The Damned Holies (The Fallen Wars 1)

Chapter Three

I walked through the city again, my flimsy disguise back on. There was one more stop I had to make before I leave the city. It pained me that I know I won’t be back in a long time. It’s just a feeling but I know it’s true. I won’t be back for years. I walked past the park again and it was even busier this time. Walkers and runners were out exercising, children were playing on the playground, and friends were catching up over coffee; the city life. It was beautiful. I longed to join the runners and get exercise but I had to keep a low profile. I needed to burn off my energy. I needed lots of energy for the lifestyle I was living and doing practically nothing but sitting for a few hours was making me hyper.

I started to jog at a slow human pace but as I passed by a couple sharing a coffee, I realized how long it had been since I had one myself as the aroma wafted past me on the lake breeze. I was close to the Lake Michigan shore. I stole a businessman’s wallet as he was entering his office building to get money, and honestly, he could afford it. He hadn’t even noticed who I was when I “accidentally” ran into him or the hand that was slipping into his pocket. He was distracted by my beauty, even though his left hand bore a wedding ring. Typical. Human men were lustful, didn’t they know it’s a sin? I smiled to myself at the joke. I went to a coffee shop and bought myself a caramel latte to go. I sipped it gratefully, enjoying the sweetness, as I walked to my destination.

A store selling televisions had the news on, which proclaimed that India and some Middle Eastern countries fell to the angels during the night. Humans had gathered around and watched it with me. They murmured things to each other like, “oh, that’s terrible.” Humans, especially Americans, felt like they rule the world and that nothing could make their country fall apart. Ethnocentrism at its finest. It annoyed me, but I had gotten over it.

Some of the televisions repeated the same, monotone warning. “Beware of the angels. If you see any, do not engage. Report it to the authorities.”

Then, another news program advertised that I was still on the loose, so I took that as my cue to leave with my steaming cup of coffee. I chuckled, yes, I was dangerous, but no, I do not hurt the innocent.

I finished my coffee as I found the house, which was hard to miss, throwing my disposable cup in a nearby garbage can. I circled around to the back and crouched, springing up and landing on the third story window sill. I peered into the house through a crack in the curtains. He isn’t in the empty room, but I heard footsteps coming from the second story. I tried the window but it was locked.

“When will he ever learn?” I muttered. I yanked swiftly on the window, breaking the lock effortlessly. The window was small and far from the floor. I grabbed the edge of the roof and swung myself feet first through the tight fit and landed softly on the balls of my feet.

I chuckled when I saw myself in the full body mirror. I’m extremely beautiful from a distance and it’s hard to say where I get it from; either my perfect angel father or my gorgeous human mother. I have bronze hair, cut off in many layers just below my shoulder blades. My skin is healthy and radiates the sunlight it collects, although flawed by countless of faded scars. I’m fairly tall for a woman, being five feet and ten inches tall. My arms and legs are long, toned, and graceful. My mouth is wide and shaped like a cupid’s bow, pun intended. My nose is neither large nor small, normal-sized but somehow delicate-looking. My eyes are my best trait and the most unique. My eyes drastically change color depending on my mood. Right now, my eyes are hazel, which meant I must still be in a good mood from my visit with Grandmother. I suppose it’s better to say that I was beautiful years ago. Things have changed, easier to notice when closer to me. My body was studded with a neverending amount of puffy, shiny scars. Circular scars from bullets, straight scars from knives, ragged scars where my skin just split from blunt objects. I’ve seen it all. I’m worn, battered, bruised. I’ve been tested time and time again.