The Angel

CHAPTER ONE

TYLER’s POV

The ham sizzled lazily in the pan, the steady hiss filling the silence. It was already past eleven o’clock when I came back to my dorm after a late night run. I find it better for my sleep when I’m exhausted. That way it drowns out all the noise.

Besides, a dreamless sleep is always better.

I took a drag from my unfinished cigarette, stubbing the rest of it into the ashtray, and took the pan off the stove. I grabbed a plate, dropped the perfectly cooked ham in it, and sat down on my usual spot.

I was just about to tear into the bread when I heard a loud thud coming from the bedroom. My eyebrows creased and I looked at the time.

12:00 AM. Exactly midnight.

Spencer wasn’t supposed to be here today. It was just supposed to be me. He went home for an emergency and will be back tomorrow. So, if that’s the case then…

…who is making the noise?

I grabbed the bat that was sitting in between the two bookshelves and adjusted my grip on it, my eyes focused on the wooden door. I gritted my teeth as I reached for the doorknob.

Someone was moving inside. I could hear breathing. Labored breathing. Like an animal growling.

The lock to the door clicked and I kicked it open. It was dark. I felt the wall beside me for the switch and when the lights came on, my eyes widened.

Someone was on the floor. He was naked apart from a thin piece of fabric clinging low at his waist. Broken chains still clung to his wrists and neck. And his long platinum-blond hair was spilled over his shoulders, curling toward the ends, hiding his face from view.

What unsettled me, though, wasn’t his presence or that he appeared to have been tied up and tortured.

It was the pool spreading underneath him—the sheer amount of blood, so much that it seemed to swallow him whole.

They were everywhere. Like a brutal crime scene.

I dropped the bat and immediately knelt beside him, easing him over so I could see him clearly.

The intruder’s face came into view, streaked with blood and dirt, yet somehow the mess didn’t drown out the sharp lines underneath. His features were all angles and symmetry, too damn perfect for someone who’d just been beaten down.

I caught myself staring a second too long, scowling at the thought. Handsome, sure. Not that it mattered. He looked like he’s about to die anyway.

I pressed my fingertips against his neck, trying to feel for a pulse. Nothing.

Yep. I just touched a dead man.

I don’t even know if he goes to this school. I’ve never seen him before. If I have, I’d know. He has a face you won’t forget easily. He looked about the same age as me but I’m not too sure if he belonged here at all.

I was about to stand up to grab my phone from my nightstand when I heard the faintest groan. My eyes immediately flew back to him.

He was moving. It wasn’t easy to spot, but he is.

I pressed my fingertips against his neck again. Still no pulse. This time, I pressed my entire head against his chest.

Nothing was beating.

“That’s no use,” the guy groaned, his voice hoarse, and I sat up. “I don’t have a heart.”

I immediately pulled myself away from him.

What kind of stupid nonsense is this?

He coughed and spluttered as he pushed himself up from off the floor. He was covered in blood but there were no visible wounds on him. Was the blood even his? Is he some sort of a killer or something? And where the hell did he even come from?

“I take it you have questions,” he muttered dryly, his face contorted slightly in pain as he tried standing up.

I stood up, too, my eyes never leaving his. Despite his Greek god features, I was still taller than him. Sure, he has a nicer body, but that can easily be arranged.

“Are you checking me out?” he taunted when he noticed my eyes flicker towards his torso for a split second, his head tilted to the side, and I glowered at him.

“Are you crazy? You’re the one who barged into my dorm room all bloody in the middle of the night. Who even are you?”

“Azriel. An angel,” he answered without the faintest hint of humor.

I just stared at him. “Did you escape from a mental asylum or something?”

“Would it make you feel better if I said yes?”

I raised an eyebrow at his stupid answer. He took a step closer to me and I instinctively grabbed the bat from the floor.

He stood directly underneath the light and laughed, his silvery-gray eyes glinting. “Mortals are so easy to scare,” he said, trying to sound poetic.

I just scoffed at this. “Uh-huh. And what are you, exactly? Dracula’s prettier cousin?”

He looked confused. “Who’s Dracula?”

Now, I’m the one that’s confused. “You don’t know Dracula?”

“Should I?”

