Chapter 3
Istare in sheer disbelief, pepper spray still armed, while my mind struggles to process the impossible sight before me.
A few seconds of pure, unadulterated silence pass by.
“Look,” he finally sighs. “I’m sorry to scare you, but I need you to take me seriously.
Sure, I could have tried to get to know you and then shown you the proof, but this is significantly quicker.
” He outstretches his wings, giving them a gentle rise-and-fall motion.
As if to signify that they are, in fact, real.
“Now, can I put these away? Somebody else might see, which is not what we want.”
I close my gaping mouth, slowly lowering my weapon. “No…”
“Well, I really need to. If we go somewhere more private, I don’t mind popping them out again—” He startles as I take a bold step forward. “What are you doing?”
“You’re not real.” I reach out to touch the wing, convinced it won’t be there, that I’ll phase right through the image like it’s made of mist.
But I feel the softness against my fingertips.
What the fuck is going on.
“Yes, actually, I am. And it tickles when you stroke it lightly like that. Here, just take a feather if it’s quicker.” Casually, he plucks one from his wing and holds it out to me, as if this is a completely normal thing. After a moment’s hesitation, and still very much in a daze, I take it.
It’s about a foot long, heftier than expected, and softer than anything I’ve felt in my entire life. I run my fingers along the edge, tracing the transition from pristine white to sparkling gold.
“I thought you’d handle this better,” the angel mutters. “I should have just ripped my shirt.”
His wings furl back in and disappear in a brief flash of light.
They were there, and now they’re not. My eyes dart between the feather in my hand and the angel, back and forth.
My mental state wasn’t great before this, but now I think my brain is truly broken.
I don’t know how to reconcile the shape of a man I thought was about to assault me with the impossibly perfect features of a holy angel.
One that is still standing before me without a shirt on.
He has enough chiseled muscles to make any other straight, red-blooded woman weak in the knees.
His face alone could turn him into a celebrity.
It has a rare beauty; the hollowness of his cheeks make his bone structure both prominent and angular.
He’s a mythical being come to life, and he’s just standing there, waiting as I try to process the nature of his existence.
“Wow,” is all I manage to say, because everyone knows that shock makes a person eloquent.
One corner of his sharp, full lips pulls upward, just before he slips his shirt back on. “Alright, that’s done. Let’s go now. Your place or mine, Kae?”
“Wait… What? How do you know my name?”
“I’m an angel, darling. We just know these things.
Also, it’s on your badge. You should probably take that off before wandering into dark places at night.
” He winks with a soft laugh, and even that is beautiful.
Like a heavenly wind on a war drum. “You know, this is usually where a person would ask for my name. It’s only polite. ”
I run my free hand along my scalp, combing my fingers through my ratty hair in dismay. “You have a name?”
The angel laughs again, a bit more heartily, and it gives me the chills.
His smile is too overwhelmingly charming, full of teeth white as pearls.
It doesn’t belong in this realm. “Of course I have a name. I’ve been called many, but Malak tends to be the most common.
It roughly translates to ‘messenger’ in Hebrew, which is a little bit too on the nose, if you ask me.
I don’t love it. How about you call me Dusk, and I’ll call you my Dawn? ”
I stare at him, the feather still clutched in my hand, held up like a quill capable of writing all the secrets of the universe. Maybe it’ll write the words I can’t seem to find, too.
“I understand this is a lot for you to process,” Malak, or Dusk, slows his voice, speaking to me as if I’m a frightened animal that he doesn’t want to scare off. “But I really must talk to you, and I’d prefer to not do that in this parking garage.”
The messenger angel needs to speak to me. The messenger angel has a message. “My place isn’t… I can’t just bring a stranger there.”
“Ah, right. You live with your parents, and American parents don’t like their teenagers bringing random men home at night. Well, let’s just find somewhere to sit, then. There’s a small park nearby, yeah? We can talk there.”
I blink, staring at him for a moment. “I’m twenty-two.”
His strange, supernatural eyes skate down me in a way that feels decidedly unholy. “Minor difference.”
“Yeah. One is a minor, one is not.” I take a step back, even if it only puts my back against the wall. My defensive instincts, however useless they are tonight, are rising up again.
“You’re all teenagers to me. Can we please go now?”
