Porcelain shattered over tile.
Grey sighed and knelt down to collect the shards large enough to grab with her hands. The customer that had been watching from a table over blinked incredulously. Like breaking a cup was the absolute worst thing that could ever happen on this earth. His aged eyes judged her from his seat, and when she grew sick of the disdain leaking from his expression, she stopped cleaning up the mess and offered him a lifeless smile.
"Enjoying your meal?"
The older man grumbled and nodded, turning back to his newspaper.
"Grey."
Grey peered over her shoulder to find Julia sticking her head through the double doors that led to the kitchen.
"Kitchen. Now."
Looks like she'd have to sweep this up later. On her way to the serving area, she tossed the sharp pieces into a trash can and sauntered into the kitchen. Instantly, she was hit with the smell of dish soap and cooked eggs. Two chefs wiped down stainless steel countertops, pretending not to eavesdrop. Grey leaned her back onto a pantry.
"Take the cup out of my check."
Julia smiled sarcastically. "That's already been done, klutz."
"Then what do you want?"
Her coworker scoffed, her nub of a ponytail wagging as her neck moved while she spoke. "What's your deal? You aren't guaranteed to get your job back. I'd watch the way you speak to me as your supervisor."
Grey rolled her eyes. "You called me in here for a power trip?"
"I called you in here because you've been screwing up all day. You miscounted change this morning, zoned out while taking orders, spilled drinks--,"
"It was a single cup of water."
"Which further proves your incompetence if you can't get a glass of H2O to a customer." Julia raised both eyebrows, waiting for Grey's comeback. It never came. "Breaking a mug is the cherry on top. Four strikes in a matter of hours."
Grey shoved her hands into her pockets. "Look, I haven't been myself recently, okay?"
"Since when have you ever not been perfect?"
Now that had nothing to do with breaking a damn coffee cup. "Perfect? Seriously?"
Julia shrugged, scooting closer to the sink so that she could finish washing the chocolate mousse from a plate. Her gloves fit loosely, but they squeaked as she dragged a sponge in circles across the stain. In seconds, it was ready to dry.
Grey snatched the towel from its perch near the handles of the faucet. "Perfect?"
Julia clenched her jaw, staring at the ceiling like she was already using the reserves of her patience. At last, she confronted Grey.
"On second thought, you can't be too perfect. You're back here in a blue apron next to me."
Julia reached for the towel, Grey yanked it behind her back just out of reach.
"Not all of us can hop social classes. Not all of us seduce rich merchants into feeding us chocolate cake in ballrooms because we get the easy way out. In case you thought I didn't see that, I did." Julia's voice was flat, matter-of-fact. Grey's jaw hit the floor. Her coworker continued, "Some of us have to work for what we have, and when we don't work well at what we do then guess what? We get fired."
Grey laughed, not feeling an ounce of amusement. "Fire me."
Julia shook her head. "Not yet. Regardless of what I think, you're good at this job. At least you were. Mess up one more time and you're done."
The banging of pots and pans filled the ensuing emptiness between Grey and Julia. After a while, Grey nodded once and tossed the towel onto a nearby cutting board. She strode from the kitchen, sliding into a table near the display case and gluing her attention to the new flat-screen television in the upper corner of the cafe.
Her? Perfect? She was a ticking time bomb a few seconds from unraveling.
The bell on the door jingled as four customers filed into The Parlour and took a seat at a booth near the back. By the way Grey's foot tapped against the ground, she knew they would have to wait. She couldn't stop moving and her first impulse if she stood would be to head back into the kitchen and shove this apron down Julia's throat.
She narrowed her focus on the news broadcast showing instead. An anchorwoman in a crisp suit stood before a green screen, pointing a manicured finger at a series of different weather forecasts. All of them were cloudy after today, sometimes showing signs of wind and dropping temperatures around sunset. Another anchor flashed on screen, his hands crossed neatly across the desk.
"Thank you for the weather report. After this break, we'll return to you with news about our home-based Fortune 500 companies that met at a summit this weekend, including a special interview with our very own business tycoon, Kim Seokjin."
