After a massive storm, he found her buried under masses of rocks and fallen trees… Her beautiful mocha-colored skin was bruised and scratched; her wounds were severe…
She was unconscious, her long, mahogany mane was tousled and dirty, and her clothes were ripped. He tried to free her with as little effort as possible, he was scared he could make a mistake, and the damaged pieces of buildings, natural disaster rocks, and wood could fall onto her and injure her even more.
While he was working, she surprisingly opened her eyes, which showed breathtaking pale green, light, mint-colored irises…
He hadn’t paid attention for a moment, and since he considered himself safe, she caught a glimpse of his powdery white wings – and started screaming.
Simael swung around and stared at her, a movement that wasn’t exactly soothing to her since her cries got even louder and shriller.
Finally, Simael lost his patience and harshly barked at her: “I’m trying to help you, woman. Would you mind at least not causing my hearing any damage?”
Hearing his words, she closed her mouth, her breathing was still heavy and filled with apparent fear, but finally, she gave his ears a rest.
While hiding his wings in a friendlier tone, he introduced himself: “My name is Simael. I discovered you here and hoped I could free you and take you to get medical care as quickly as possible. If that is a problem for you, please let me know.”
She eyed him curiously, his voice seemed to have calmed her down a little bit, and she replied shyly: “No… that’s… I’m sorry… I’m grateful for your help. You’re Simael, the Moon Angel?”
He looked at her closer. “I am.” He replied shortly. “And you are?” She tried a smile. “My name is Gwendolyn. I’m sorry, Archangel. You scared me for a moment. I didn’t expect ever to meet one of you. I want to shake your hand, but currently, I’m a bit handicapped.” Simael nodded curtly. “I understand.”
He kept working until she was free of debris, then bent over her. “Do you feel any pain?” She nodded. “In my shoulders, chest, and head. Below my belt, I cannot feel anything.”
Simael got worried. “That doesn’t sound good.” I might want to take you to a healer rather than a doctor, it seems?” She nodded. “Yes, I would appreciate that.”
Simael contacted his brother, Raphael, without a word, asking for healing support. Only a few minA female angel showed up only a few minutes later, a healing backpack. The woman on the ground looked scared. “What’s wrong with me?” She wailed.
The angel smiled. “I just arrived. Give me a moment to examine you, please. I hope I will be able to tell you more after that. – My name is Caylee, by the way.”
“Gwendolyn.” The angel bent over her. “Nice to meet you.” She examined Gwendolyn carefully and then got up. “I doubt it’s too bad, Gwendolyn. I want to discuss a few things with my fellow angels. I’ll be right back.” Gwendolyn nodded weakly. She seemed to feel horrible and looked dreadful.”
Caylee stepped to Simael and stared him in the eyes. “This isn’t a human being. She’s a supernatural form, but for my life, I cannot determine what kind of being she is. I wish we had a Demon Tracker here.” Simael smiled. “I knew she was supernatural. She caught a glimpse of my wings and addressed me as ‘Archangel.’
Caylee frowned. Not as ‘Angel,’ but as ‘Archangel’? That’s odd.” Behind them, someone giggled. “It’s not so odd when you consider Simael’s look. No other angel looks like him, and as a supernatural creature, she would know that Moon Angel is Sim. So, that’s not witchcraft.”
Simael smiled. “Hi there, Callie.” He introduced Gwendolyn to ‘Caliandra.’ “She’s one of our oldest experts in Supernatural beings,” Simael explained. The breathtaking Newcomer indeed had a few gray streaks in her hair, but her face was youthful, and she nearly burst with energy.
Caliandra shook her head and frowned at Simael: “You had to use the word ‘old’ in my introduction, didn’t you?” Simael’s eyes widened. But Caliandra laughed. “Well, it’s true… But I’m just playing with you, Simael. Let’s have a closer look at Suri. I have seen similar eyes before, and the ones here are brown with a yellowish glow. It seems the girl has origins she’d like to hide.” Caliandra looked at Caylee. “Did you pick up a particular smell when you examined her?” Caylee nodded. “She smelled a bit like cold ashes.” Caliandra sighed. “I thought so.” Caylee frowned. “I don’t follow you; I’m sorry. What’s the obvious that I oversaw?” Simael smiled. “I had to learn all that too. The flames within Suri’s body show nowhere but in her eyes, and her smell indicates one race that normally is frowned upon. Some angels consider them demons, but in Hell, they’re not welcome either since their skills are much higher developed than demon skills – and brains. These creatures can be dangerous to angels, even Archangels if they’re old enough.”
