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

Part 9

Michael's arms were outstretched, eager to greet me when I arrived home from school. And as pathetic as I was, I went to him and allowed myself to collapse into his arms. He stroked my hair and did not say a word as I explained my vision.

I couldn't believe Azrael would side with Beelzebub. My visions must be faulty from the fall; no longer a hundred percent accurate.

"I wouldn't tell her," Michael said after I had grown silent.

"Why"

They might not be even true."

"Even so-"

"Even so, visions can become self-fulfilling. You tell her and-"

"She will join Beelzebub because she will think it's her destiny or her choices will be-"

"Swayed exactly. Don't tell her," his voice took on his commander tone that was just a bit too forceful.

Anger coursed through my veins and his hands surely felt my tense muscles because he rubbed my arms and kissed me on the cheek. His lips trailed my face, from my cheek to my nose and finally, my mouth.

"Come home, Laoel," he mumbled against my lips.

"I can't leave her."

He sighed and as I snuggled closer, his body faded into thin air.

***

Azrael's recklessness was only making me more anxious for her future. She had come home shortly after Michael left and I could have sworn she was sprouting bruises but upon opening her door, apart from a dried blood, she had been fine.

I blew out a frustrated breath and reached up for a book. The best thing about this school was the library. The tall, numerous shelves filled with thick leather bound books and paperbacks was similar to the heavenly plane. Although, that glorious library held over ten million books while this one contain only twelve hundred.

I reached up for a particularly old looking book only to bump hands with someone else and them snatch it off the shelf.

"Hey! I was going to read that," I snapped at Barakiel.

"Why? How did you know what is in it?" he raised his eyebrows in humour.

"The spine, jackass," anger flared in my body, "the title gives me a pretty good idea."

I winced. Jackass? What was wrong with me? Stress. It was coursing through my body, draining my energy and rendering me weak, stress had to be it.

"Feisty today; how unlike you," he said but I was already walking away.

"You don't know anything about me," I muttered.

He continued to follow me around, scratching at his ginger hair, and flicking through the book. His face was clenched in frustration that brought a smile to my lips and an unwanted thought. Cute.

Honestly Laoel...

Constructing a mental wall to block those stupid thoughts, my focus turned to logic. The book. It must hold some significance to Bara and Beelzebub and might explain my vision. I sauntered over to him, watching his green eyes alight with suspicion, and laid a hand on his arm, smiling as dazzling as I could.

"Hey," I said, keeping my smile in place.

He shook his head and pushed my hand off, blowing out a heavy breath.

"You must be getting your period," he remarked.

My what?

My limbs became stone, allowing my heart to pound harder against my chest, and my fingers trembled. Surely Father won't make me endure that. Women went through their cycles every month and I hated seeing them whimper in pain and try to go through the days as if they were not being internally ripped apart from the inside.

"I'm an angel," I whisper.

"A fallen angel. More human than ever before. You experience their pain, hunger... lust," he draws out that last word, heat flooding into my cheeks.

Screw this.

As quick as a viper, my hand shoots out and snatches the book from his hand, careful not to lose the page he was on. I scan the writing and gasp.

A FICTIONAL HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF THE SUPPOSED ATTACKS ON "HEAVEN" AND METHODS USED.

I had not fully comprehended what has been written on the spine when I first reached for it. This book was old, the spine with "Angels" written in gold was falling apart, and could possibly have been based on the few true attacks that have taken place over the centuries, making it not fictional at all. There was only one reason why Bara would be reading this.

"You're going to attack the heavenly plane," I whisper, meeting his determined gaze.

"Maybe," he said, pulling out a white bottle from his jean pocket and spraying its stinging contents into my face.

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Sorry for the wait and small chapter. I have hit a massive writers block but hopefully this is enough to satisfy ;)

~The Falcon