing them back to his side.

"Look old man, life hurts. Sometimes all you have are past sins." I put an extra coin in his hand. "Now go sit down and drink your sorrows away, ok?"