The sky was darkening and the whiteness of the moon was starting to shine through the once bright blue sky. It was almost unnoticeable, but if you focused, you could watch as tiny snowflakes floated down to earth, landing on the concrete sidewalk and melting instantly. As dusk dawned on the city of New York, the lights of cars, street lamps, and traffic lights started to shine sharply through the evening, creating a mix of flashing coloured lights. The most beautiful, however, were the Christmas lights which were laced through the branches of every tree along the sidewalk. Blue, green, white, and red flashed and shone so brightly that nearly everywhere was well lit. Jackal always thought that winter was the most interesting season of them all.
The young sixteen year old walked down the street, groceries in hand, staring at the city around him. Everyone was dressed for winter in wooly hats, furry coats, and patterned scarves. He himself wore a black coat and black jeans, nothing festive, but certainly good enough to get him through New York's bitter winter.
As he walked by a closed shop, he stared at his reflection on the dark glass wall. The clear blue eyes that stared back at him were tired, reflecting his lack of sleep these days. The light brown hair he had inherited from his mom was starting to get too long for comfort and too messy for him not to care. He wouldn't want to admit it, but ever since leaving foster care, he hadn't been too good at taking care of himself.
Jackal turned the corner at Eastwood road and stopped in front of the building he lived in. It was an old, uninteresting piece of work which held four different living quarters inside. Currently, the only people living there was him and the landlady, who lost the apartment to Alice in their poker game. Unlike Alice, she was an old hag with nothing to do except scold everyone she could get to listen about how modern technology is complicated and corrupt. Her only companion was her old poodle, Princess, who did nothing but bark at trees, and her dead husband who she kept in an urn on her doorstep.
Jackal pulled out his keys from his coat pocket and unlocked the front gate, opening the creaky old thing and locking it behind him. Stone steps led to the front door of his apartment, which was located on the bottom floor, but the door was stuck and had been stuck since this morning due to the cold frost of the winter day. For the night, the only way in was through the back.
Jackal walked over to the side of the house and made his way through the crunchy rocks that paved the way underneath him. As he emerged into the backyard, he felt the wall of the building for the familiar switch for the porch light. When he found it, he turned on the light and after a few flickers, the porch light flashed on and hummed with electricity.
Jackal started walking to the back door but suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. Just ten feet in front of him was a girl, around the age of thirteen, nearly dead. She was sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall, bruised and bloodied. Blood coated her blond hair and soaked through her light grey t shirt and blue jeans. Cuts and gashes covered her arms and legs, which were still dripping with fresh blood, staining the ground around her. None of this bothered Jackal as much as what was on her head. A device that looked like a metal headband was clasped around her head, holding in place metal rods which had been drilled into her skull.
Noticing the light turning on, the broken girl turned to Jackal's direction, her eyes pleading and desperate.
"Jackal." She said quietly, her voice raspy and weak.
Recovering from the initial shock of the situation, Jackal dropped the groceries he was carrying and rushed to the girl. Up close, he could see her wounds more clearly and his stomach lurched at the sight of her. The gashes across her arms and legs were clean and deep, meaning they had been made on purpose. The girl was cradling her left arm in her right hand, which had probably been dislocated or sprained, and there was a stab wound in the girl's calf, which was gushing blood at an alarming rate.
"I'll call an ambulance." Jackal said quickly, his heart racing and his voice trembling with shock and adrenaline.
He was about to reach into his pocket for his phone when the girl let go of her left arm and grabbed his hand, shaking her head.
"You can't take me to the hospital." She interrupted, her voice firm.
Jackal stared blankly at her.
"You're going to die if I don't." He argued.
The girl let go of his hand and opened her right hand. On her palm, there was a series of cuts. At first, Jackal thought it was the same as the rest of her body, but when he looked closer, he realized that it was writing. A sigil.
Suddenly, Jackal's entire body tensed up and he stared at the girl in front of him as if she were an alien.
"You're part of it." He accused, furrowing his brow. "What are you? Nephilim?"
The girl shook her head.
"I'm an angel." She replied.
Jackal blinked and opened his mouth, but no words came out.
"This is a Guardian sigil." She explained, painfully closing her hand. "It lets me appear near the Guarded, the ones angels are sent to protect."
She stared intently at Jackal.
"Me?" Jackal asked incredulously. "I need protecting?"
The girl nodded.
"I'll explain later." She said, her voice soft and raspy. "I need your help or I'll die soon."
