Radicle (Terminal trilogy #2, can stand alone)

30: Dead man walking

 While not being an angel anymore had its potential benefits, it also came with one drawback I was unwilling to test- in all likelihood, my ability to absorb damage and forget pain was utterly gone. And it was just my theory, but I also had a nagging suspicion all the old damage I had sustained in combat- the bullets still stuck in my gut and the healed over cuts- were going to start hurting again.

Because Raphael was a healer who cured our scars. But he took away what little pain we felt with medication, not magic, and surely every wound I had taken was still buried under his skin thick layer of makeup.

Which meant, if I was correct, that my body was going to split at the seems unless I figured something out. Or was, hopefully, mistaken.

I was Graceless, but at least I found relief in the fact that I didn't have to choose a new name- Michael Castellano was already drawn with blood. If I was pressured to choose now, I'd likely end up naming myself Pebble or Cement and then I'd be stuck with that name for the rest of the eternity.

I was yet to bleed. I left the orphanage with one place in mind and Michael's last words entirely forgotten. Everything was dream-like and hazy, except I knew far too certainly I was awake.

Purgatory was at the other end of town, and I suppose I was a little too blood-soaked for the humans in town's taste. But it's not like they stopped me, and I suppose every angel makes this trek eventually. From Heaven to Purgatory, it didn't make sense to leave the flock.

So to speak.

The moment I walked through the door, a fallen angel looked me over, recognized my face, tapped my shoulder and ran off. He returned shortly with Luxury and-

I really, really want to say the angel next to him was Michael. But she wasn't. The pronoun there being the first hint. She was a woman I had never seen before, but she had the same sort of honey gold hair and dewy blue eyes and bone structure and height and-

Well. It actually stopped at physical. But the physical was damn close, so it's all I could focus on. She dressed sort of plainly, a sweater and a floor-length skirt, and her eyes were heavy and sort of bored.

Someone may have said something- at least, I got the impression someone had- but I had missed it.

The woman didn't laugh. "Lucky." She said.

"That's her name." Luxury said quietly.

"She looks like-" I started, pointing dumbly, but Luxury interrupted.

"Don't talk about it."

"So." Lucky said. "I've heard you're called Nichael."

I cringed hard and Luxury legitimately gave a tiny gasp. Was he shocked I fell or at the improper use of my name?

"Michael Castellano, actually." I said, and the both of them looked very confused. Actually, Lucky looked kind of angry and Luxury just seemed offended.

"You don't seem many fallen with last names." Lucky said.

"I'm not fallen." I sighed. "Just human. Michael ripped all my Grace out."

Luxury again seemed both shocked and offended, and I assumed he kept making exaggerated faces to convey his thoughts without interrupting Lucky.

"What did he hold against you?" She asked.

"Well..." I said.

And I just about told it all. There was plenty I left out- for example, most of Tegan could be trimmed out of the story, and it was still a sore subject anyways. But Lucky seemed quite interested in Michael's plans and happenings. She wasn't quiet though, just impressionless- her voice was soft enough to leave little mark, but she spoke enough that it should have been quite memorable. But it wasn't. She made me tired, and indeed, reminded me of Michael just enough that I would've been entirely willing to curl up in her arms.