Lash Broken Angel

4





Lash watched the tall redhead as she searched the smoke-filled room. The only illumination came from the string of lights that lined the stage, where a couple of her co-workers worked the pole. It was late in the afternoon, and business was slow, except for the group of retired old men that were the bar’s regulars. When her eyes wandered to the back corner of the room and locked with his, he smirked at the obvious lust written across her face as she took in the black t-shirt that molded his sculpted chest, faded, torn jeans hugging his hips, and wild, dark hair.

Lash broke into a smile as she sauntered toward him. His eyes traveled over her body, taking in the long curves of her legs, leopard-pastie-covered breasts, and the dollar-lined thong that hugged her waist, leaving little to the imagination. He stood to meet her when a hand slammed against his shoulder and shoved him back down into his seat.

“Gabrielle,” he growled. “How did you find me?”

“Get away, sister. This one is mine,” the redhead said as she eyed Gabrielle.

Gabrielle looked at the redhead and frowned. Shaking her head, she took off her leather jacket and tossed it to the girl. “Leave this place and don’t return.”

The redhead blinked, looking confused.

Gabrielle leaned in toward her and whispered, “You’ll find a better job tomorrow. I promise.”

Stunned, the redhead simply nodded, put on Gabrielle’s jacket, and walked out the door.

“Michael doesn’t like it when you use your Jedi mind tricks on humans.” Lash wagged a finger.

Gabrielle yanked out a chair and wiped it down with a napkin before she sat. “Thirty-five years on Earth and the most you’ve accomplished is an in-depth knowledge of George Lucas films. Nice.”

“Let’s call it an anthropological study of human nature.” Lash smirked as he lifted his drink.

Gabrielle frowned. “You defile your body as well as your mind.”

“I’d think you’d find it entertaining.”

“I have more important things to do than watch you wallow in your self-created misery.”

“What? You don’t care if I fall to the dark side?” Lash feigned wide-eyed innocence. “I’m hurt.”

“I don’t know what Raphael sees in you. I’m wasting my time here.”

“If you don’t plan to take off those clothes and dance around that pole over there, then, yes, I would say you are.”

Her eyes turned cold. “Barbarian.”

“Some women like it.” He grinned, unrepentant.

“Ugh, let’s get this over with. I have an assignment for you.”

“I’m out of the family business, remember?” Lash leaned back in his seat. “As I recall, you were there when I was unceremoniously tossed out the door.”

“It was the highlight of my century.”

“I’m sure it was.” Lash looked into her cat-like eyes and wished he could wipe the smugness off her face. “Whatever you have, I’m not interested.”

Gabrielle arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” She pulled out a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of her jeans and waved it in front of his face. “Aren’t you the least bit curious why Michael would give you an assignment after all these years?”

He was curious, but by no means did he want Gabrielle to know it. He tilted the chair back, balancing himself on its hind legs, and placed his legs on the table. “I couldn’t care less.”

“I told Raphael not to waste his time.”

His chair wobbled, threatening to throw him off balance. He quickly adjusted. Without taking his eyes off her, he said, “For once, we agree on something.”

Gabrielle tossed the paper to the center of the table. “Whether you care or not is none of my concern. What you do with it is your choice.”

Lash glanced at the paper out of the corner of his eye. He knew she’d continue to watch him after she left to see if he’d sneak a peek. “Leaving so soon?” He dropped the front legs of the chair to the floor when she stood.

“I have better things to do than to watch you waste your gifts away. Michael should have stripped them all from you the moment he kicked you out.”

“Gifts? Please. Don’t make me laugh. I’m limited with what I can do in my human form, you know that.” His ability to see and hear was still better than a human’s, and he was much stronger than they were, but his flying distance was severely cut back. He hated it.

“Oh, poor you,” she said before she turned and walked toward the door. “I’m done here.”

“Wait,” Lash called out after her. “Why did Michael send you to deliver the assignment?”

Gabrielle turned, piercing eyes locked with his and lips turned into a wicked smile. “I volunteered.”

Her words were like a slap in the face. She knew that by delivering the message herself he would turn it down. It must be something really important for her to be desperate enough to make sure he wouldn’t accept it.

Lash reached for the paper, and Gabrielle’s smile froze. He chuckled. “You really don’t want me to see this do you?”

Gabrielle smoothed her features and shrugged. “As I said, I don’t really care.” She opened the door, letting the afternoon light filter into the dark club. As she walked out the door, she muttered under her breath, “Weakling,” and slammed the door shut.

“Bitch!” Lash yelled after her, knowing full well that she could hear him even if he had whispered it. Without thinking, he grabbed the paper, ripped it to shreds and tossed them in the air. As the white pieces fluttered down to the floor, he drained the last of his whiskey and slammed the glass on the table, shattering it.

Damn human body and its sensitivity to pain. He winced when he opened his hand and plucked shards of glass from his palm. Blood oozed and dripped on to the table.

“Hon, are you—oh my, you’re bleedin',” a woman drawled. She ran over to the bar and came back with a dishrag. “Wrap this 'round your hand.”