“Why do you want me to leave?” Don’t let kidnappers take you to a second location!
“Because you clearly need to sit down for this. And unless you’re willing to let me hang out in your car with you, I was hoping to find a nice bench.”
I scowl, watching him with wary eyes. It doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice here.
If angels are real, what else is there? Heaven and Hell?
I’ve never believed in the afterlife, but refusing to hear an angel’s message seems like a pretty textbook way to earn myself a sentence of eternal torment, fire, and damnation.
“Okay.” I take a deep, steadying breath. “I’ll listen to whatever it is you need to tell me. The hospital has a courtyard we can go to. It’s closer, just outside the building and around the corner.”
And there’s more likely to be security cameras on the walk there.
If I fail his angelic test and he drags me to Hell, some rent-a-cop security guard isn’t going to save me, obviously.
The precautions are just in case he turns out to be a serial killer with some very convincing ‘I’m an angel sent by God’ bait.
“Good.” Malak nods, a smile creeping onto his lips that does nothing to console me. He immediately turns around and starts walking in the right direction, but I struggle to force myself to move.
“I can hear you’re not following me, you know,” he calls after a moment, proving his point by not bothering to look back at me.
Reluctantly, I find the courage to go forward.
I keep a careful distance as I trail behind him, and it doesn’t take us long to get to the courtyard.
However, the few minutes of baited silence are almost painful.
We don’t pass a single soul. Not even a night shift nurse on a smoke break.
If this turns out to be an elaborate trap, I’m sure I’ll look like a complete idiot on the security footage for following him.
I can see the headlines now: ‘Girl Believes Her Murderer Was An Angel. More at Ten.’
And yet, when he plops down on a metal park bench and motions for me to join him, my dumb ass still complies.
“Lovely courtyard you have here,” he muses casually, looking around. “Though I’ll never understand why humans cut down forests just to put in their own boring turf grass.”
Humans. Because he’s not one of us. “You’re seriously an angel?”
“Correct.” There’s a touch of humor in his voice. “Didn’t the wings make it obvious? What more must I do to convince you?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of movement near my feet, and I swing my head around to look at… Flowers? I’m certain those weren’t there a moment ago.
“Life is better with a bit of color, isn’t it?
” His voice calls me to look up at him, which I immediately regret doing.
His eyes are not only vibrant gold, but they’re also glowing now, as if a small light was placed inside his irises.
“I know, tulips aren’t in season anymore, but I have a soft spot for them. ”
I shake my head, trying to clear the fog from it. I still can’t quite tell if I’m hallucinating all of this or not. He just made a flower magically grow out of thin air. Nothing makes sense anymore.
“What do you want from me?”
He flashes me a broad smile. “You don’t have the faintest idea of the exceptional blessing you’ve been given, do you?”
“Me.” I blink hard, failing to make my voice form a question.
“Yes, you.”
Exceptional. I’ve never been particularly ‘exceptional’ at anything.
Good, maybe, but certainly not exceptional.
Which… makes sense now. He’s simply mistaken, and he’s put me through the wringer for no good reason.
Crazy life experience, but I’ll be happy when it’s over.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, but there’s no fucking way. ”
“Mm, but there is, actually.” His lips purse, obviously holding back a grin.
“I’m serious. You have the wrong girl.”
“No, I’m quite certain it’s you.”
I look down at myself, genuinely checking to see if I still have a body. Death would be the most logical explanation for a rendezvous with an angel, wouldn’t it? “I don’t know if I’ve done enough good shit to get into Heaven.”
Malak snorts. “You’re not dead, and it is certainly not my job to bring you to the afterlife.”
“I don’t even go to church—”
“Look, this is quite cute and all, but I’m never going to be able to tell you the reason I’m here if you can’t get out of your shock.”
“What shock? I’m not shocked.”
The angel laughs, the warm sound passing for such genuine happiness that it makes me freeze. I stare at him, incredulous, until he leans back against the bench. “You’re a terrible liar, you know. Like, really, truly awful at it.”
I swallow, fixating my eyes on a random spot in the distance. My brain is so muddy, I can hardly think straight, but I believe there are five options here: I’m either dead, dreaming, hallucinating, or in reality.
Wait. That’s only four. Goddammit, I can’t even count correctly!