Paradise | ONC 2023

[ 4 ] - Spear My Heart

"THAT, on your leg, is a device from LiMag™—short for Light Magic Industries, one of the primary producers of Angel technology. It has several functions. One, most importantly, it'll keep you from actively harming me, which includes trying to...eat me." He shudders, face welling in disgust. Handsomely. "Two, it will track your location, give me information on your vitals, magic, whatnot—and three, it keeps you close to me."

I want to talk. I keep trying, but the spear's still there, still lodged in me. The pain has faded. Adrenaline is pumping, and it's doing its job damn well, but there's pressure in my chest, and I'm wheezing, and I keep pointing with my eyes to the weapon that is lodged in my goddamn chest and the angel gives an apologetic, slightly awkward laugh, leaning forward, remembering that, oh yeah, there's the weapon right there, in my chest, because apparently he forgot.

"Right. Sorry, sorry..." He steps up to me and grabs the device with both hands and presses a button on the shaft. The pointed arrow edge withdraws so it becomes a staff, and he pulls it out easily. Blood flows harder. It's become an undammed river. I can barely move, but I turn my head, blinking, wincing—

"You...talk a...fuck-ton about...rules..." I breathe, trying to shift back, but I'm too weak. There's too much blood on the floor, too much lost.

"Well, as archangels, we protect humans in need from dangers like demons, angry ghosts, monsters, evil of all sorts. And the best protection is found—"

"Shut up and...make sure I don't die..." I mutter, cutting him off, pressing a hand against the wound. The pressure leaves me dizzy, but I need to hold it. He nods, clearing his throat, and kneels in front of me, watching me closely.

"You have...a lot of confidence...in that...device."

"Try to behead me, if you doubt LiMag." He rubs his hands together. A low growl rips from my throat.

"It's...significantly...less fun...when you're asking me to kill you."

The angel smirks, tilting his head up, exposing his long stretch of neck. His alabaster skin is untouched. The bloodlust, the rage, the urge to cut it open—it was there a moment ago. And I try to dig back into that feeling as I lift a claw, curling in the rest, and I angle it against his skin. Upon contact, we spark—that happens with angels and demons—and I try to dig the talon in, drag it across his skin, tear it like a knife into meat—

But I can't. My muscle locks. And it hurts, so I withdraw, wincing, snarling. I pull back.

"See?" the angel's lips smugly curl. He breathes into his palms, cupping them. His skin shimmers; he's so bright, so warm, and without a warning, he sets his hands against the hole in my chest and whispers a spell, and I yelp, thrashing, as the muscles and veins and nerves re-knit where the hole once was. The blood everywhere—on me, the floor, the wall—retreats back into my body. Scales re-form over the wound, closing it, but the scales are indented and dyed gold. It's a strange sort of scar. The mark of an angel.

But I'm not bleeding out anymore. And my leg's healed, the bone re-fused.

Energy's ebbed back into my bones. I ache terribly, but he's healed me.

The angelic, light magic feels all wrong, and itchy, within my body. I shudder, but focus on becoming myself again, and retract back into my normal self, clothes returning, anklet still firmly on, even when I try to rip it off. No wings, no horns—I look human. I want that.

The angel's larger and taller than me again, now that I'm back to normal. Maybe I should've stayed as a monster. Kept the intimidation up.

"Fine...I can't kill you, unfortunately. Congrats." I mutter, still catching my breath. "I'm not thanking you for saving my life, because you're the one who nearly ended it."