Lash jerked the towel from her, angry that Gabrielle got the better of him.

“Hey! You don’t have to be so mean,” the woman said.

Lash looked up and peered into a pair of green eyes similar to Gabrielle’s, except much kinder. She gasped.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmured, mesmerized. “Is there anything I can get you?”

Lash smirked. In their human forms, all angels were seen as striking to humans, even the fallen. Luckily for him, every woman he ran into since he was cast out was desperate for his attention and did anything he asked of her. At first, he didn’t want to take advantage, but when he realized that he was left on his own, he needed to make a living somehow. Beautiful body or not, it needed to be clothed, fed, and sheltered. Humans were so high maintenance.

“No, I’m fine. It’s just a scratch,” Lash said as he wiped his hand and shoved it into his jacket pocket. He knew that within a couple of minutes the wound would be healed. It was one of the gifts he was allowed to have that came in handy over the years.

“Are you sure? It looked pretty bad.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He studied her as she picked up the shards of glass carefully and tossed them in a nearby trashcan. In the dimmed bar, she looked like a younger version of Gabrielle. When she returned, his eyes trailed the marks on her arms. His hand touched a baggie inside his pocket, and he smiled. A thought came to his mind as to how he could get back at Gabrielle and have a little fun at the same time.

He gave the women his most smoldering look. “What’s your name?”

Her eyes darkened. “Megan,” she said breathlessly.

He leaned over and tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Interested in a good time?”

***

Lash concentrated on the pressure that grew in the pit of his stomach. His body swayed back and forth, relishing the heat on his skin—the only type of warmth that could give him respite from the numbness of the last thirty-five years.

At first, he thought of it as an adventure, living among humans. He was honestly curious what it felt like to be on the other side. He thought he’d be forgiven and taken back into the fold. It wasn’t like he committed a deadly sin or anything like that. But months turned into years, and years into decades. When he realized he was never going home, his heart grew cold.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to erase the smug expression on Gabrielle’s face when he was ordered out, but it was seared in his mind.

It bothered him that he was kicked out so easily. Didn’t they recognize how difficult it was for him to help people who were so ungrateful? It was to the point that many felt entitled to receive what he had to give. People believed that all they had to do was ask and they would receive. Yeah, there were times that he went against orders, but it all worked out in the end, and his assignments were left the better for it. When it came to the little girl who truly did deserve to live, he was going on pure instinct. He had been certain that Michael would be on his side about it. Well, f*ck that and f*ck his job.

A moan distracted him from his thoughts, and he looked down at the source. Strands of bottled-blonde hair swayed in synchrony with his hips, brushing against his thighs. Hot, wet sensations engulfed him as he pressed into the slick depths of her mouth faster, desperate for heat, for release from the darkness that overwhelmed him.

“F*ck!” he cried as the pressure within him erupted. In that small moment, he escaped from the invisible chains that tied him to the cold, and warmth spread across his body. He was home again, walking under the bright blue skies, the sun shining on his face.

As quickly as it came, it disappeared and a chill slid up his back, causing him to shudder. The stench of rotten eggs and urine hit him abruptly, and his eyes flashed open. He was back in the hellhole that was his life now. Yesterday it was the Triple Leaf Motel; today it was The Lucky Seven Inn. They were all the same. So were the women who helped him find his escape, even if it was only for a minute.

Green eyes gazed at him. He imagined it was her face, the one that had condemned him to his fate to walk the earth, far away from family and friends. “Swallow it.”

Megan gulped then stood slowly, rubbing her thin, naked body up against his. “Come on, baby, give me a hit,” she purred.

He reached for his jeans, pulled out a baggie of clear crystal, and tossed it to her.

She squealed and ran to the other side of the room where her purse lay. She threw its contents on the floor, causing a scurry of roaches to run for cover.

Lash walked to the kitchen, if you could call it that in a one-room studio. He poured a glass of whiskey as he watched Megan. Like a surgeon, her hands moved with precision, holding a lighter under a rusty spoon with one hand and a needle in the other. For a brief moment, his conscience pricked with guilt.

“Oh, baby, this is some good shit!” She loosened the band from her arm, crawled onto the bed, and looked at him seductively. “Why don’t you join me?”

In the dim light, he saw a hint of the beauty she once was. It was obvious her drug habit had taken its toll—her hair hung limp and greasy, and her skin looked sallow. Needle-tracked arms reached out to him. “Come here. I’ll help you.”

“I’d need a lot more than that to get any kind of lift off.” He picked her clothes from the floor and tossed them to her. “Put them on.”

She tugged a faded, purple t-shirt down her head. “Why is that? Are you some kind of superhuman or something?”

He snorted. “If I show you something, promise to keep it a secret?”

She crawled to the edge of bed. “Cross my heart and hope to die.” She made the sign of the cross over the left part of her chest.

Lash smirked and took a step back. He dropped his arms to his side, palms facing upward, and relaxed his shoulders. Then, he pushed.

The girl gasped at the sound of tearing skin.

“What are you doing?” she cried as droplets of blood fell to the floor.