Pictures of a smiling and waving Jin clad in a crisp, black pinstripe suit traveled across the screen in a montage. Next came a video of him speaking into a microphone, plump lips moving rapidly to explain company growth. The woman interviewing him nodded eagerly at his feedback, pressing the microphone--and her face--further into his with each question.
Grey heard none of his responses because she had already thrown off her apron and dashed through the front door.
:::
Luca woke up from her nap as soon as Grey's keys jingled in the lock. The girl heaved upon entering, throwing her purse onto the couch, "I have to stop and get some more cat food, but I ordered take-out on my way home. You can have some of that."
"That will not help me lose weight. Rough day?"
"Stop saying that. You don't need to lose weight." Grey took the ponytail holder out of her hair. Her curls fell down her back. "And yes, I shouldn't have went back to work."
Luca said, "I warned you, but you insisted since you refuse to spend the money provided in your bank account. It is more than enough to give you a comfortable life."
"That is their money, not mine." Grey unbuttoned her shirt swapping the blouse for a simple tee shirt from her coffee table. She began to unbutton her pants when Luca cleared her throat.
Grey raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Give me time to walk away before you flash your human parts at me."
Human parts? Nice one. Her hands moved away from her waistline and settled on her hips. "Fine. Any progress on home? Loopholes? Secret clauses you missed in the angel rule book about opening dimensions?"
"None that you would consider convenient."
"I figured. I'll join the search soon since a day job is out of the question." Grey moved behind the couch to take off her pants. Luca obediently faced forward, tail swaying with satisfaction, Grey supposed, at not having to face bare human legs. "By the way, how long has the curse been around? If it's keeping me here, it would help to know how old our opponent is."
"The First Fall occurred a little over five hundred years ago. Upon the first angel hitting the ground as punishment, the curse formulated. On the contrary, opening a portal is mutually exclusive, but the seams in between realms are locked shut as far as I can tell."
The girl tiptoed to her room and slipped on leggings. While fighting to shimmy them above her hips, she raised her voice so that Luca would hear. "You said you haven't found anything convenient. What about something swift?"
She sauntered back into the living room, blanket in hand. Luca raised an eyebrow.
"Swift solutions to curses and their sealing properties are ill-advised. Reckless, even. Easy passage comes with strict costs."
The kitten leapt out of the way before Grey tumbled onto the couch. She began fluffing the decorative pillows, testing them with the back of her head. She snuggled into her cot. "Reckless because they're fast, right?"
"Reckless because such a solution requires an immense amount of power that cannot be fathomed. If the Fallen had the power to open worlds, they would have trespassed back into the Eternal Realm."
Grey nodded, weighing her new hypothesis. Anaphiel would not exist here if they had a way back and they were royalty--princes of their own divine right. If anyone had rite of passage it should have been them. Unless... there was something bolder. Stronger. Not tapped into quite yet. There could only be one power source larger than a prince.
A Queen of angels.
Grey recalled Variel's exact words in reference to her strength. "An immense amount of power is equivalent to power beyond comprehension, yes?"
"Correct, but such a source no longer exists or is not at our beck and call."
A fragment of it did exist. One third of it. And Grey bet it could rip a hole in the lake that brought her here.
"Tired already?" Luca licked her snout.
"I dealt with a lot today and a nap will help me forget about it." Grey smiled kindly, reaching over her pile of blanket and pillows to pat the kitten's head. "You're so helpful. The take-out will be here soon. Don't worry."
Luca's ears perked up and involuntarily, she purred. A paw swatted Grey's hand away when it seemed like the kitten enjoyed the contact a bit too much. "I know where I will go to get dinner. Enjoy your sleep. I will return at nightfall."
"My dinner is not good enough?" Grey closed her eyes with a smile.
Luca switched her hips as she walked. "If you will not give me star flakes, I know people that will."
:::
Grey's breath resembled shards of glass slicing at her lungs as she sprinted through the gardenias. Open land stretched for miles to her sides and at her back, an endless, ceaseless picture of serenity. Except, the sky was not pallid. It bled with color, a swirl of orange and red as though the sun was setting. As though it marked the end of days. And in front of her, far away, lied a mountain of rubble.
