Mavobella: The Angel Of Death

Chapter 24

I blinked, my vision slowly adjusting to the soft light filtering through a nearby window. The warm glow of the late afternoon sun bathed the room in a quiet serenity, casting delicate shadows that seemed to sway in rhythm with my own slow breaths. As I lay there, the scent of dust mingling with something earthy filled my senses, grounding me to this fleeting reality. Beneath me, the bed was softer than anything I’d rested on in recent memory—soft enough that it felt foreign, a luxury stolen from some forgotten life.

My body felt distant, like it was half-remembering itself from a haze. As I tried to shift, a dull ache spread through my neck and shoulders, anchoring me in a bruised awareness of the past few days. I turned my head, the weight of it heavier than I expected, and saw Wade seated beside me, lounged in a chair with one leg propped on the other, a newspaper sprawled open in his hands. His eyes flickered across the page with the smallest furrow of concentration, the faintest pull at the corner of his mouth betraying whatever serious headline had caught his attention.

“Morning, Vampire Girl.” He greeted me without looking up, his tone dry as he flipped the page, the rustling sound breaking the stillness. There was a weight behind his casual tone, a forced lightness that only served to remind me of the chaos I vaguely remembered.

I groaned, attempting to push myself up, though every inch felt like a rebellion of stiff muscles and lingering aches. “How long was I out?”

Wade’s gaze lifted from the paper, his eyes scanning me briefly, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips in that familiar way. “A couple of days, give or take. You’ve missed some riveting headlines.”

I squinted at the newspaper, trying to make sense of the bold print. I expected updates on angelic battles, maybe rumors of sea monsters, but my chest tightened as I read the headline: “Where is Mavobella?” Anubistopia had clearly noticed my absence, and—unsurprisingly—the gossip was mixed with the usual accusations of me being the bearer of bad luck. Other headlines followed: “Tides Still Rising,” “Quakes Disrupting Island,” and notably, “More Daytime Zombie Sightings.” It seemed Anubistopia was leaning hard into the belief that I had cursed it. Not that it was new; rumors about me had circulated since my arrival, whispers branding me as a bad omen, as if I was the source of every anomaly this strange land had known.

“A couple of days?” My voice sounded rough, catching in my throat, and I coughed to clear it. “I thought I just passed out for a second.” The memory felt surreal, just a blink, as if time had collapsed into itself.

“You did,” Wade replied, folding the paper with a deliberate slowness and resting it on his lap. His tone was calm, but there was something darker in his gaze. “But it wasn’t as simple as that. You were poisoned.”

“What?” The word escaped me, louder than I’d intended, and a sharp pain flared up as if in protest.

“That coffee you drank.” Wade’s voice held an unsettling matter-of-factness, as if he were reciting something as trivial as a grocery list. “It was laced with something strong enough to bring down an angel.”

My mind was reeling, searching for some way to piece together this jagged puzzle. “But… Isaac wouldn’t—”

“It wasn’t him.” Wade shook his head, cutting me off with a grim set to his jaw. “One of his workers. Apparently, they were hired by some faction of angels who’ve decided that thinning the herd is the answer. Too many angels, not enough demons. Survival of the fittest, and all that.” He shrugged, but his expression softened slightly as he added, “Nicole’s been pacing around, worried sick.”

Just as if summoned, Nicole appeared in the doorway, her arms crossed and her face an unreadable mixture of relief and frustration. The warm glow of the setting sun framed her, giving her an almost angelic aura if not for the restless tension that radiated from her every movement.