What the Halo? I ONC2020 I

Chapter 7: Michaela

I'd done it this time. I had pissed him off so bad that he was about to strangle me.

There I was, scampering on my behind, sore from being dropped like a hot potato on concrete. A puddle of rainwater was making its way into the fabric of my jeans. Grigori's grip was still printed on my throat, making me gasp like a fish above water, while Cain and his heat hovered above me. His eyes spat fire and his muscles tensed.

My angelic ass had definitely seen better days.

Searching for a safer position, my palms encountered more rain and misplaced grit, while Cain's hands closed in on me. I flicked my eyes from one to the other to see if they held any of the blue flames that tortured his fellow demon. I couldn't detect any, but the searing heat, the intensity of his fury ... I needed to protect myself.

I needed my wings.

I closed my eyes and focused on my shoulder blades. I visualized my wing bone popping out in a majestic arch, my white feathers unfolding one by one, stretching ... endlessly. Then, they would envelop me and shield me from demon hands and I would be safe.

Despite my efforts, heat continued blasting my way, so I opened my eyes. Cain's hands drew near, and there were no feathers. I inhaled deeply and tried harder. Pop, unfold, stretch ... nothing.

The next moment, the demon's hand was on my skin. I winced, retreated. He cocked his head and moved forward. "Be still, angel."

"Don't. Cain. No!"

I need my wings, where are my gorgeous wings? My mind went frantic, my pulse quickened in erratic rhythms, I begged my wings to show, but the only thing unfolding were Cain's fingers reaching for my throat.

His fingertips on my skin felt coarse and hot, but not unpleasant. Slowly, he slid his palm around my neck, his thumb drawing lazy circles across my flesh. Death by demon was far sweeter than I had imagined. I held my breath and waited for the finale.

"That's an ugly bruise you've got there, but nothing to worry about. A few days and you'll be back to new," he said in a throaty voice. He pulled back his hand and ran it through his hair, all messed up from his earlier demon encounter.

I blinked, a pointless attempt to grasp the reality of what had happened. Cain didn't hurt, but examined me? And my wings? My wings were gone? My heart sank to the pit of my stomach.

There could only be one explanation for this madness. I glanced up at the sky. Behind the diffused lamplight of the desolate alley, the night leered in darkness. Not a single star peeked through the deck of clouds, an impressive gathering, not only to watch but to judge me: a celestial tribunal.

There was a short moment, an inkling of a nanosecond, in which I wanted to curl up and cry, but that wasn't me. I wouldn't accept defeat so easily. There was more than enough time to get that kiddo home, with or without wings. All these clouds could watch me, while I made my father so proud that he'd shower me with feathers, bundle me up in wings and kiss me on the halo.

The image of my father's proximity tapped into an old longing in my gut, the only ambition worth striving for. So I got up, wiped my hands on my jeans, shook my curls and started moving.

"Now you just wait one second." Cain jumped in front of me. "Not like this. This time, we're going to think it through and you're going to fill me in on whatever whim you concoct. Before you act on it."

"You're supposed to follow me, demon," I bit and winced at the same time, expecting my father to strike me down right here and now, but no such phenomenon occurred. Only the familiar, damp breeze of an October night in Manhattan grazed at my arms. I watched Cain, daring him to break the rules. My rules.

"And I will," he said through closed teeth. "After you tell me the plan."

I watched him, speechless. Should I tell him the truth? That we were going to go with my gut? Or should I confuse him by telling him stories? Irrelevant stories, silly stories, perfect stories for distracting prying eyes? Should I entertain him with a little Beauty and the Beast?

"A moment of reflection on what happened in that bar, wouldn't be bad either," he grunted.

What happened in that bar? Cain's remark forced my brain into retrospect, something it didn't like to do. What happened is that I smelled the demon kiddo and took my chances. Instead of a kiddo, I found an oversized angel-bashing elder. And yet, I was so certain to find the kid in there. What made me think that?

It was hard tracing back my steps and the thoughts that preceded my actions. I was so used to acting on instinct that I wasn't always aware of the incentives that propelled me forward, but when it came to kids, my instincts were seldom wrong.

"Play-Doh," I whispered, remembering. The wheaty, sweet scent that my brain connected to toddlers had lingered on the strong sulfur. That's what had pushed me forward. "Grigori had Play-Doh in his pockets. Why would an elder demon carry Play-Doh?"

"Play what? Don't mess with me, angel. It's not going to work."

"I'm not. I'm telling you the truth." I could hardly believe it myself, but I was. "Play-Doh is a sort of sculpting paste that every five-year-old loves to play with. Its fragrance is so distinct, once you've smelled it, your mind will recognize it anywhere, and I'm telling you, Grigori had it on him."

Cain narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing my expression. "It's doubtful that a demon child would play with Clay-Doh."

Cain was probably right, but I knew I was on to something. A rush of excitement kicked in, making me forget that my butt was freezing and that I no longer had access to wings to make that go away. "And what about demon kids who travel to the human world? Wouldn't they be tempted to try it, or steal it from the other children?"

Cain thought for a while and there was that sparkle in his features that I saw earlier in the coffee shop when I told him about our mission. "We have to tail Grigori."

"We do," I agreed.

Wait, what? I agreed, he nodded, what was going on?

Cain seemed to notice it too. He clenched his jaw and prominently blocked my way out of the alley once again.

"We'll follow Grigori after you've ..." His hand made a circular gesture.

"After I what?"

"You know."

"No. I don't know." I rolled my eyes and watched him. I watched his demon fury catch hold of him, scarlet heat rising up from his neck to his face until flames danced in his dark eyes.

"Would it kill you to thank me for saving your ass?" He kicked his foot into a wall and mindless of the gaping hole he made, he stomped away to the edge of the alleyway.