She winced stepping over dry thorns and needles, sometimes not quickly enough to escape their pointed ends from piercing her skin. Her knees ached the longer she jogged across solid and cracked dirt. A barren wasteland replaced the meadow. As of now, she rushed through a courtyard drained of life.
In close range, the ruins were the remains of a grand palace. A cracked, marble staircase led to the foundation of crumbled, enormous walls. Pillars without ceilings provided shade even if they were hollow, chipped shells of what they once were. Glass, metallic rails, broken window frames jutted from the pile of smoke and rocks like broken toothpicks. Shattered fountains overcome with the skeletons of dead plants decorated patches of brown grass.
Grey gathered her nightgown in both hands and bound up the steps, halting at a pair of colossal doors coated in a thick layer of ash. One of them hung nearly off its hinges. Under the dust and dented panels, illustrations of winged men and women forged from nothing other than gold closed their eyes and bowed their heads. In their hands were swords.
"Variel!"
Her voice echoed over the destruction.
"Variel! Where are you?"
She cupped her hands around her mouth and tried again. Silence answered.
Grey caught her breath, pausing when she found a skinny space in the entrance. The dark hole formed a sort of triangle large enough for a small child to wriggle through. To squeeze into it, Grey bent at the waist and crept inside.
The next room was drenched in sunset, soaked with tints of lavender, crimson, yellow, and orange. The hues burned through skylights of a domed ceiling onto a destroyed mural floor. In the center of that art, Variel rested with her head tilted towards the rays.
The beautiful ghost breathed in deep then smiled with her eyes closed. "You sought me out."
"We need to talk."
"Share what is on your mind."
Grey opened her mouth to speak, but not a sound escaped her lips. There were so many questions and not enough places to start. Steeling her nerves, she balled her fists at her sides and willed herself to speak, letting whatever came to her heart filter into the air.
"You aren't dead and yet you don't have a body. Why is that?"
Variel opened her amber eyes and stared at Grey. "I do have a body. It is not under my control. It was taken from me and so was a fraction of my powers."
"Taken by whom?" Grey shifted uneasily.
"Your realm's greatest evil. The creator of The Merciless. The maker of the irkans. His proper name is Solis."
Grey's legs buckled. She sat down on the floor. "He created the irkans?"
"Irkans are his followers. Manifestations of darkness from the souls he corrupted in the Eternal realm during his infiltration."
"That makes him a demon."
"He is one of the original demons. Comparably the worst of them all."
"And he has your body?" Grey's face fell into her hands. "You're asking me to retrieve a body from Solis?"
"Solis does not occupy it, but has given it to his general, Aelith. She holds a piece of me and bars me from taking the reins."
That was better, Grey thought sarcastically. The second most evil being ever created had it instead. The human girl blinked, tired already of putting the pieces together.
"Variel, do you understand what you're asking? In case you forgot, I'm human. One pinch from a sewing needle and I'm bleeding. I'm powerless against demons like that."
The ghost narrowed her gaze. "What I request is a burden, but you are equipped with the right weapons. Seven of them. The Council of Judgment."
Grey furrowed her brows. "I can't communicate with them. I struck a deal that requires absolute loyalty."
"You put your trust in the hands of a demon that knows no honor."
"That's not the point here. I came because I need to know if you can do something for me."
Variel raised an eyebrow.
Grey swallowed. "I believe you when you say that your power is amazing. There's no way to know for sure, and I don't know what to call your talents specifically, but I trust in your words."
"I am an angel of mind. My eldest brother was an angel of the body. My youngest brother is an angel of the spirit. Together, we are a trifecta. Alone, we are conquerors of our charges."
An angel of the mind. Explained why Variel relaxed up here while Grey did all the hard work. This was likely where the ghost felt the most comfortable. It was also likely the reason why she could drift as a translucent being and not suffer by the loss of a human body.
"Are you stronger than the others? Than the Council?"
"I have survived in this drifting form for nearly five centuries. Without a body, the darkening process involving the Fallen has no hold over me. My blood remains pure."
Involuntarily, Grey's voice dropped to a whisper. "You came to Earth around the same time as the First Fall?"
Variel looked away, face darkening. "The First Fall was mine."