With her right hand, she gestured to the device on her head.
"The metal rods they drilled into my head prevent me from healing myself." She explained. "Could you take them out?"
Jackal nodded and started to unscrew the metal rods as the girl winced from the pain.
"What's your name?" Jackal asked.
"Celeste." She replied.
"No last name?"
Celeste frowned.
"Why would I have two names?" She asked sincerely.
Jackal looked at Celeste and let out a small laugh when he realized she was serious.
"Never mind." He muttered.
"How do you know my name?" Jackal asked her, trying to keep her attention off the fact that he was pulling out small metal knives from her head.
"We are taught about the people we are sent to protect." She explained. "I know all about you."
Jackal stifled another laugh.
"You're protecting me?" He asked sarcastically.
"Yes." Celeste answered seriously. "Why do you look confused?"
Jackal shook his head.
"Nothing. Just hard to believe." He replied, unscrewing the last metal rod. "Celeste, who did this to you?"
"Demons." She replied. "When I was sent from heaven to protect you, I encountered a dozen demons on the way to your home. They had been waiting for me and captured me before I could do anything."
"What, they tortured you for the fun of it?" Jackal asked, feeling anger burn inside him at the thought of people hurting a child.
"No, they insisted on me telling them where you were." Celeste explained. "As your guardian, I am able to determine your exact location at all times. I never gave it up so they tortured me for the information."
Jackal was holding the last metal rod and at that news, his fingers slipped and he dropped it, resulting in a loud clang.
"They did this to you because of me?" Jackal asked, feeling something other than anger grow inside him.
Guilt rose and coursed through him like blood in his veins. Celeste noticed that his face had paled and he had furrowed his brow with disbelief.
"Yes." She replied.
Celeste watched Jackal, confused at his show of remorse and guilt.
"Why do you look upset?" She asked, turning her head slightly to the side. "There's no need to feel guilt. It is my job to protect you."
"To the point of death, pain, and suffering?" Jackal asked sarcastically.
"Yes. Of course." Celeste answered.
Jackal couldn't think of something to respond with to her twisted logic and instead just kept his mouth shut and took off the metal headband.
"There." Jackal said, setting down the bloodied device on the ground.
"Thank you." Celeste said quietly.
The young angel shut her eyes and instantly, her body started to glow in a warm light. As her body shone, Jackal watched as the stab wound on her leg closed up along with the puncture wounds in her head and her broken left arm. Jackal expected the light to get brighter and blind him, but it dimmed within a few seconds and flickered to a stop.
Celeste took a shaky breath, clearly drained.
"I fixed up all the major wounds." She explained, her voice merely a whisper.
Celeste turned to look at Jackal, her green eyes staring at him intently.
"Take me far away from your house so when the demons come looking for me they won't find you." Celeste instructed. "If they find you, they'll kill you."
With those last words, the wounded angel closed her eyes and fell unconscious, blood still streaming from her many cuts and gashes.
Jackal ignored what Celeste said and picked up the girl, carrying her into his apartment. As he brought her inside, he watched as the cuts and bruises on her skin started to fade as she slept. Along with the cuts, her torn clothes started to repair themselves as well. Realizing that stitches and regular treatment were not needed, Jackal simply wrapped up the more serious wounds in gauze to stop the bleeding and laid her down in the apartment's guest bed which no one ever used. Jackal grabbed a chair and sat next to her bed, watching the mysterious angel.
Realizing he had so many questions, he had to restrain himself from shaking the girl awake and asking her to answer them.
Ever since Jackal was a child, his mom had never hidden anything from him, including his identity and her past. Once he was old enough to understand, she told him what he was, a Nephilim, explained that it was an important secret, and also told him that his father was an angel. Jackal's father, who left the moment he realized that Jackal's mother was pregnant, never came back or saw his son again. Honestly, Jackal couldn't care less, but some explanation would've been nice. As he grew older, just the truth about who he was wasn't enough and he started demanding answers such as what it meant to be Nephilim and who his father really was. Jackal's mother explained that Nephilim could perform spells and use weapons which would kill regular humans, but before she could explain anything important, she died in a car accident.
Jackal watched Celeste, waiting for her to wake up so she could answer a hundred of his questions. He waited until midnight, watching as her wounds slowly healed, leaving behind tiny white scars which were not noticeable unless you looked closely. Eventually, Jackal gave up hoping she'd wake up anytime soon and went to bed.