Chapter 1
Chapter One
They killed a group of homeless people in the old Leicester Square; it was a public execution, so everyone went to see.
I stood in the midst of crowd, my feet unable to run from the gallows.
I should’ve taken this chance, while everybody was preoccupied with the soon-to-be-dead-people, to steal whatever I could from the garbage bins before anyone else put their dibs on them.
But like everybody else, I couldn’t steer my eyes away from the square.
There were two of them this time, one boy and a girl.
The boy was probably around my age, eighteen and skinny, with gaunt cheekbones and greasy clumps of dark hair that hung to his shoulders.
The girl looked much younger, fourteen perhaps.
I didn’t know them; they weren’t part of my crowd.
I tried to barricade my heart from any sympathies as an angel slowly marched toward them, his sword still clipped to his belt. I’d never known them, but they were still humans. They used to be my people.
A priest stood on a platform wearing a black robe with white collar.
He was much younger than any priests I used to know.
I didn’t think any of them had survived when the angels came.
However, this priest was much different from the old priests.
For one thing, he held himself with such hauteur, walking back and forth, his eyes gleaming with wicked glee as he rattled off a list of crimes.
I narrowed my eyes at him with distrust. Traitor.
Many humans tried to fall to the angel’s good graces.
It was their ticket to survival and a better way to live compared to those of us who had to scavenge for food and risked being the angels’ prey.
But becoming the angels’ pet would mean betraying humans. I hated them more than the angels.
“… robbery and trespassing the district compound. These criminals attempted to steal food rations from a private warehouse. Stealing is punishable by death. May your death clean your sins before you are presented to the great Lord. May He show mercy for the evil you have done to yourself and to this world. Amen.”
I wanted to snort. They were just doing whatever they could to survive. Food was so scarce here that we were dying day by day from starvation. If the angels didn’t kill us off, then hunger would. If surviving was a sin, then we were all guilty.
He crossed the air in front of him and stepped back as the angel of death stood in front of the criminals.
I hadn’t seen many angels since their arrival.
I only watched them from afar on the TV screens and flyers about the angels’ call to Earth.
It was much safer than meeting an angel head on.
Whenever I heard the sound of flapping wings, I’d hide into a dark corner until whatever it was flying in the sky was long gone.
I didn’t want to be in their line of sight and draw their attention to me.
It was simple instinct. You don’t draw the predator if you’re the prey.
But I saw this angel more frequently than the others, for it was him who executed hundreds of humans in public.
For an angel of death, he was the most beautiful male I’ve ever seen.
He was tall and muscular. His skin was tanned as if he was kissed by the sun.
His hair was blond and he had shimmering, cold, Caribbean blue eyes.
He was devastatingly beautiful. He was terrifying.
I couldn’t pull my eyes away as the angel ripped into the criminals with his bare hands.
Blood sprayed all over the platform and some of the spectators closest to the gallows were covered in blood.
The atmosphere shifted to fear. They watched in horror as the angel tore their limbs apart with his hands, his body coated with crimson ink.
Innards sloshed to the platform with a heavy, squishy sound and I forced myself not to throw up.
It wasn’t the color of the blood that made me want to claw my own skin.
It was the blood-curdling screams of the criminals as they watched themselves being ripped apart, flesh by flesh until their vocal chords stopped working and what was left of them was nothing but strings of meat and bones.
I still didn’t move when the angel turned toward us with blood dripping down his face.
I could no longer see his blond hair—it was now dyed with red.
His eyes were still the same; the same cold, startling blue that made me shiver with cold dread.
The crowd screamed and climbed over each other as they tried to run away from the square.
I was shoved as they ran past me toward their hidey holes like cowering rats.
I wanted to follow them, to run and blend myself with the flock of sheep but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the wolf.
Caleb. The angel of darkness. The most terrifying angel on Earth.
Angels were clean freaks. They killed with their swords without blood touching their clothes.
But Caleb liked it messy. He preferred to use his hands as a weapon of murder and gorge himself in bloodlust. I knew he enjoyed killing more than his brothers or sisters after seeing the bloodlust in his eyes.
And when he zeroed his cold eyes on me, I shook uncontrollably. I watched his blood-splattered face, my feet frozen in fear. Caleb flicked his tongue out as he continued watching me, licking the blood from his mouth in slow, lazy licks, like a bored cat.
I turned and ran as fast as I could.