Grey's lips parted in disbelief. Variel's expression grew stern as she said, "It is not subject to your scrutiny. If you have a favor you wish to ask of me, do it now."
"I'm sorry. What I need is a way home. A portal, I guess. If you outrank Anaphiel then not only are you a Queen, you're a weapon up my sleeve."
Variel's laugh was beautiful, a cacophony of instruments and joy and light. "Who am I to satisfy the whims of a human? Who am I to serve human interests?"
"This human is your host and has the choice of saving your corpse from the so-called embodiment of Death. Technically, Death's right-hand woman. If I stick my neck out for you and receive nothing in return, that isn't fair."
"Fair? With my freedom, you win a war. Your desire to return home is strictly based in selfish ambition. It is a want, not a need."
"With all due respect, Your Majesty, so is your human body."
Variel's head snapped upward towards the skylights, eyes scanning the glass like a deer waiting for rustling in nearby grass. Seconds later, the ghost floated closer to where Grey sat, the peeved grimace gone from her gorgeous features.
"You will be awakened soon. Be vigilant."
Despite the confusion rising in the back of Grey's mind, she pushed herself from the ground and wiped the dust from her hands. "Variel, I need your help like you need mine. You said it before. Don't lose sight of the endgame."
"I grow weary of this rhetoric. My allegiance is yours if I am freed. Only then will I assist you in your journey home."
"Thank you!" Grey reached for Variel's hand--and passed through mist. Like it never happened, Grey went on."Thank you. If I did take your quest, give me a clue pointing me in the right direction. Please, Variel. Anything that can help."
Variel tucked a stray piece of hair behind Grey's ear with a small smile. The girl did not flinch, but became oddly settled amidst her bewilderment. At the same time, Grey became conscious of turning over on the couch. She was leaving the dream, and leaving it fast. Variel noticed too, because she spoke in a rushed whisper.
"I will give you two. First, I am still tethered to that body by the fragment of my power that remains there. When the time is right, I'll push against Aelith and I'll appeal only to you. You'll know then to strike. By your hand, and your hand alone, the body must be slain."
"Slain?" Grey craned her neck back in reproach. "I can't do that!"
"You must. Here is your final clue."
The ruins were fading away, Variel was fading away. Her translucent figure shimmered dimly like a rippling reflection.
"My name in my pure form is Variel. The name you know me by is Vanity."
Grey bolted upright, nails burrowing into the edges of the blanket. Sweat plastered her shirt to her skin, stuck hair to her face, dripped from her chin onto her leggings. She ripped the throw from her legs and thrust herself from the couch. Cool air enveloped her damp frame, but she could not breathe.
She gripped the wall for balance, embracing the frozen wallpaper against her blistering skin. Her apartment shrank in size. All four walls pressed against her on all sides. Grey stumbled for the kitchen as her stomach lurched. When her hands wrapped around the rim, she spit in the sink, unable to stop salivating.
She understood Variel's request as clearly as one understood their own name.
Solis was evil incarnate. Aelith was his general.
Aelith possessed Variel's body and traveled under an alias: Vanity.
To free Variel, to return the angel to her rightful place, Grey had to...
She had to kill Vanity.
Kill the reigning commander of a nightstalker army and the holder of Grey's spoken contract for protection.
Unknowingly, Grey had aligned herself with the dark side--The Merciless. She put her faith and trust on a silver platter and let them feast on it.
Like a naive, cowardly, stupid mouse.
Variel's words played endlessly in her head.
You put your trust in the hands of a demon that knows no honor.
A hard knock almost made Grey jump out of her skin. She fanned herself with her damp tee shirt and bound for the door. Uselessly, she smoothed her hair down and wiped her forehead. Her own stench caused her to frown up.
Perhaps it was her paranoia or what she'd just learned that made her call to the other side first.
Without looking through the peephole, she shouted. "Who is it?"
A heavier knock shook the door. Grey jumped back.
"I said who is it?"
A gruff, low voice rumbled through the walls. "Take-out."
She squinted at the peephole. In the hallway was a man in a baseball cap which concealed the upper half of his face. He wore a gray sweatshirt and a denim vest with matching blue jeans. In his hands was a paper bag shrouded in plastic. The guy couldn't be any older than her.
