An unnameable speck appeared in the cloud-streaked sky. It wasn't a perfect day, but the sun filtered through the grey here and there in lustrous rays straight from Heaven itself. In the shade of the valley lay a small town, glittering in the distortive waves of heat rising from the cracked, barren land.
As the speck grew, Audrey recognised the distinct, rhythmic movement of wings: it was a bird. She watched it soar closer, through a radiant patch of light from above, which reflected off its brilliant white feathers as if they were polished silver. Instinctively, she raised her arm to her eyes to defend them against the glare, until the bird had cleared the heavenly hole in the clouds and the sun began to creep across the town.
It was getting close enough to identify now. She had thought perhaps it were a dove, but she could see now that it was much larger, and that flat, heart-shaped, dead-eyed face was, unmistakeably, that of an owl. Its plumage glowed even in the shade, and its black, predatory eyes stared directly into her own as she struggled to comprehend how it could be the most beautiful, divine creature she'd ever laid eyes upon, while simultaneously, the most terrible.
She was out of time. In the distance, she glimpsed the town in the valley, aflame under the scorching judgement of kingdom come, before a piercing screech reverberated around her and long, sharp talons gouged at her face.
Amidst the screaming, something captured her wrist: a large hand; she could feel the fingers squeezing against her pulse, and she awoke already in motion, upright and scrambling backward. A massive figure dominated her bleary vision in the instant before she toppled over the edge of the unfamiliar bed, and landed in a gasping heap on the rough but warm, wooden floor. Regaining her bearings, she lifted her head as her heart raced faster than the flutter of a hummingbird's.
On the other side of the room, peering at her with a bafflingly sincere look of concern was a beast that called itself an angel. The events of the previous two days flooded Audrey's mind and a name bubbled involuntarily to her lips.
"Gabriel," she heard herself whisper. A tear of shock tickled her cheek and she quickly brushed it away with the back of her trembling hand.
"You've nothing to fear," he replied, stepping around the foot of the bed and into the morning light streaming through the window above her.
A short, derisive huff of a laugh escaped her as she fell prey to the sarcastic, argumentative defence mechanism she'd developed in recent years – the one which had landed her and her parents at Paradise Falls in the first place. Immediately, though, she regretted it as the sapphire eyes that held her gaze steadfastly, and had appeared so icy and unfeeling in the darkness of the diner, suddenly reflected a depth of sorrow she could hardly begin to fathom. She'd seen that look before... in the moonlight, and the rain; she rested her hand over her heart as she remembered a firm pressure on her chest... and how it had kept her there, in that moment. Those eyes.
"You saved me," her voice came without warning once more, hoarse and resonant in the tiny, silent room.
Warily, she watched Gabriel spread his long wings back over the bed and perch on the edge above her. In the sunlight, it was easy to see the diamonds that now accompanied the sapphires as his brows knit together and disappeared into the palms of his hands. His armoured shoulders heaved and his remorse was resounding.
Audrey rolled slowly and carefully to her knees, observing him all the while. She'd never felt so confused in all her life. Two equally powerful instincts warred within her, and the peculiarity of the situation lent no help to her conflicted rationale.
If he intended to kill me, she conceded to herself, he never would have saved me. Filling her lungs quietly with courage, she stood. At her full height, his bowed head came level with her shoulder, which was still wrapped in her mother's bloodstained coat. She slid it off and laid it on the bed to find her own attire wasn't much better off.
Stepping a little closer, she peeled Gabriel's hands from his wet face and pulled his head and shoulders in against her. Thoughts of her mother danced through her mind as she ran her black, polished nails through his baby-soft hair, and when the gunshot echoed through her memory, she rested her cheek atop his head and shared his grief with tears of her own.
A pair of large, desperate arms encircled her waist and he shook harder. As she held him, she considered what could make his temperament change so quickly and dramatically. She didn't have to think hard.
"When I was a kid," she told him, steadying her voice with a deep breath, "I was good friends with the neighbor's daughter, Jasmine. She had this cat – Renoir, his name was, 'cause the two of them looked just like that painting Renoir did of Manet's niece and her cat."
Gabriel's weeping slowed a little, so she continued as she traced circles with her fingertips against his nape.
"My dad hated him, 'cause he used to come and crap on our lawn all the time," she pictured the white-breasted little furball squatting over the grass with a small chuckle. "Then one day, he found one of his favourite fish on the decking next to the pond – all ripped open and its guts were hanging out, it was gross – and next to it was a big, fat dollop of cat poop."
The angel in her arms was quiet now, save for the deep, shuddering breath he inhaled as she went on.
"He was so angry; he went over there and yelled at Jasmine's parents. When he came back, he shut the front door and said, I'll feed the damn thing chocolate raisins next time; that'll stop him! And I was like, five; I had no idea what he was really saying... chocolate raisins were just candy to me, and candy was tasty. So the next time I saw Jasmine – which was a pretty long time, my dad was furious – I told her what he'd said."
Lifting his head from her embrace, he looked up at her, eyes still shining, perplexed and mildly amused at her odd tale. She let one hand fall to her side; the other ran along the silky arc of his wing.
"She was really upset that my dad was angry. She thought if chocolate raisins could stop Renoir from getting in trouble, then it was a great idea. We got some and found him by the pond again; Jasmine was like, Wow, looks like we found him just in time!"
Audrey smoothed her fingers down the jet feathers, feeling the long, rigid quills between the satin vanes.
"We fed him the whole packet, and then we went off to play in the house. Later on, when we went looking for Renoir so Jasmine could take him home with her, we found him dead, floating in the water. We both screamed and screamed until Mom and Dad and both of Jasmine's parents came running to see what was wrong. It wasn't until Dad explained that we realised we'd poisoned the poor thing, and he'd obviously fallen in while he wasn't feeling well. I felt so awful, I cried for days. I just hadn't known what I was doing was wrong. I trusted in what I'd heard my dad say."
