An Angel's Dance With The Devil [#Wattys2016]

Part 1

~Laoel's POV~

It's been a week since we fell, and each day I grow more worried about my sister. Between the two of us, Azrael was always the one to take charge and get things done. She's always been the dependable one, while I was more than content in the background, with the other (angels that have visions), helping with visions of my own. But now, since coming down from the heavenly plane, it seemed like she had become addicted to sleep. She barely ate, and I knew from experience that these new bodies craved food.

The first day had been a challenge, and once we'd worked out where the supermarkets were and how to use them, we'd become the proud owners of Aisle 3. We'd grabbed all the food we could, then realised our next problem was that we had nowhere to store it. With a little bit of divine intervention once again, we scored this little house. I guess Dad did still care about us, in His own way. It was in the perfect location, with the supermarket a few streets down, and the high school we were to attend not even a 10 minute walk through the parklands behind the house.

It was our first day of school at Carson High and the little black alarm clock read 7:30 am in flashing red. I slammed down my hand on the blaring machine, finally understanding the irritation humans felt towards it.

"Azrael?" I called out, thinking she would hear me, since our rooms were just down the hall from each other. After a minute of no response, I pulled my covers back and padded out of the room and into Azrael's. When I entered her room, it was to a sight that had become all too familiar this past week. Azrael was huddled in the centre of the bed, in the throes of what I could only guess was a nightmare. I hated to see her this way, and assumed she dreamt of falling, or the thing that she fell for. She hadn't told me, and I didn't want to prod her for answers.

The thin purple blanket was drenched with sweat and I pulled it off onto the ground. She stirred but the movement was slight and a few moments later her breathing turned deep again.

"Azrael!"

Her eyes snapped open and a glare was sent my way. This was going to be an interesting battle. It was always a battle with Azrael.

"What Laoel!" she growled.

"School," was all I said and I walked out the room. I seriously did not want to deal with her attitude today.

"I've changed my mind! I'm not going!" she yelled from her bedroom.

My room is the smaller of the two in our house. I preferred it though. Despite its size, a large wooden wardrobe, a desk and chair, a double bed and a white set of drawers, all fit in without cramping. The wooden wardrobe squeaked as I opened it and grabbed my clothes for the day I was in the middle of changing, when I looked up to see Azrael in my doorway, running a brush through her wavy black hair. I could tell she used her super speed. Fully dressed with a backpack over her shoulder, she was ready for school, her earlier protest forgotten.

"You don't have to come. And you shouldn't be using your gifts." It wasn't the first time we'd had this argument. "Someone will see you."

"Let them. They'll just look insane if they're stupid enough to say anything," she said.

She threw her hairbrush down the hallway. There was no resulting bump so I assumed she managed to land it on her bed. Although I don't want to admit it, she was right about the neighbours. Our wacky neighbours on Palo Verde Drive didn't need further reasons to look mad; from the crazy cat man (yes, man not woman) to what I assumed were drug addicts in number 1516, this street had crazy seeping from the cracks and into the gutter.

"I am coming. I was tired that's all. Besides, only a fool would pass up the oh-so-thrilling prospect of attending high school." You could almost peel the paint from the walls with the disdain dripping from her voice. It wasn't easy, making the transition from Archangels to mere humans. At least we still retained some of our immoral traits, with the speed and healing, but for the first time in millennia (is that the right amount of time?) I hadn't had a vision in days. And despite her 'profession' being morbid to most, I know Azrael had to be missing reaping the souls. It had been her life. She stood impatiently, watching me run my brush through my mousey brown curls. "You should cut it."