Sighing, Grey snatched her wallet from her purse. There was just enough cash in it for her to give him a good tip. As she opened the door, she smiled.
"That smells wonderful, thank you."
His baseball cap raised slightly because he raised his chin to stare. She dug up just enough change to hand over when he said, "Vanity sends her condolences."
Grey's breath caught in her throat. Slowly, she measured the man at her doorstep from his feet, up his lengthy body, to his sallow face. When she met his eyes, they were onyx. Not a pupil or an iris, but a pair of black holes that unblinkingly roamed Grey without touching her.
He dropped the food, his large hands shoving her back into her apartment as he stepped over the threshold. She stumbled backwards, panic flaming up her nerves. It was impossible to catch her footing. Her socks slipped against the hardwood floors. To end her misery, the man's palm connected with her cheek in a slap so forceful that her head and her body crumbled to the ground.
Tears pooled in her eyes as she shrieked and clutched the side of her face. He tossed his snapback to the side and peeled off his jacket. While he worked, Grey pushed herself onto all fours and lunged for the bedroom.
He grunted and grabbed a fistful of her hair, slamming her head into the nearest wall. Grey saw stars as she sank down a second time and landed on her back. The ceiling spun, and so did the thing standing above her.
Two rounded horns protruded from his forehead, and he appeared so much longer in his now ripped clothes; taller and stronger. His skin was not the color of parchment, but the color of ash and his black eyes stuck out against the dark gray like wells of ink. His nails had grown to sizable claws, and spikes erupted from the back of his arms like badges of war.
Grey blinked to keep her eyes from rolling back into her head. Still, she was dizzy and the fluid inside of her skull compressed her brain. His combat boot stomped her stomach. Her body folded around his leg, bile rising in her throat. She turned over and retched. He watched her empty her insides with an otherworldly blankness. A curiosity that knew neither remorse nor pity.
"You are weak," he mumbled.
Grey's voice was hoarse and it sent her head reeling. "Stop."
His response was a kick to the ribs. She curled into a ball, lungs deflating although she gasped for air.
"Please," she wheezed.
Two hands bundled her tee shirt into fists and lifted until her back was against the wall.
His breath reeked of decaying flesh. "My master wants you dead."
His fist connected with her jaw. Her teeth sang from the impact, sharp pain bursting through her bottom lip as she bit down. Her head lolled to the side. She tasted blood, swallowed it when it filled her mouth entirely. It was getting harder to keep her eyes open.
She grasped nothing but pain; agonizing aches around her body that pulsed each time her heart beat. Her breathing grew shallow--then cut off completely when the same hand that punched her wrapped grisly fingers around her neck and pinched.
Grey kicked her feet as he lifted her effortlessly. She struggled for breath, for consciousness. The corners of her vision faded to black. He had her and that easily he reduced her to a squirming meal.
All she saw was the monstrous face of betrayal. The demon watched her light flicker, watched her fade away. Her eyelids drooped, an insufferable sleep dragging her under.
She didn't realize his hands slipped from their hold until her tailbone met hardwood. Blood, black and acidic showered over her.
Demon blood.
Her attacker crashed onto the floor, two gaping holes decorating his chest. One opened his chest while the other opened his abdomen. Those lifeless black orbs no longer sparkled. Twin blades dripping with dark liquid swam into her line of sight. So did two legs in ripped, black jeans.
"Grey," the familiar voice said.
She groaned.
"Grey," he repeated. "Stay with me."
But she couldn't. The pain swallowed her whole. She did her best to cling to his presence even after he hoisted her into his arms.
"Yoongi," she croaked.
"Stay with me."
And she wanted to, but the darkness stole her away.
:::
(A/N) Cherished reader,
HAHA.
Okay, now that I got my good laugh in...
Next release: 7/22 or 7/23 (July 22nd or July 23rd)
It seems like quite a while, but I chose to work camp again from Thursday to Sunday evening. If I can squeeze in time to write a chapter during my meals and after lights out, then I'll try to update ASAP. If I can't manage, then I'll update on Monday!
With love,
M