My Dark Angel

A Miracle or a Cruel Trick

POV: Gideon 

Another drink was a mistake, but at least it drowns out the pain. I down the whiskey in one gulp and slam the glass down on the counter, reveling in the burn of alcohol on my tongue. 

For a moment the world around me darkens.

I can see Elise. Her details are fuzzy. But it’s her, standing behind the bar with torn denim jeans and a stained hoodie hanging off her thin, almost skeletal frame. Her hands are on her protruding hips, her blonde hair pulled back into a greasy ponytail, and her pretty features are scrunched up in that glare she always used to give me.

I close my eyes tight again and the vision fades.

Fucking hell.

I should never have come to Earth. I’d give anything for a fresh start, to feel like a guardian again and do it right this time. But bastards like me don’t deserve a second chance.

When I open my eyes, I see a newcomer sitting at the bar a few seats down. I know this man, barely. His name is Gabriel. Compared to my muscular frame that would rival a pro wrestler, he’s a lithe and slender angel with a swimmer’s body, with dirty-blond hair and brown eyes. I once had eyes like that, before they turned as black as the Pit’s bowels.

I don’t know him well but seeing his face instantly pisses my inner guardian off. Why? Maybe because he still has his wings and my true self has been condemned to stay inside me forever, never to shift again.

Or maybe it’s because he smells of p***y.

I’m here without a ward, drinking my pathetic mortal existence to an early grave, and this guy’s got it all; wings and a woman.

I listen to Damien chat with him but the words are fuzzy, I can barely make out what they’re saying as they see me leering, and drop their voices low. Whatever it is, he’s upset, bitching about his ward. It’s the only reason guardians ever come here when all isn’t right with their humans. It pisses me off that he’s bitching about his ward to Damien. He should be thankful he has one. When I hear him order a rum and diet coke, it rubs me the wrong way. I am being a drunken jackass, but my misery and self-loathing don’t make me a pleasant man these days.

“Diet?" I scoff. "Wings are wasted on high-browed guardians like you. What’s the matter Gabriel, your little ward get a bruise? Stub her toe? You’ve got some nerve to come here and complain about your ward when you know full well mine is rotting in the ground.”

The angel swivels his attention to me, the heat of his glare hot on my skin. Pft. He’s too smart to pick a fight with me. I could lift him like a bag of feathers and put him through the window. I shoot a glance over my shoulder to the front window that’s been patched with duct tape and cardboard. I can feel Damien’s glower mingled with Gabe’s, drilling into the back of my skull.

If I break his window again, he’ll kick me out for good, and I’ll be reduced to drinking at a human bar. 

“Come on, lay off him,” the bartender warns, tone sharp. “You don’t know what he’s been through tonight. Let the man enjoy his drink.”

I know a little of what the guardian had been through tonight. He’s been inside a woman, that’s for sure, and he didn’t bother washing off afterward. When you walk into a bar full of angel shifters knowing they can smell someone break wind a block away, it’s just rude.

“Seems like he’s doing fine to me, seeing as he smells of cunt and all. Tell us, what’d you stick your c**k in that’s driven you to the drink?” I tut, giving him a mocking grin. “Don’t tell me it was your ward? You know you can lose your wings that way?”

Gabriel is looking at me with a scalding gleam behind his eyes, like a spark that might jump to life and consume me like a raging fire. Beyond his thinly veiled rage, there’s the unmistakable face of guilt.

Hmm, I think I guessed right. He is slipping it to his human. That’s a big no-no. If he’s caught having carnal relations with a human, he could be sitting in the same spot as me.

“That’s none of your f*****g business,” he says with a steely air.

“Hmph. You’ve grown teeth since I last saw you. Why so defensive? You’ve got a look that stinks of guilt, I can smell it from here.”

The furious look on his beet-red face all but confirms my theory.

“Are you looking for a fight, Gideon? Trying to feel something? All the alcohol in the world and my fist crushing your skull to wash it all down isn’t going to bring Elise back. So, how ‘bout you f**k off?”

His words cut deep, and I’m reminded that I am being a drunken fool. A shameful asshole. I look down at my drink, staring at the reflection of the fallen angel in the last remaining trances of dark liquid. Even my own reflection pisses me off. I’m a handsome bastard, at least to the people who like the strong-jawed, built like a wall. But my eyes are sunken in with dark shadows that seem to seep into other parts of me, staining me with darkness I’vewallowed in for much too long.

When I finally look up from my drink, I realize only half an hour has passed. It’s getting late and Gabriel and the other bar patrons clear out, leaving Damien to clean up.

“Get out of here, will you? I don’t want to see you tomorrow.” His tone is soft, understanding. He thinks he knows what I’m going through but he doesn’t. I nod, grumble a thanks, and get up from my stool. I fumble with my wallet and slap a few bills down on the bar without paying attention to what they are. I really need to watch my budget now that my stipend from Paradise has been cut in half. By Damien’s shouts of protest, I’d left too much of a tip, but I ignore him as I stumble out of the bar in a drunken stupor.

Everything is spinning. I had more to drink than I thought. Shoving the front door open, the cool Seattle air hits me like a slap to the face. I mull Damien’s words from earlier over in my head.

You need to find your purpose, something better. If only the world could be so kind.

Just as I step out onto the curb, my muscular frame collides with someone small and soft. The tiny body elicits a string of curses and I find myself reeling back, afraid that I’ve hurt whatever unfortunate soul who crossed my path.

“Ow! s**t, watch where you’re going—” The woman whose head barely reaches my shoulder cranes her neck to look up at me, wearing an annoyed scowl. As my gaze locks with hers, my entire body goes numb and my knees go weak underneath me.

No.

 It’s impossible. 

I’ve been drinking, sure. But am I so inebriated that I’m hallucinating the face of my deceased ward, standing in front of me wearing that signature glare of hers? I’ve imagined her before, but this is different. The woman before me is solid, more filled out, and healthier-looking than the time I last saw her, but there’s no mistaking her for a cruel trick of my mind.

By some miracle or a cruel trick of the heavens, It’s really her.

Elise