As she finished her story, she sat down next to him on the bed. His eyes followed her down, no longer bewildered as to the point of this memory she'd decided to share with him.
"What is your name?" His question came in a rasping whisper.
"Audrey."
Gabriel cupped her tear-tracked cheek with his hand in solidarity.
"You're wise for one so young, Audrey."
The irony of his statement brought a smile to her lips, and she looked over at the window. The sun was higher now; It must be at least ten, she thought.
"Where are we?" She returned her attention to Gabriel's pensive, azure eyes, now slightly pink around the edges, but still stunning nonetheless.
"A motel about fifteen miles northeast of... the mountains." He skirted around the vicious first impression he'd irrevocably given her for the time being. "Everyone appears to be gone."
Audrey respected his reluctance to talk about it, and not really too eager to go into much detail right now herself, she opted for a joke instead.
"Plenty of room at the inn then?"
Gabriel smiled widely, his lips parting to reveal a row of white teeth, so pearly she'd easily have believed they were taken from Heaven's own gates. She didn't make a habit of laughing at her own jokes, but she couldn't help but chortle at the absurdity of the circumstances. There she sat, wisecracking about the birth of Jesus with the Messenger of God himself, who seemed to appreciate her humour equally as he laughed alongside her.
Audrey surveyed his captivating eyes once again: bluer than the Caribbean Sea on the clearest summer day; brighter than the burning stars he flew among. They were like tiny, shiny worlds of their own, full of ebbing tides and serene skies. The fine creases that spread from the corners of his eyes were like musical scriptures, upon which the dusting of freckles across his cheekbones were the notes.
Directly below, on his right side, was a scarlet cut. It was fairly shallow, but his grin had stretched it open, dislodging the clot, and a small bead of blood trickled down to his jaw. Audrey raised her hand and mopped it up with the back of her finger, against the grain of his sandpapery cheek.
"Your cut's bleeding."
He looked down at the droplet she'd caught, and her own gaze followed.
"It's but a scratch. It won't take long to heal," Gabriel said dismissively.
"Maybe," Audrey replied, alarm spreading across her face as she caught sight of the much less trivial wound to his stomach, "but that'll take considerably longer."
He pulled the concertinaed fabric apart where Michael's sword had slashed through. She could see he'd already tended to it – it was sewn up with what looked like black cotton, interlocked like a blanket stitch for extra security.
He stood up, his expression impassive as he towered over her, and the light from the window no longer illuminated the hue of his irises, now cold and pale. Audrey's hands inched back over the bedspread of their own accord, ready to swing her lower body over to the other side and catapult her towards the door. Gabriel sensed the abrupt change in her body language immediately and took a step away, lowering his chin, palms up to calm her.
"You still fear me." It wasn't a question. Audrey looked away. "I thought..." He trailed off, either unable or unwilling to finish. She felt another pang of guilt as his brow wrinkled with sadness over her mistrust.
"I can see that you're sorry, I just... I don't know precisely what for. Where's Charlie and Jeep?"
"They left. They thought you were dead."
"And the- the baby?" She asked, debating whether she really wanted to know just how far he'd gone. He seemed really sorry.
"Is fine. Michael... Michael put an end to the Apocalypse, including the hunt for the child."
Audrey didn't understand, but his succinct answers were enough for now. At least she knew it hadn't all been for nothing.
"You don't look like an angel," she vindicated. "You look... like a warrior."
"They're one and the same. I am a warrior of God."
She looked at him uncertainly, but she could see he wasn't so sure of his words himself. He scrutinized the deep grooves that scarred his breastplate, and turned his muscular arms to see the barbed elbow pads strapped to them. Audrey got to her feet.
"Who are you here to fight?" His silence was palpable and telling. "Am I your enemy?"
"No," he answered resolutely. He contemplated the suggestion for a moment, and understood her request. His armour made her anxious.
Reaching up to unbuckle the leather straps holding his breastplate firmly in place, he watched her closely. Her jade eyes traced his movements as he lowered the heavy iron to hang over his belt and tasset, which he unclasped on one side of the sunrise emblem and removed.
Underneath, he wore a leather vest, ruched around the waist and buttoned down the side. As he twisted to undo it, he winced at how his stitches pulled with the shift. Audrey halted him with her hands on his torso. She glanced up before proceeding to unbutton the vest herself. On the side her nimble fingers worked, Gabriel rested his hand on the wall to make it easier for her, but no sooner had he done so, it was hanging open.
With a slight, impressed smile, he released it from the hooks under his pauldrons, slid it over them and laid it with his body armour. Beneath, his primary garment was a black tunic, Audrey noted as she reached for the buckle under his left bicep. Her fingers brushed against his smooth, cool skin and her concentration became significantly more difficult to maintain. Gabriel took the pauldron and set it aside with the rest, and she moved to the other. She was acutely aware of his attention to her now, making her swallow on a dry mouth. After placing the remaining shoulder-plate on the pile, she removed his unforgiving elbow pads, and then held each of his forearms to unbutton the wristguards. As she dropped them to the floor, she noticed his gleaming greaves and bent to one knee to unstrap those, too. They came away to reveal leather boots that encased his trouser-legs midway up his calves, arching slightly at the front around his shins.
Standing, she looked up at a different man. His face was kind and his arms welcoming. The only thing left is that ugly collar, she thought.
Audrey stood on tiptoes and raised her hands once more, but Gabriel's large, powerful hands seized her wrists not even halfway up.
"That doesn't come off."