Gabriel drew his sword back out of Uriel's shoulder. His blade - soaked with blood . . . he lost his temper; this was the first time outside of battle that he had ever done that.
He was a healer and not a warrior, but Uriel brought out so much rage within himself. Uriel was selfish . . . didn't he realise that he could have fucked up everything for them?
Uriel slumped down against the wall. His shoulder was gushing blood. "I chose Gadrial's side!"
Gabriel swished his sword in the air, and droplets of Uriel's blood fell to the floor, "What made you think that Gadrial was on the fallen's side? You know perfectly well that she has to be won over."
Uriel closed his eyes . . . the pain in his shoulder was excruciating, panting he replied, "I will win her over. "
Gabriel walked to him and knelt in front of him, his sword raised against his neck, "If Lucian couldn't convince her to have changed to the fallen's side, in all the years she reincarnated. What makes you think you can?"
He saw Uriel close his eyes - his hand was now quivering at his neck. His sword was begging him to draw blood again.
Uriel drew a breath, "Because I love her . . . Lucian always played her puppeteer."
Gabriel paused at his words - his hand steadied. "You are going in circles, Uriel. She is Lucian's . . . you do not have a claim to her."
Uriel opened his eyes; there was nothing but rage in them. He lifted his sword and pushed Gabriel back. "I have a claim to her! Haven't you listened to a word I have said? She is my soulmate!" He rushed forward as Gabriel staggered backwards. "This time, I will not stay silent!"
He swung his sword, and Gabriel blocked just in time. He didn't stop swinging his sword, stabbing forward. "I have stayed on the sidelines and listened to you! How you told me to let Lucian work his magic so the war could finally end!" He raised his sword above his head - Gabriel plunged his sword into his side.
Gabriel let the sword slide deeper and whispered in his ear. "She is not your soulmate . . . you cannot convince me otherwise. No matter how many times you tell yourself that, Uriel."
He heard Uriel gasp for breath, and he continued. "She will always be Lucian's . . . you should stop meddling in affairs that you are envious of."
He drew his sword back as Uriel fell to his knees, clasping his side.
"I never thought you would have been this pathetic, Uriel. I always looked up at you, " he sheathed his sword. "You are damning us all with your selfishness."
Uriel hunched over, coughing up blood. "You still do not understand-"
Gabriel bent his wings back. "No, you don't understand. If you continue to meddle, Uriel. I won't stop next time."
He turned on his heels and left Uriel in the middle of the floor. He went to the staircase . . . he didn't want to take the elevator to the roof; he had to fly to clear his head.
Everything was a mess! Never had there been so many problems before Gadrial's awaking. Testosterone was flying in the air, yet he couldn't help to resonate with the words that Uriel spat at him.
There was no way that Gadrial was his soulmate . . . at the time he met them - they were above emotions. It had been when she met Lucian that those human emotions came into play. Why didn't Uriel speak up? Why did he stay in the shadows and watch his 'soulmate' in the arms of another?
He reached the roof and gritted his teeth in frustration; he spread his wings and took flight. Nothing could be done about Uriel's memory-wiping spell because it became the law when the words had left Uriel's lips.
The clouds were still dark, and the lighting wasn't backing down . . . Gabriel felt the anger the storm sang to earth; if he went to a club, he could clear his head better. The storm was only making him angrier by the second.
Uriel didn't know how long he had laid on the floor; in his pool of blood, he dug his sword into the floor to help him to stand up.
The worst part now was to clean up this mess, and many curious people were living in this building. He let out a groan of discomfort. His side was still gushing blood; at least his shoulder stopped a while ago.
He sheathed his sword - it disappeared and bent his wings backwards. He heard a door open, and his eyes darted to it. "Shit! She wasn't supposed to wake up yet." He couldn't move fast enough.
Christine stepped into the hall. She was groggy. "Hello?" Her eyes were adjusting to the dimness she spotted the silhouette further down.
Uriel stood still and prayed, "Please do not come closer, Christine. . . I am begging."
She walked further from her door, and the silhouette became clearer. Was that her neighbour? She rarely talked to him - her eyes widened as she took in the scene. There was blood everywhere! She wrecked her brain for his name. "Uriel?!"
She ran towards him and placed her hand on his back. "My God! Are you okay? What happened? Have you been mugged?"
The questions poured from her. Uriel's only answer was a groan.
"We should get you cleaned up." She placed his arm around her shoulder. He was hunched over with his other hand still on his side, keeping pressure on the wound.
A few hours earlier. . .
Christine slammed her apartment door behind her. What was that? What the fuck is he? Was he into weird sex fantasies?
She threw her shoes on the floor; her dress wasn't completely straight. She had the best sex in her life - and he- thing whatever he was . . . she couldn't finish the thought.
"How is it possible that you attracted the weirdest men to yourself, Christine!" She screamed in frustration. "Get in the shower, block out Uriel, and sleep!"
At least she had a job interview tomorrow - which was the most positive - thing going for her. As she walked to the bathroom, she kept throwing the clothes on the floor - she would clean up later.
She turned on the shower and placed her hand under the water; she needed it as warm as possible. She climbed in and started scrubbing at herself. She was trying to clean Uriel from her, trying to forget him . . . but her mind won't let her.
She paused and heard a jealous chuckle in her subconscious, "Well, Christine, how was your first time with an angel?"
What? Is she really going to have a conversation with herself now? "I have no idea what you are talking about - and who are you?"
The voices chuckled again, "So you didn't know you fucked an Angel?"
Why was this voice so rude? Who was she? "Who are you?"
The voice paused, "I do not know. . . all that I do know is my name is Gadrial."
Gadrial? Christine got out of the shower and grabbed a towel. She wasn't superstitious but having a voice in your head was definitely not a good sign. "Can you - like get out of my head?"
"I would love to if I know how to get out of your head."
Christine dried herself off and grabbed her pj's. This was strange. . . wait - she said, Angel?
"You said I had sex with an Angel?"
She felt the smugness of the voice in her head. "You didn't know? Now that is a surprise. They are the masters of twisting one's feelings."
She was near her bed and opened the covers; angels do not exist. "I do not believe you. . . they are made up."
"Oh? An atheist, are you?"
Christine climbed into bed and didn't answer. She didn't like - the fact - that she had to keep explaining her beliefs to someone.
"Why aren't you answering me?"
"Silence is an answer too. I am going to sleep."
"Good night Christine. I hope you live it through the transition."
She didn't hear the last words the voice spoke to her. She closed her eyes and fell asleep in minutes.
Christine's apartment door opened - Uriel came in, and he saw her clothes were lying on the floor. He had to be quiet; he hadn't done this in aeons.
He slowly walked to her bedroom - everything was peaceful. He slowly crept closer to her bed and peered at her face. His heart melted; he felt conflicted about what he was about to do. You are beautiful, he thought.
He knelt at her bedside and put his lips near her ear. "You do not know a person named Uriel, he is your neighbour, and you don't really talk much. You are nothing more than acquaintances."
He placed his hand on her forehead, "This is my law. . . I will take your memories - I am sorry, Christine."
He heard thunder roaring in the sky, and through the window, he saw the clouds blacken.
It was done.