Tom woke early enough for the golden light of dawn to stream through the crack in the drawn curtains. He stretched and settled into the bedsheets, until he remembered the panic of Ezra returning late last night.

He turned on the bedside lamp, peering down at the demon who was thankfully fast asleep. His bruises had worsened. One eye was puffy and purple, bruising deeply under the socket. The cheek was a mixture of green and pink, bruising too. His nose had a deep cut across the bridge that had thankfully stopped bleeding.

A large cut on his forehead was sutured together, but there was bloody seeping through the bandage that he and Neasa had wrapped around his head. Tom carefully tended to it, holding Ezra's neck and unwrapping and rewrapping.

Ezra stirred a little, which was a good sign. Though he didn't fully wake, and soon was breathing deeply again.

Tom stared worryingly at his bruised ribs. Those were horrifying bruises, deep purple, stretching all across his chest. Some in splotches, some in thick lines with no skin colour in between. Tom could only imagine the pain and wondered what had happened.

Who had Ezra visited? Why had they hurt him so badly? Had Ezra lost his temper, or did he have a dark past, full of bad people?

He sat patiently on his bed, staring down at him until the tiredness kicked in, though he couldn't sleep again. Instead, he got up and joined his family in the kitchen. Neasa was filling their parents in on what had happened last night.

"How is he?" Declan asked while Moira hurried to make him coffee.

"Sleeping. Before you ask, I have no idea what happened. He couldn't say much last night." Tom sipped at his coffee, wondering if he looked as tired as he felt.

"Where did he go?" Moira asked.

Tom sighed, wondering how much he should tell his parents. He wasn't accustomed to keeping secrets from them. They didn't gossip about his life, but there was still a protective silence within him, wondering if they would be safer if they knew nothing.

"He went to investigate something. I don't know why he came back beaten half to death." Tom ran a hand through his hair, blowing his coffee, so he could drink deeply without burning his mouth.

"Investigate what?" Moira asked.

"I'll tell you when-"

"The angels?" Neasa interrupted.

"Why would he investigate the angels?" Declan asked.

"Haven't you heard the rumours?" Neasa said, frowning. "Everyone in the village is talking about their dreams. Some have said that maybe the angels have something to do with it."

"Their singing," Moira said. "I've heard a similar rumour.

Something churned Tom's stomach. The gossip was working, but if the angels knew they were the heart of it, would they be punished? And if the angels were responsible, would they be harsh?

"I'm gonna go lie down," he mumbled.

"Probably for the best love, you look like shit."

"Well thank you very much," he said sarcastically, smiling at her on his way back to Ezra.

Before getting back into bed, he opened the curtains, wanting to let some light and fresh air into the stuffy space. As he did so, he noticed an angel staring patiently up at the house. She smiled when she saw him, and tapped her wrist, the way they did when they were waiting for a soul stripper.

She had long curly black hair, dark skin and even darker brown eyes. The sun streamed through the trees behind her, casting an angelic scene that made Tom want to paint it, to capture it in a photo, to sit on his windowsill and lock it in his memories.

Tom opened his window, feeling the crisp morning air on his skin, and the smell of damp countryside. "He's not well enough," he yelled, watching the angel cock her head to the side with an odd frown.

"What do you mean?" she replied.

"He's too injured." Tom looked back at Ezra, still resting. The thought of waking him made him cringe.

"Injured? Why?"

"He was beaten badly. He can't come with you."

"Forgive me Thomas, but may I see for myself?" she asked gently, in hopes of getting an invite into his home.

"Sure," Tom said, blinking and staring suddenly at the patch of grass where she was standing only moments ago. He turned to face the inside of his room, knowing she would be there, and still flinching.

The angel was too preoccupied on Ezra. She looked horrified and approached him as though he was a glass glued back together, and the glue had not yet set. "Oh my," she breathed in shock. "What happened?"

"I don't know. He came back like that last night. But I hope you agree that he is too unwell to do his soul stripper duties." Tom pursed his lips, pleading for her to not be harsh and let him rest.

The angel sat next to the demon on the bed and rested a dainty hand to his forehead. She made no sound, and barely made an indent in the mattress. "He is far too unwell," she said quietly, and Tom released his breath. "I will find someone else until he is better."

Instead of leaving, she stayed and stared at Ezra. Her expression frosted with sorrow, and Tom asked, "Is there anything else you need?" Her angelic aura had subsided all his anxiety, so he sat on his desk chair, twiddling his thumbs, enjoying her calming presence.

"Forgive me if this is too personal, but are you and Ez-" she glanced at him suddenly.

"I know his full name, but I call him Ezra," Tom said with a smile.

"I didn't want to say it in case you didn't know." Her brown gaze returned to the sleeping demon. "Are you and Ezra together?"

Tom knew what she meant by together, despite it having many meanings. "Yes," he said. "We are together."

The angel smiled, understanding. "Good," she whispered, which surprised Tom. "It is not easy to look past the hate. I know from experience that this is far from easy- to love a demon."

Tom leaned a little closer. "From experience?"

"I have been in love for a long time, but I cannot see an easy road ahead. You and Ezra . . . I have watched you both blossom in each other's company. I feel both jealous and inspired."

"Do you love a demon too?" Tom asked quietly. Hearing an angel speak fondly about their relationship was something he didn't know he wanted to hear. It was an acceptance from someone he respected, someone he didn't know he respected. Angels had that feeling about them, which he had always found a little pretentious.

She nodded. "I've known Ezra before he was condemned. I still see that angel within him, even now. I have summoned him on many soul stripper duties. I see a piece of him go with the souls he has to take, especially the ones who are undeserving. But yet, he still finds it in his heart to be kind." She shook her head sadly. "Othrowan . . . he . . . " her words trailed off. "I'm so glad Ezra is getting his justice."

"Did you know that he was innocent too?" Tom asked, trying not to sound too judging.

"I did. We were all sworn to secrecy, convincing ourselves that it was better for the overall peace of the village."

"How could you?" Tom whispered.

Her dark brown eyes rose to meet his. They were glossed with tears and pained with regret. "I ask myself that often, Thomas. I have no answer, and that is what scares me. Angels are shaped to be the definition of perfection. No living thing is truly perfect, and that is what makes us who we are. We learn from what we are not, and what we should not be. I know I have done wrong in my life, but I'm an angel. How must I forgive myself?"

"Admitting your mistake is a start," Tom said, dropping his gaze, struggling to see an angel so sad.

"Yes." She smiles, managing to blink away her tears begore they fall. "You know Thomas, your bravery is dangerously motivating."

"Why?"

"Because you make me want to chase my hearts desires. My demon and I . . . we knew each other before the violence got so bad. It was hard then, and it would be impossible now. Especially with-" She clamped her mouth shut, widening her eyes as though she was about to say something she shouldn't. "I must go and collect another soul stripper." She stood abruptly, and so did Tom.

"What were you about to say?" he asked, touching her arm.

The angel gently removed his hand. "It has been a pleasure talking to you. I won't take up anymore of your time."

She disappeared.

Tom blinked rapidly as his brain registered that she was no longer there. He slowly sat back down, frowning to himself. What had she wanted to say? She was clearly riddled with guilt, but was it only what had happened to Ezrakhell all those years ago?

Tom wasn't so sure. Though he knew that she would be a good person to interrogate when Ezra was healthy again, and ready to continue their investigation into the rise of violence. But for now, all he could do was sit and helplessly wait. He didn't know much about Ezra's long past, and this proved it.