Chapter 22: Guardian Angel

Red hot rage battled against the fear throughout my body. My shaking hands clenched until my nails drew blood upon my palms, and my jaw clenched tight enough to make my teeth creak. I was drained, my essence spent, but I wasn’t terrified for myself. She’d changed me, I realized. Something I thought impossible after a millennium alone.

“Put her down,” I commanded, but I knew I didn’t have a leg to stand on. He’d outmaneuvered me.

“Please,” Michael chastised, as if speaking to a child, “I didn’t break through the barriers into your domain just for a picnic. Asmo, surely you know why I’ve taken her?” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think the gesture looked caring. Instead, it just made my rage grow hotter, warring against both him and my current weakness. I couldn’t lose her.

“I’ll kill you if you hurt her.”

“You? Against me? Weak as you are?” Michael smiled and shook his head side to side once. “I don’t think so.”

Michael summoned his wings, the right one shining gold with metallic feathers so bright that I flinched away. The left one was a murky black, almost formless, without feathers at all.

“You’re no match for an archangel,” Michael declared. “Even if you were fully rested.”

He didn’t just want to kill Zophie and be done with it, I realized. He wanted to drag this out, teach me a lesson. He wanted to break me down so far that I never made the mistake of loving a mortal again. Even now, he tried, in his own twisted way, to act like some kind of mentor. That’s why he wouldn’t kill me, I realized. And maybe it gave me a chance to save her.

“You’re barely half an archangel.” I pointed my finger at his corrupted side.

In response, his nostrils flared, but he managed to cool his expression quickly.

“You might have caught me while I’m weakest, but with heaven pulling away from Earth, your power wanes every century.” I just needed to keep him talking. At the same time, I slowly crept the tiniest stretch of shadow closer to him from behind.

That made his eye twitch. We’d never addressed it directly before, but the longer he went without being able to get to heaven, the more he’d be corrupted. The process twisted him, turning him from a warrior who fought for righteousness into a ruthless, power-hungry demon, slowly but surely.

“I’ll forgive you for that,” he said magnanimously. “Since we’re going to be stuck with each other for a long time after this.”

At that moment, Zophie’s eyes fluttered open, but it looked like a supreme effort on her part. “A-Asmo?” Her voice came out quiet and hoarse, her eyes still not opening all the way. She seemed drugged.

“What did you do to her?” I heard the concern in my own voice, even through my growling tone.

Michael shrugged. “Something to keep her docile; it doesn’t matter.” Then he looked down at her opening eyes with distaste, his hand moving to right over where her heart was. “She’ll only get in your way.”

My heart leaped up to my throat with fear. I had one chance to save her, I realized, and I needed to act immediately.

Many things happened at once. The thin, spindly shadow I’d managed to get behind Michael shot toward his back, aiming for his heart. Michael rapidly turned around, eyes flashing with surprise. He threw Zophie into the air directly above himself. Before she even began to fall, he lashed out at my extended shadow, the very last drops of my strength, and shattered it with a glowing knifehand.

Zophie’s limp body had just begun to fall, and I started to run forward. Before I even made it three steps, Michael lashed out again, his arm punching right through Zophie’s chest. Blood exploded out of her, her body ragdolling from the force, and a wet, wheezing sound coming from her mouth. Michael’s hand protruded from her chest, his outstretched arm holding her dangling body up. In his hand, he held Zophie’s heart.

I watched it beat once, twice, then stop. Michael flicked her corpse off his arm like a particularly disgusting piece of trash. She hit the ground with a wet flop. He crushed the remains of her heart, then wiped at his hands with distaste.

I couldn’t accept what my eyes were telling me. Taking the last few steps to reach her, I dropped to my knees right next to her. Her face, despite being so pale, still seemed so beautiful to me. Gently, so gently, I lifted her head until she rested in my lap. My chest heaved, but I pushed it down. I closed her eyes.

I stared at her, not caring about the blood or anything else. It just didn’t make sense. How could she be dead? It didn’t seem real— like if I just shook it off, this reality would fade away.

“She’s dead, Asmo,” Michael said carelessly. “No different than any other mortal. It was pointless to be attached to her in the first place.”

Ignoring his words, I bent over until her forehead touched mine. She still felt warm. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. Wetness dripped onto my hands, and only after that did I realize tears streamed down my face.

Her hand, resting at her side, twitched. Then, to my amazement, her arm moved until her hand met mine atop her stomach. “It’s okay,” she rasped out, blood spitting from her mouth in a wet cough.

Then her eyes opened, and her blue eyes had turned bright gold. For the second time, I didn’t know what I was looking at. Her chest heaved, and she took in a breath despite the hole in her chest. Her entire body soon followed her eyes, glowing so bright I couldn’t see her any longer; I had to force my eyes shut.

When the brightness faded, I opened my eyes to see Zophie hovering slightly off the ground, large, pure white wings erupted from her back. She flapped them once, experimentally, just observing them for a moment. The hole in her chest hadn’t gone away, I noticed. It just didn’t matter.

For the first time since I fell, I felt awe in my chest looking upon her. That feeling only grew as a golden halo began to form just above her head, the ring growing to encircle itself.

She looked at me with a smile, full of warmth, grace, and love. That wasn’t just a guess on my part, either. She made those sensations physical, blasting me with them to the point I felt the aches from my wounds disappearing. She was… overwhelming in her light.

Once I felt whole, she turned away from me, now facing Michael. That drew my attention to him, too. He, much like me, simply stared up at her, enraptured by grace.

Her face became one of sadness, staring at Michael. She looked disappointed in him, mournful, even. “I, Archangel Zophiel, cast judgment upon you, Michael.” Then she held her hand out to him, palm outward.

A beam of light cast itself from her hand, striking Michael directly in the chest. The dark half of his wings burned away, and he screamed. Then, like paint chipping, the golden, metallic feathers upon his wings fell to the ground one by one, each time clinking as they hit the concrete. Soon, his golden wing had been fully burned away, too.

Now it was Michael’s turn to fall to his knees, one hand clutching at his chest as he gasped for breath.

“Live as a mortal for the rest of your days.”

Michael collapsed. Still alive, I noticed, just unconscious. I couldn’t bring myself to care.

Zophie floated back down until her bare feet touched the ground. I rose up to meet her. She crashed into me with a fierce hug, squeezing me like it was the last time.

She felt soft in my arms. Small and fragile, despite what I’d just witnessed. That thought only became stronger when she tilted her chin up to look at me, tears in her eyes. She hugged me tighter then, pressing the side of her face into my chest and just sobbing. Light shed from her, enveloping me in bliss. I held her back tightly, shocked by her transformation, but also so relieved and grateful that I could hardly think of anything else.

I took in a deep breath as I held her, silently hitching on the way in. “Is heaven… back?” I asked.

Despite her face being lodged against my chest, I could see the corner of her lips curling upward. Her breath hiccupped, and she laughed through her tears. “I think so.” Her beautifully golden eyes met mine, an eternal promise shining from them.

She pulled away, and I let her. With the biggest smile I’d ever seen from her, she nodded toward me, saying, “Asmo, look at your wings.”

They were dark as ever, but down at the bottom, near the base, I watched as the feathers turned light gray, then white. The process continued, moving up my wings as I watched, stupefied.

“You did this?”

She shook her head, grinning. “You did it yourself.” She held her hand out to me, and I took it without hesitation. “It’s time to go.”

“Where are we going?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” she said, as if clueing me in on some great secret. “We’re going wherever a pair of guardian angels might be needed.”