“Go away!” Lash growled.
The door swung open, and Raphael stepped in. Cold blue eyes glared at Lash. “I have had enough of your nonsense, Lahash.”
“Oh my,” Megan said, her eyes growing wide. “Are you Him? Are you”—she swallowed—“God?”
Raphael gazed down at the half-naked girl. His eyes softened. “What is your name, my child?”
“Megan.” Glassy eyes stared into his in awe.
Lash took a step forward. “Raphael, you have no—”
“I know what you are going to say. And you are wrong. I do have a right to be here.” Raphael’s lips pressed into a thin line as he glanced back and forth between Lash’s wings and Megan’s shocked face. “You should not have exposed yourself like that to her. It will only be a hardship for the poor girl.”
“Oh, I exposed parts of myself that you couldn’t even dream of.” Lash zipped up his jeans and smirked.
“What has happened to you?” Raphael took a step forward, his face shifting from anger to worry. “You have never spoken to me with such disrespect.”
“Thirty-five years happened! What did you expect?” Lash folded his wings into his body and reached for his shirt. “She’ll probably think it’s a part of her high.” For her sake, he hoped she wouldn’t remember. Raphael was right—he should’ve never brought her here. He wasn’t about to admit it to him, though. Gabrielle may have been the one to get him kicked out, but he hadn’t heard from his so-called friend until now.
Raphael shook his head and then turned to Megan with a look of pity. “Come here, my child.”
Megan stumbled her way to Raphael and was about to fall when he caught her. He raised her head, studying her intently. “Do you know who I am?”
“God?” she whispered.
“I am Raphael, Archangel of Healing, Compassion, and Love. You have defiled your body to ease the pain that throbs deep within your soul. He knows what your heart desires. You only have to ask and it shall be given.”
She blinked, confused. “Who is He?”
“He is known by many different names: God, Lord, Allah, Yahweh … all are one and the same. Know this—He loves you.”
“What do I ask for?”
“Whatever you wish.” Raphael cradled her face in his hands.
She gazed into Raphael’s eyes, and her face crumpled. She dropped to her knees, wrapping her arms around his legs. “Make it go away, please. I don’t want to feel the pain anymore.”
Raphael squatted on the floor and took Megan’s hands into his. “The man who calls himself father will not hurt you anymore. You are not a sexual object or the personal sex slave that he made you out to be. You are a child of God, and with faith in Him, you shall find peace.”
Lash’s heart ached when he saw the tears spill down her cheeks, and guilt gnawed at him again. She wasn’t the first woman he’d used. It was easy moving from one girl to the next; it was only sex. They were happy—he was happy. What was the harm? As long as he kept to one-night stands and didn’t get to know them, he was able keep himself behind the wall he’d built. Deep inside, however, he knew what he was doing was selfish and wrong.
Raphael took hold of her arm and hovered his hand over the fresh needle tracks. Megan moaned as a ripple traveled along the length of her arm, like a worm trapped underneath her skin. The movement stopped at the small hole of the injection site and a white gel-like substance oozed out.
Megan’s eyes widened, and she quivered as the white gel spilled to the floor. When it was over, she gazed at Raphael, her eyes clear and coherent. “Thank you.”
“Go now, and sin no more.”
Megan kissed his hands. Quickly, she put on her jeans and retrieved her purse, throwing its contents and drug paraphernalia into it. When she went to the door, her eyes met Raphael’s, and her cheeks flooded red with embarrassment.
Raphael touched her cheek lightly. “Remember, what once was, now is no more.”
She broke out into a smile. Looking down at her purse, she turned and tossed it in the trash can before walking out, head held high.
Lash walked to the trash can and rummaged through the purse, taking out a lighter and a joint of marijuana. He glared at Raphael, daring him to do something as he lit it and took a puff.
“Lahash, you can’t tell me that this … this stuff is actually doing anything to you,” Raphael admonished. “Our bodies do not react to foreign substances like human bodies do.”
“Nope,” he said, holding his breath for a moment and then slowly expelled smoke. “I don’t feel a thing.”
Raphael grimaced. Lash was about to take another hit when—with a wave of Raphael’s hand—the smoke dissipated and the joint turned to ash. “Then why, pray tell, do you even bother sullying your body with it?”