Angels and Demons - The First Arc

“So, you’re saying that has never happened before,” Briz said.

“I would have known if it had.” Ange stopped. The two had reached the clearing when Claud waved at them from the shadow of a nearby chestnut tree.

“See, Ange, he’s safe.” Claud always insisted the three of them would garner too much attention together, and took a shortcut through the supposedly deserted part of town. That was, the collection of abandoned warehouses where gangs often met. “Stop fretting.”

They unknotted their fingers, burying their hands in the pockets of their jacket. A cold breeze blew through the branches, carrying the cooing of ravens and the stroke of the waves against a lake’s shore all over the park.

In truth, Ange was still shaken from that day’s raid.

“Do you think you could do it again?” Briz asked. Her skin seemed sickly pale in the moonlight, but her round blue eyes burned with anticipation.

“What?”

“The…well should we call it magic?”

“We can definitively call it magic,” Claud interjected.

“Yeah, magic. The whole burning people alive thing, you know?”

Ange could still hear echoes of fizzling skin and crackling bone. That and the screams. The worst of it, however, was: “I think I can.”

Claud crossed his arms thoughtfully, while Briz merely smiled. Ange raised a hand, thought better of it, and sighed, only to realize he hadn’t lowered. They glanced at their friends. The two hadn’t taken a step back yet, despite how their poses betrayed a retreat.

But no, they only did so when the flame sparked in his palm.

“I…” Ange stammered.

“It’s fine,” Claud said, certainly trying to convince himself.

“Can you…” Briz began.

Wait.

“I hear steps.” The flame in their palm died out as they pointed towards the tree. “Quick.”

“You sure?” Briz asked, already climbing. There was a feline precision in her, in the way her body flowed and curved.

“I think I hear them too,” Claud confirmed as he hauled Ange up after him.

In the top of the wide trunk, the tree’s branches spread outwards, forming a circular hollow at the very center. On top, a piece of muddied fabric and a couple of waterproof jackets protected its contents from both the elements and the eventual prying eye.

The three exchanged questioning looks. Though the space was tight, the three managed to squirm inside.

“Patrols?” Briz scratched the shaved side of her head.

“The Governor must either be truly desperate or utterly insane. Yes, he is a tyrant, but even tyrants wouldn’t risk lives like this without a reason.” Claud said. Unlike Ange and Briz, he wasn’t in this for the fun of it. He had ideals, and hoped to see them come true. “Everybody knows angels and demons are attracted to living things. What is he thinking?”

“Do you think it was us?” Ange asked.

“Information travels fast, but this fast? Either way, mobilizing squads takes time. No, there must be something else going on.”

“At least now we know they can’t get to us unless we let them..” Ange didn’t like what Briz was implying. “You know…”

“I’m not killing anyone else today. Or ever, for that matter!”

“Eh, remorse is only good for heroes, and those always end up dead. If I had your powers, I would face an angel itself just to show it who’s in charge.”

This earned an odd look from Claud, visible through the near-darkness. His most intimate dream, the one he barely dared to voice even at the apex of his many speeches, was to rid the world of its supernatural oppressors.

“All that would accomplish is to anger them.” He muttered stiffly. “Even if we were able to defeat one, humanity as a whole would crumble if they sent even a fraction of their forces against us.”

Ange nodded. Claud was right: angels and demons did as they pleased because nobody could stop them. Thankfully, for now human casualties seemed to be, as far as anyone could tell, collateral damage, not their main goal.

“Wait!” Briz exclaimed, shooting to her feet. Ange gestured for her to keep her voice down. Above, a few fallen leaves drifted down the fabric. “Does that mean… you’re one of them!”

“No, I’m not!” Ange shouted themself. They couldn’t be, could they?

“Guys…” Claud pulled the two back to their places. “For now, let’s please accept we don’t know enough to come to rash conclusions and try not to do anything we’ll regret.”

“But…” Briz and Ange started in unison.

“We will, and you know why?”

Briz looked away, while Amge stared at his lap.

“Because this… magic, it won’t save Jane’s patients. She was counting on us: all we had to do today was to collect some medicine and leave. Instead, we’ll come back to her empty handed.”

Ange opened their mouth to speak, clutching a small sack next to them. Nevertheless, Claud was faster.

“Last week’s stuff won’t do them much good.” He shook his head. “It’s food, mostly, only a few cans of it. Maybe there’s some alcohol in there, but…”

“We could sell the knife,” Ange suggested, glad they couldn’t make out Briz’s probably murderous face. She wouldn’t part so easily with her new toy. Not that it was a wise idea to attempt it.

“It would get us too much unwanted attention,” Claud said.

“Then we’ll make do with whatever we have.”

In the distance, bells rang.

Oh, no.

It wasn’t the curfew alarm, but the midnight one, for the change of the guard. In other words, very, very late.

“Guys, I think this is it.” Ange said, raising their arms as a flourish. “Gran’ma will kill me.”

Claud and Briz stifled a laugh. Ange ignored them, and crawled out into the night.