“Okay, forget Dracula!” I yelled, my patience wearing thin, and I pointed the bat at him. “Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my room?”

The guy started looking around, his eyes darting on the beds at either corners of the room. “This is your room?” he asked, his accent thick with disdain.

I rolled my eyes at him. “Why don’t you just answer my question, huh?”

“Well, I already answered. The name is Azriel. As for what I’m doing here,” he paused, thinking, “even I do not really have a clue.”

I blinked. “So, what? You just happen to drop in here or something?”

“Precisely. I think I’m meant to be here.”

“Meant to be here?! What kind of—” I ran an agitated hand through my hair and I pointed the bat at him again. “I’m serious! If you don’t tell me what you’re doing here, I’ll swing this bat right at your pretty little head and we’ll see if you’ll survive that.”

“You think I have a pretty head?” He looked flattered.

I just scorned at him. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thank you.”

I ignored his taunting smirk and, with the bat still pointed at him, walked to my nightstand to grab my phone. I dialed 911 and reported him for breaking and entering. Never mind that he tried dying in my room. The pool of blood he left is still on the floor.

I’m gonna have to scrub everything clean tomorrow morning or Spencer will bite my head off.

“Who was that?” he asked.

I plopped down on my bed. “No one.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “I heard you talking to someone. Were you two talking about me?”

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely. Can’t stop thinking about you,” I deadpanned, rolling my eyes at him. He just smiled at me, not even processing that I was being sarcastic.

Geez. He must be really loose in the head, huh?

Ten more minutes passed before someone knocked on my door. With how slow the response rates are around here, I would’ve been dead by now had he been a serial killer.

“Stay here,” I told him and he didn’t respond. He was sitting on the floor, drawing odd shapes on the drying pool of blood with a finger.

I opened the door and the police officers barged in, guns in hand. I led them towards the room where the crazy guy was.

To be honest, I half expected him to escape. Instead, he was still sitting in the same position, looking up at the officers like he’s completely innocent.

“Is there a body here?” one of the officers asked as the others searched underneath beds and chairs.

“I don’t think so,” I answered, watching as they laid him flat on the ground to cuff him.

That was when I had noticed what was on his back. He had two large wounds that ran wide across his shoulder blades. The skin was torn and red, the edges still pink and tender, though no fresh blood seeped out.

“Get the paramedics here!” the man that tackled him down called out. “Sir, where did you get these?”

Azriel looked up at him. “Where did I get what?”

“Your wounds.”

“Oh. That,” he answered dismissively. “Gabriel did that. Cut my wings off and everything.”

Right.

If you looked at his face you’d sometimes forget that he’s a nutcase. He must have schizophrenia or some other thing. If I were him, I’d shut the hell up. That way he’d at least pass off as normal.

“Sir, can we invite you down to the station so you can provide your statement?”

I glanced at the police officer talking to me and then back at Azriel who’s being escorted out. There were already a handful of students at my doorway, trying to take a quick peek.

“Sure,” I just answered. “Though I’m not really sure if he’s a criminal or something. He could just be crazy.”

“Uh, yes. We’ll be sure to have him tested.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

By the time morning rolled over, I was in no mood to join my classes. When I got back after questioning, it was already half past three. The room still looked like someone was slaughtered in there so I chose to fall asleep on the couch.

I sat up, stretched my aching neck, and yawned. And as if on cue, there was another knock.

“Come in!” I yelled.

The door swung open and revealed Percival’s stupid face. I groaned.

Why are lunatics always swarming my place? Is there something in here that they want?

“Oh, don’t look so annoyed,” Percy hissed, his tone dripping with condescension. “I’m not here on my own volition, alright?”

“Oh, yeah?” I shot back. “Should I be applauding your heroic sacrifice, then?”

Percy rolled his eyes. “The headmaster wants you in his office. Now.”

“I just woke up, you know.”

“Yeah. I can tell,” he deadpanned. “You look like a raccoon that lost a fight with its reflection. Just wash up later. He said he wants you in his office as soon as humanly possible.”

“Yeah, no. That’s not gonna work.”

“Excuse me?”

“He said humanly possible? Buddy, I’m barely awake. Try again in about an hour.”

Percival was now red in the face. “The headmaster will not be pleased.”

“Well, newsflash: neither will I.”