He smiled. “Wait. There’s more.”

Her eyes widened as two white objects emerged, lining the length of his back. He gave one final push and they expanded.

“What the….” She rubbed her eyes. “F*ck me! You’re an angel.”

She jumped at the sound of someone knocking at the door.

“Lahash, it is I, Raphael. Open the door. I know you are in there.”

“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 Rafael’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 trashcan before walking out, head held high.

Lash walked to the trashcan 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.

“Lash, 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?”

“Because it drives you ape-shit.” He grinned.

Raphael’s eyes turned cold. He grabbed Lash by the neck and threw him against the wall. He leaned in close, his face less than an inch from Lash’s. “It is exactly this attitude that got you banished from Heaven.”

“Like hell, it was.” Lash struggled against him. “That bitch, Gabrielle, got me here. She didn’t have to rat me out.”

“No, Lahash. It was you. It was all you.” Raphael’s face reddened as he pressed Lash into the wall, causing it to crack. “You interfered with her role and challenged her authority as archangel. All missions are given for a purpose and should be followed accordingly. The girl was not meant to survive the accident.”

“Gabrielle”—he spat name as if it were something bitter—“was waiting for an opportunity to get me kicked out. She hates me.”

“That is not true.”

He scowled. “She does. You’re just too blind to see it.”

Raphael closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. His anger was not helping Lash to see reason; it was doing the opposite.

“I know you two are not on the best terms.”

“That’s an understatement,” Lash muttered.

Raphael ignored him and continued. “She has everyone’s best interest at heart, including yours. I’m sure of it.” He released his hold and stepped away. “You were reckless, disregarding those around you. I do not understand this kind of behavior from you.”

Lash sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I don’t see the point. Why do we bother with what we do? People will do whatever they want to, anyway. Like Megan. She’ll probably be high again within the hour.”

“That’s the problem with you, Lash. You have lost faith.”

“Faith?” Lash snatched a remote control from the nightstand and turned on the television, flipping through the various channels, pausing a moment between each tap of the button. His jaw clenched as he scowled at each image that littered the screen: men covered in blood, bodies lying on a dirt road, and women shrouded in black, crying out in anguish; a destroyed building with smoke and ash whirling in the air, and women and children spilling out of it, covered in ash; a dark-skinned little boy, no more than four years old, dressed in a pair of muddied shorts, his stomach swollen from hunger and face blank as he stood alone on the side of a road.

He stopped at a channel that displayed a group of women primping and dressing toddlers to look like high-class hookers with the intent of winning a beauty pageant.

Lash threw the remote, shattering the screen. “Is that what you want me to have faith in? How can I put faith in them?”

Raphael looked to the cracked television, his eyes glistening. “Lash, do you not think that I have felt the same way you do? I, too, have struggled with placing my faith in people, especially when it seems as though no one cares for anyone else but themselves.” Raphael placed a hand on his shoulder. “Michael has agreed to give you one more chance. He will allow your return if you prove your devotion and faith.”

“Why would I want to do that?” Lash asked, feigning disinterest. The wall he had built around himself, to protect him from getting hurt, was in full force.

“You can’t fool me. I know you want to return.”

Shit. He should have known that Raphael would see right through him.

“Fine. What do I need to do?”

Relief flashed in Raphael’s eyes, and he schooled his face as he took out an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket. “This is the location and the photo of your next assignment.”

Lash sighed as he ripped the envelope open and took the card out. “Naomi Duran,” he read. “Duran. Wait, is she related to Javier Duran?”

Raphael opened his mouth then closed it. Lash could tell there was something important he wanted to tell him, but it looked as though there was also something holding him back.

“All I can tell you is that it is of vital importance that you keep her safe,” Raphael said.

Lash cursed under his breath. They weren’t going to make it easy for him. He flipped over the card and looked at the photo. A pretty young woman with wide, pale blue eyes looked back at him. The room became still as he studied the photo. He glanced up and found Raphael leaning toward him expectantly.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Raphael diverted his eyes. He walked to the sole window in the room and pulled the curtain back. “Take another look. If you need a better quality photo, I can acquire one for you.”

Lash peered at Raphael suspiciously. He was acting strange. Lash glanced down at the photo again. There was something familiar about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He traced a finger over her full red lips. He couldn’t have been assigned to her in the past; he would’ve remembered someone who looked like her. “The photo is fine. So, all I have to do is keep her safe. From what?”

Raphael glanced out the dirty window and then tilted his head as if listening for something. “Let’s make this quick,” he said and marched to Lash. He placed his hand against Lash’s temples, and a vision of Naomi appeared in his mind.

“What the…is she trying to get herself killed?” Lash yelled.

Rafael withdrew his hand and headed toward the door.

“You can’t just show me that and run,” Lash said.

“I shouldn’t have shown you that at all.” Raphael’s face lined with worry as he walked out.

Lash ran into the hallway. “Wait! Will Michael at least let me have all my powers back?”

Raphael continued to walk, his image fading with each step he took. “No. You must do this on your own.” With those final words, he vanished.