Angels and Demons - The First Arc
Back at the apartment

“Your bed, dear, take her to your bed! Up, be quick about it. And find as many sheets as you can, we must staunch the bleeding. You, big guy - Claud, wasn’t it? - Go to the kitchen and put some water on the stove. We’ll need it boiled in order to clean them.”

Gran’ma hadn’t even blinked, when they knocked at her door battered and bleeding. She hadn’t commented on their torn clothes, or the faint reddish glow that still permeated Ange’s skin.

“Please close the door, sweethearts. We don’t want anyone peeking into our private business, do we?”

Claud complied, mouth still hanging open. Gran’ma was bent over Briz’s broken shape. The pale girl’s mutterings grew progressively incoherent and disjointed, and thick drops of sweat pearled on her brow.

“Do you think she’ll?...” Ange stuttered as they handed Gran’ma a wet shred of fabric. Once upon a time, she had trained to be a nurse, and it showed in the learned precision of her hands.

“Don’t think dark thoughts. She’s a strong one, I can see. She still has much fight left in her.”

Ange nodded, and retreated to the shadow of the doorway. Behind them, in the kitchen, pans crashed. Claud brought them one full of boiling water. He didn’t meet their eyes as they passed it along. Neither did he peer into the now messy room.

Was he avoiding them? Sure, maybe they would have gotten out intact if it hadn’t been for his hesitation, but…

“But…” Gran’ma added. “This isn’t your average wound. It’s infected. Angel magic, I’d wager, which makes very little sense, considering…”

Ange swallowed, but their throat was dry. “Considering?...”

“You two are still, thankfully, alive.”

“Yeah.”

They just couldn’t blame their friend. Ange had gotten them all into this in the first place. Just because they were… a demon, or something close, it didn’t mean they were any more prepared. It didn’t make them invulnerable, much less their still very human, very fragile companions.

Realizing this did nothing to quench their helplessness. They needed to do something. Anything. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the Findɴovel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“I think I can cure her,” they said.

“Oh?” Gran’ma was still facing away from them, while Briz attempted in vain to push her hands away. “How so?”

“When I visited the care center…” Ange could imagine Gran’ma sharp gaze as if she had grown eyes in the back of her head. There were many things they hadn’t told her, though perhaps a part of them had always known the reveal to be unavoidable. “There was this dying woman. Demon-fever. I could feel something stirring inside of her, and I just… I willed it away, and it…”

“Did she survive?”

“She might have.”

This was it. Ange told her about the angel and the destruction it wrought. They told her about their doomed confrontation at the lake. They told her about their gang, about their many raids on supply trucks and how they distributed the spoils.

And she simply nodded along, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Aren’t you angry?” Ange blurted. “Why aren’t you angry? I don’t understand!”

“Shush, don’t disturb our patient.”

Said patient had fallen into a restless slumber, which was likely the best Gran’ma could hope to manage. She patted Briz’s arm tenderly and walked to where Ange was standing, leading them out into the dimly lit hall.

“No, I am not angry at you, Angel, I-”

“Don’t call me that!” They interrupted. “I’m not…”

“Alright.” Gran’ma sighed. “Alright. I’m not angry at you, dear. What I am is worried. You’re young, and already taking so many risks, already in so much danger.”

“Our world as it is is going to shambles. What am I supposed to do, sit back and mope about its destruction? Should I just do nothing?”

Gran’ma shook her head. “I understand…”

“I’m not sure you do.”

But there were many things she could have mentioned: the tightening governmental impositions, the declining rations, and then the prisons, the military, the guard, not to mention the punishments they might inflict.

She could have mentioned the disappearances, she could have tormented Ange with the vision of their own face in a poster the guard wouldn’t want to make public, though she certainly would. One that might say “Have you seen my child?“, or, perhaps, “Rejoice, for another delinquent has been brought to justice”.

She could have screamed, she could have scolded them, but, instead, she said, in a near whisper, “I am worried that you thought you had to hide this from me.”

“Sorry,” was all Ange had to say.

They sighed. How long had they been holding their breath? Long enough for Gran’ma to hug them, and face them with a strained smile.

“If you think you can help, please. But be careful. She isn’t exactly stable, I’m afraid.”

Back in the bedroom, Briz had fallen eerily silent. Ange dragged a wooden bench to sit at her side. Closing their eyes, they sought the familiar prick of the supernatural, deeper and deeper.

There.

They called to it. To the force inside their friend, much brighter, much more alive, than the woman’s had been.

It didn’t listen.

Why should it? It wasn’t meant for them, meant to answer to them. It wasn’t made of the same thing, nor for the same purpose.

Why shouldn’t it laugh, why shouldn’t it mock them, expel the intruder too naive to know their place?

When Ange opened their eyes, they met Gran’ma’s silent gaze and shook their head. They headed to the kitchen on shaky legs.

“Is she alright?” Claud sat at the table, peering into an empty cup. On any other day, the apartment would have seemed too small for him, like a toy in an adult’s hand. Today, shrunken into himself, he fit.

“For now.”

“I… it’s my fault. I should never have let you get into this mess in the first place.”

Ange moved in front of him, picking the cup from his hand so he would just finally stop looking away. “She wanted to do it and you held her back. You held us back. Again.”

This wasn’t rage, not yet.

“Somebody has too! You can’t go around doing as you please, it’s insane!” He paused, stuttering for words that wouldn’t come. “It’s all a children’s game to you, isn’t it? Because you knew - you did - that you wouldn’t be the one who ended up dead! No, you’re too special for that.”

“Claud!”

“Pity she isn’t. And I’m not. So, I don’t know what other plans you-”

“Stop.” Ange raised their voice. “I don’t want to hear a single word more from you today!”

“You wouldn’t listen, either way.”

With this, Ange slammed the kitchen door behind them. Still, before they could walk away, they couldn’t help but say, “Nobody ever told you to play the savior, you know?”

The shuffling of a chair told them that Claud had heard.

“It is almost dawn, dear,” Gran’ma said, appearing beside them. “You must be tired, so why don’t you go sleep? You can have my bedroom.”

“I can’t.” A pause, a heavy breath. It didn’t calm the throbbing of their headache. “I can’t sleep like this.”

“I thought so. I was planning on going to the distribution station to collect our food rations for the week, but maybe you, young one, wouldn’t mind doing so, would you? Take the tunnels, they’ll be much safer than outside.” She grinned. “But catch a good dose of fresh air, while your at it, eh? I think you need it.”

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