Mavobella: The Angel Of Death

Chapter 16

After saving my ass—or, at least, dispersing the angry mob that had been all too eager to beat it—Wade vanished like some moody anti-hero from a cheap action flick. Of course, he probably scurried off to his little paradise in one of those seedy Aletopia clubs, drowning whatever passed for emotions in the strongest drink he could find.

When I saw him again, he was at Nicole’s place, sitting on one of her coach's, looking somehow more drunk than when he’d bailed me out of the chaos. For once, he wasn’t asleep or slumped over. No, he was staring at a blank wall like it had wronged him in some unspeakable way. A bottle sat loosely in his hand, and for all the world, it seemed like he was having a silent, one-sided conversation with that wall.

“I’ll do the cooking,” Nicole declared, her tone leaving no room for argument. Her apron was already on, tied tight, like she was about to go into battle with vegetables and spices. “Can you help me clean up this shithole?”

I glanced around, resisting the urge to make a snarky comment. It didn’t seem like this place had ever been cleaned. Dust was practically a resident. For someone who’d saved my butt on multiple occasions—both literally and metaphorically—cleaning up was probably the least I could do. Though, truth be told, I wasn’t sure even the best cleaning supplies could save this place.

“Thanks for saving me back there,” I said, awkwardly picking up a mop and dunking it into the nearest bucket of cold, murky water. It felt weird to express gratitude while scrubbing the floor, but at least it made me feel like I was contributing something.

Wade just shook his head. No words, no eye contact, just a subtle, almost imperceptible shake, like he wasn’t sure whether saving me was worth it. Classic Wade.

“How long have you been here?” I asked, trying to make a conversation while scrubbing away a mysterious sticky substance. My brain screamed at me to stop, but my mouth had already gone rogue.

Everything in the room seemed to freeze for a second. Nicole’s footsteps in the kitchen went silent, her cooking utensils suddenly eerily still. Clearly, I had just violated some unspoken rule.

Nicole didn’t even have to say anything. Her silence was loud enough.

Wade finally responded, his voice low and rough, like a broken record barely making it through a tune. “Long enough.”

He didn’t elaborate, didn’t look away from the wall, just let those two words hang in the air like cigarette smoke. After what felt like an eternity of awkward silence, he sighed. “I was one of the first ones here.”

Oh, great. I’d stepped in it again. But I couldn’t just stop there, could I? Nope. My brain was on autopilot. “What did you do to end up here?”

“Mav!” Nicole’s voice cut through the room from the kitchen like a warning shot. It was the verbal equivalent of someone throwing a rolling pin at my head.

Wade, to my surprise, chuckled. Well, it was more like a sad cough, but I was counting it as a laugh. “It’s okay,” he assured Nicole, waving off her concern with a lazy hand. “I killed.”

He paused dramatically, almost like he enjoyed dragging this out. He took a long sip from his bottle, staring back at the wall as if his crime was projected there for all to see. “I killed an angel.”

The mop froze in my hands, my mind doing mental gymnastics trying to process what he’d just said. Killing an angel? Even in the Imperium’s long list of unforgivable crimes, that one took the cake. It was like trying to imagine a dog eating homework—something that happens in theory, but you never actually see.

Wade stood up, stumbling over to the kitchen, grabbing another bottle of booze like it was his best friend. Nicole watched him with an expression that was somewhere between pity and frustration. Clearly, this wasn’t the first time they’d gone through this particular dance.