Return of the Disgraced Archangel

Breaking Down

     Percy stood at the bow of the ship, his hair and his unbuttoned coat jacket whipping in the wind. In his fingers, a cigarette burned, smoke curling from the end. His eyes were trained on the horizon, where the sun was setting, painting the sky orange and the clouds pink.

     He took a drag on the cigarette and blew out a stream of smoke. With his free hand, he traced the polished wooden banister. He looked down at it and noticed that his finger was moving in the shape of a reversed pentagram. He forced himself to stop and looked back up at the horizon.

     His mind was running fast as he took another breath from the cigarette. Before his eyes, he kept replaying Zoë's death. The sound of her cry of pain kept ringing in his ears. He closed his eyes tightly, to hopefully keep the image out of his brain, but it was no use. The memory seemed even more vivid when played against the darkness of his eyelids.

     A hand tapped him on the shoulder. Percy whirled around with his hand curled into a fist, ready to strike at whoever touched him. He caught himself as he saw Nico before him, who was cowering slightly.

     Percy let out a breath as he put his fist down. "Sorry." He muttered. "What's going on?"

     "Meeting in ten minutes. In the dining room." Nico said, eyeing Percy warily. He slowly backed away, before turning and walking back across the deck, far away from the Fallen Angel.

     Percy sighed and turned back around. The sun had dipped well below the horizon now, the sky turning black as the stars began to peak out. He looked at the cigarette as he rolled it in between his fingers. He glared at it as he crushed it in his hand. When he curled his fist, all that was left was a pile of ash in his palm.

     He brought it up to his face and blew the ash. The ash flew out of his palm and fell on the world below them. He rested his elbows on the railing as his head fell in hands.

     "What is happening to me?" He asked himself. "I'm better than this."

     'Are you?' A deep voice came from somewhere.

     Percy looked around, but no one was on the deck with him. He looked down at the railing. In the polished wooden surface, a face that wasn't his stared back at him. But it was. His burned, scarred, red devil face was looking back at him.

     'Are you better than this?' It asked him. 'Was it not you who slayed Kronos brutally? Who led young Bianca to her death? Who let Aurora get kidnapped? Was it not you who killed his own twin brother?'

     "He was going to kill me. And don't bring up Bianca and Aurora." Percy told his reflection. His eyes started to narrow.

     His reflection to glare back. 'Face it. You're the worst angel to ever exist. If Zoë saw you, she would think you're pitiful.'

     Percy was going to spew an argument back, his anger mounting, but he realized where the voice was coming from. His own mouth. He was speaking his insecurities without realizing it. He was arguing with himself.

      Percy gritted his teeth and forced his eyes forward. He seemed closer to the railing now. In his argument, he had started to lean forward. Any more and he would be on the verge of falling over the railing. He didn't have his wings to save him if that happened. The fall wouldn't kill him, maybe, but it would hurt like a bitch, and leave him out of commission for a day or two while he healed.

     He backed away from the railing and turned his back towards it. His legs were shaky as he walked to the stairwell. He gripped the handrail as he stumbled down the stairs. Once he got to the bottom, he reached into his jacket pocket and felt around it. His hand brushed against the feather, but he ignored it as his hand grasped the metal flask. He pulled it out.