16
Amanda jolted awake in her place on the floor of Don’s living room, the shrill sound of the doorbell ringing in her ears. At first, her heart raced at the thought of avenging angels, then at being taken into custody by the police, and finally at the sight of Marc strutting into the room.
It had only been a few days since he cooked for her, but she realized now how much she’d missed him. And she could see that the sight of her fanned fires into his coal black eyes. He caught her as she threw herself around his neck. With his strong arms wrapped tightly around her, some of the stress drained out of her system. She’d never felt so relieved before.
“This is Uriel,” Marc said.
Amanda opened her eyes and looked over Marc’s shoulder. Don stood by the entrance, glaring at a lean man in a white toga and red cape.
Uriel carried himself with mellow confidence, his crimson hair rippling down the sides of his face. Amanda found herself thinking that something was wrong with his face, but his nose was just the right size and pointiness, and his cheekbones rested at the best possible height, and his warm eyes were painted in the most pleasant palette of browns. The only thing wrong with the angel’s face was that it was too symmetrical – too perfect in every single way.
“I’ve come to purge the taint from your soul,” Uriel said, his voice smooth and melodic.
Amanda looked at Marc, her eyes suddenly wide.
“Oh, he’s not going to send you to Purgatory…” Marc said, looking at Uriel intensely. “He’ll just perform an exorcism.”
“An exorcism?” Amanda said. “Marc, we need to talk. Something happened.”
“It’ll be fine. Let’s get this over with.”
“But you said… you said I wasn’t tainted. You said you believed me!”
Amanda looked between the King of Hell and the archangel, suddenly feeling small. She shook her head, squirming out of Marc’s arms.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Uriel said, holding out his hand. “Go on, lie down.”
Marc nodded encouragingly.
“Why should I trust him? What if he just smites me?” Amanda took a few steps back. “All the angels I’ve met so far have been d-bags.”
“That’s why Don’s still here,” Marc said, putting a reassuring hand on her arm.
A sharp skewer of pain bored into Amanda’s brain. She gasped. They’d somehow managed to turn Marc against her too. She glanced over at Don. He just stared disinterestedly at a spot in the ceiling.
“It’ll only take a moment,” Uriel said, taking her hand.
She tried to pull it back, but her arm refused to move. Pins and needles pricked her skin, originating from the angel’s touch. Her head felt like it was about to burst. The room flickered, her eyes suddenly able to see through the veil of reality.
Wings of blistering darkness whirled around the angel of death, his face a shining skull in the moonlight, his stature impossibly tall, warping the very ceiling to accommodate his form. A massive scythe curved along the walls of the room, reflecting the angel in front of her.
Gleaming diamonds highlighted Uriel’s face. His crimson feathers took the color out of the room, spreading out like a wounded sunset. Everything else seemed gray and dead in comparison. His height made her dizzy and nauseous, the texture and dimensions of the room desperately distorting and inflating just to be able to hold him.
Amanda thought she’d seen Marc’s true form on the day when they first met, but the lipless mouth lined with sharp yellow teeth, and the hollow black eyes that now stared maliciously made her whimper. The only one who looked normal was Lucy.
“He’s going to kill you,” she said. “Marc doesn’t see it.”
“I don’t–” Amanda said, struggling against Uriel’s grip on her hand. “No!”
“I’m your only true friend, and he’s trying to take me away from you.”
No match for the archangel, Amanda found herself pinned to the floor. Her head throbbing and aching. Uriel’s fingertips pressed onto her face. He mumbled a few words in a strange language that poured into her ears like molten steel. She screamed.
The pain increased. Black spots appearing all over her eyes. “Help! Marc, please!”
“He’s not going to help you,” Lucy said, tears of blood rolling down her pale cheeks.
Amanda cried out again. Something inside her tore open. Her soul. Gashes and cuts appeared over Lucy’s arms and neck.
“You’re killing her!” Amanda screamed.
Uriel’s hand pushed even harder onto her face. Flowers of pain bloomed inside her. Lucy smiled, blood seeping through her teeth and down her chin. Her eyes rolled back into her head. She collapsed on the floor, her hand reaching out. Their fingertips met, and Lucy put something sharp in Amanda’s hand before going limp.
“Your soul is pure once more,” Uriel said.
With a final cry of rage and pain, Amanda stabbed it into the angel’s neck. Uriel blinked, his soft eyes widening in surprise. A shudder rolled through the room. Golden light beamed out of his eyes and mouth. He reared back, his hands wandering up his neck. He let out a gasp and then disappeared in a flash, leaving only the thorn and few crimson feathers on the floor.
Amanda sat up, tears of relief blurring her vision. The pain in her head was finally gone. Marc just stared at her, his mouth hanging open.
“That’s not good,” Don said, lighting a fresh cigarette.