Caylee’s eyes widened… “Oh.” She said, a little helplessly. After a moment, she added. “I don’t know if I’m willing, under these circumstances….” Simael interrupted her sharply. “I called you to assist Suri and help her because she’s injured. I don’t care what you are ‘willing’ to do… I gave you an order, and no matter the circumstances, I expect it to be fulfilled – and pronto, if you please.” He turned away from her and walked for a few steps; soon, his body had disappeared between the trees. Caylee, who had stared after him, turned to Caliandra. “I’m not used….” Caliandra held up her hand and interrupted the younger angel: “I’m not interested in excuses. I’m an old, very old angel, my child. And I’m now giving you some much-needed advice: We are angels! If you want to stay one, you better improve your attitude.”
Caylee’s eyes were big. “I proved a long time ago that my skills….” Caliandra interrupted her again. “I’m not talking about your skills in healing. I’m talking about your behavior. As an angel, we do not show any preference when it comes to our good Lord’s creatures, no matter what and who they are! We are unique in many ways, but God created humans and all supernatural forms, and we are to love one as the other. We are helping where our help is needed, and we sure don’t show any kind or form of bullying or neglect. I recommend you’ll remember that next time you deal with Simael. He has been bullied and doesn’t take that behavior lightly.”
Caylee nodded. “I understand. I appreciate your help, older sister.” She bowed politely and retreated to go over to Suri. “Madame. I think the trauma of being hit has caused you partial paralysis, but I’m almost convinced it won’t last. If you let me carefully touch your spine and torso, I could make sure you don’t have any internal bleeding or injuries and maybe find out more. I understand if you don’t want that, but I’m convinced it would help. Also, it could take some of your pain.”
Suri nodded, her eyes wide and dark. “I’d appreciate that. Thank you very much.” Caylee started to work on Suri and helped her to control her pain. Also, she ensured that Suri was comfortable treating the beautiful woman. After the treatment, Caylee informed Suri: “I knew it wasn’t so bad. Thank God you don’t have internal bleeding; your organs are intact, and everything works fine. But you have a swelling that puts pressure onto your spine and partially causes numbness in your lower body half. We will have to wait for a while until the swelling goes down. Your mobility should return soon. If not, let Simael call me. I’ll keep on working until we get this fixed.”
Suri smiled. “Thanks so very much. I don’t know how to thank you.” Caylee returned the smile. “Don’t fuss. You need help, and this is only a little bit I can do. Let me get Simael for you.”
Simael had carried Suri to one of his hiding spots and had provided her with a beautiful haven, a breathtaking view, food, and exciting conversation. They spent several weeks together in the house on the cliffs when Suri finally asked him: “Archangel, I think I’m all but cured. I don’t know how long you want to keep me imprisoned here, and I start feeling like your pet.”
Simael was shocked. “I’m sorry to hear that, Suri. I didn’t expect you to feel like I’m holding you, hostage.” He said stiffly. “I would never hurt you, and I thought I’d help you recover.”
Suri shook her head. “I recovered a week ago. I’m still waiting for you to tell me what you want from me?”
Suri laughed. “You’re interesting… in a conversation, yes, sometimes. But the fact is, we both have merely nothing in common. After I started singing your feathers, I thought you would figure out I’m not at the right place here.”
Simael shrugged. “I didn’t… Well… why the discussion. I’m not holding you prisoner here, Suri. You’re free to go whenever you feel like it.” He gestured toward the door. “Goodbye.”
She found herself standing outside, somewhere in nowhere… there was no phone reception, and the next street seemed seven to twelve miles away.
Suri turned around, half expecting that Simael was staring after her on the stairs to the porch. But the house was gone, and so was the Archangel. Only a few sparks reminded her that there had been some magic involved…
She stared at the sky and swore, “You will pay for that, Archangel. You can’t do that with me and then think you’re getting away with it. You’ll regret that.”
Far away, in the ‘Great Hall,’ Gabriel calmly said to Zachariel: “Aleja jacta sunt…”
To be continued
A while back, somebody suggested I write a few posts on the ‘Bad Boy’ concept. I agreed thinking it shouldn’t be too hard. Now, I’m sitting here trying to figure out what I was thinking. Seriously, this feels like it’s outside of my ballpark because ‘Bad Boy’s in my mind don’t really appear outside of romances and dramas. Then again, I’m using a very narrow definition. Let me try to enhance it by some stream of consciousness writing.
Welcome!
The Labyrinth: 
A Girl Named Truth: 
‘There is no such thing as a new idea’, Mark Twain once wrote. Which is bad news for anyone trying to be original! But as he goes on to say, we can create new and endless numbers of new combinations. Still, what if you find that you keep coming up with ideas that have already been done? I’m reading a charming little book at the moment, ‘How To Fall In Love With A Man Who Lives In A Bush’, (quite easily, it seems, apparently Austrian men aren’t up to much) where the protagonist dreams of becoming an author. The only problem is that every story she comes up with has already been written …. by Charlotte Bronte or Stephen King!
Welcome!
Writer's Treasure Chest 
You must be logged in to post a comment.