Angels and Demons - The First Arc

Despite the late hours, the corridor wasn’t silent. Apart from the barely perceptible thud of Ange’s footsteps, a few doors rattled, hinges creaking. The buzzing of a refrigerator came from one left ajar. Above him, at regular intervals, electric lamps swayed in the stuffy stillness, a few flies swarming around them before falling to the floor with a burst of static. Somewhere, a faucet dripped.

Room 812. The numbers, etched into the wooden door, had faded with time. Rumor had it that in the underground floors golden plaques were used, and the walls weren’t bare grainy concrete, but painted over, or decorated with flowery wallpaper. Ange, who had little qualms about trespassing, had once concluded that could only be true for the governmental buildings of the city center.

They reached for the handle now. Fumbling with the lock, they muttered a string of curses under their breath.

“Oh, dear,” said a raspy voice from inside. With a click, the door opened to reveal Gran’ma’s round diminutive shape. The bags under her eyes were darker than usual in her deeply lined face. “Wouldn’t you know they’ve changed the systems once again... Now, at night, they only open from inside.”

Ange stepped inside. Their apartment had two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen, plus a small hall that connected the four, in which they stood now.

“Did you have fun with your friends?” She asked, because as far as she knew, Ange’s friends were a couple of kids from the upper floors. They couldn’t believe it.

“You’re not angry?”

“I did my fair share of mischief, when I was your age.” She had the kind of look that made one discard that possibility. On top of her head, her white hair was tied in a messy knot. “And Lord knows the times we live in aren’t kind to you young ones. No, not at all…”

“I…” There was something they needed to ask her, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“There is still bread in the kitchen. Would you like me to make you a toast, Angel? It would take me no time at all.”

“I have already eaten,” they lied.

“I don’t think I believe that. You’re acting all strange today, so, please, do come and sit.”

Ange let themself be guided and sunk onto the chair Gran’ma pulled out from underneath the kitchen table. As she, humming along to a random tune, picked up the toaster and searched for somewhere to plug it, they pulled at a fraying string from their cuff, as if it would undo the knot in their throat.

“Gran’ma?” They called as she set a plate and a bar of butter in front of them. “Do you… did you know my parents? My, uh, the…”

Real ones? Gran’ma was, as far as they’d ever cared, the only one they’d needed. She had raised them since they were a baby, more as a mother than anything else. Her nickname was a kind of private joke between them.

Now, she hesitated. When she spoke, her usually bubbly voice sounded tired. “Did something happen?”

“No, but. I was wondering.”

“I guess it is time for you to know it. You deserve to know the truth, afterall, as difficult as it may be to believe.”

“I think I’d be willing to believe anything right now.”

Gran’ma arched an eyebrow at this. In less than a heartbeat, she sighed, and continued:

“Seventeen years ago, I moved into this very apartment - I think you know that part. Before then, I had managed to stay in a house of my own, imagine, in a place in the outskirts that still comes to me in dreams. Here, I was so, so lonely, and so... angry at the creatures who had killed my family, and forced me to move. Until, one night, a stranger knocked at the door.”

“What did they look like?”

“The funny thing is, I couldn’t tell you. Every time I try to recall their face, all that comes is darkness, like a hole cut in the world, just like that. Now, where was I?... Oh, yes: the stranger had a baby with them.”

“Me.” Ange knew it to be true before Gran’ma confirmed it with a nod.

“At that moment, that was the most precious thing I had ever seen, this child. The stranger let me take it in my arms, and soon enough it had filled some hole there, and brought tears to my eyes.”

Ange looked down at their plate, and bit into a toast. With their hands shaking, they were getting crumbs all over the towel.

“At the end of the day, the stranger said they must leave me and the baby. They said that where they lived was no place for it, but that I was always free to recuse, which I couldn’t. Of course I couldn’t leave the poor thing.”

A long pause followed.

“Is that all?” Ange asked.

Gran’ma shook her head. “The stranger… they warned. It does sound silly, but they warned you would always be… different, and that that would be alright. I assured them that you wouldn’t be any more difficult to love because of that.”

Ange swallowed. “Different how?”

“It doesn’t make much sense, but-”

“Different how, Gran’ma?”

“I…”

“Different like this?” They hadn’t intended to shout, much less to spring to their feet, raising a hand. Their flame coiled around it like a snake.

Gran’ma didn’t even flinch. She came to their side, lips tightened into a thin line, and leaned for a hug. Ange pushed her arms away, not deigning to look at the hurt on her face. She could have warned them. It would have saved lives, and spared the conscience Ange hadn’t known they had only the day before.

“Angel, they said you’d be their heir.” Her voice died out into a whisper. “That the way of darkness, as they called it, would come to you one day.”

“Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“I wanted you to have a normal childhood. I couldn’t burden you with the knowledge that you’re, well, what you are.”

They breathed in, and their fire swelled. “A demon?”

“More than that, if I understood it correctly.” She stroked their shoulder, but they recoiled at the touch. What if they hurt her? “From now on, your powers will grow, and it is up to you whether you choose to use them. I know you are a good kid, because I made you into one myself. There’s so much you can do.”

“I never asked for it!”

They took a step back, then another. Gran’ma held out a hand they would never hold on to. There were tears in her eyes. Perhaps there were tears in theirs, too, if a demon, or whatever-they-were, could even cry.

“Angel, please come here,” she pleaded.

“Leave me alone!”

Ange slammed the door shut behind them. They went into their room, making sure to lock themselves in. No sooner had they sat on their bed than they held their cushion over their chest, sobbing quietly.