Dead Moon Chapel

forty

"NO, NO, NO, NO." JERICHO rushed toward the empty bed, lifting the sheets and tossing them aside to uselessly search the bed. He bent down the check underneath. Nothing. He pulled open his closet and emptied out the contents in his desperation. No sign of his angel.

He searched every room, heart beating out of his chest. "Abel? Fuck, what happened?"

No windows showed any sign of a break-in, all locked as they were before. The door was locked when he came back, and nothing in his house was out of place. There was no other explanation for what happened to Abel's body.

"Fuck, I leave for two fucking hours and he's already gone, Jericho, you idiot-"

"Jericho."

The room stilled. Jericho's blood ran cold, his limbs paralyzed and his heart frozen in his chest.

No.

It wasn't possible.

Jericho pinched himself. Once, twice, three times, and he still did not wake up from this dream.

"Jericho, turn around."

With a gulp, Jericho did as he was told.

There he was, in all his glory. Long, white hair, feathered wings, and an endless expanse of ever-searching eyes.

Abel stood before Jericho, bright and warm and real and alive.

Jericho wasted no time. His arms were around him in a second, his face tucked into his neck as he cried. Abel hesitated before his own arms eventually wrapped around Jericho in return.

This time, his tears did not sting of grief. They spilled with joy so great he thought he might burst. He tried to speak, to ask Abel how this was possible, but his words were nothing but a jumbled mess of nonsense.

"Shh," Abel cooed, petting Jericho's hair. "Hey. It's okay. I'm here, I'm real. But Jericho, look at me, I have to tell you something urgent."

Jericho shuddered into him. He didn't look at Abel, only clutched him tighter.

Abel gripped his shoulders and pushed him back, much to Jericho's dismay. He didn't make him go far, though, slipping his warm hands over Jericho's cheeks. His thumbs swiped away his tears.

"If you're only here to tell me something, don't tell me," Jericho whimpered. "Just let me have you until you have to go again."

"No, Jericho, listen to me. I'm not going anywhere, but this is important. Please look at me."

Jericho looked up at last, and the joy he felt subsided the slightest bit. Abel's eyes were not warm and gentle like he was used to. There was something so foreign buried within them, something hot and vicious and dark. Words could not describe that look, and it brought with it a new sense of dread.

He gulped, but said nothing.

Abel took this as his sign to speak. Hands still clutching Jericho's face, he looked at him with a fire that burned hotter than the deepest pits of hell.

"Jericho, we need to kill God."