Now everything is like my heart,

a color at the edge of blood:

the grey of your absence, the color of poison, of thorns,

the gold when we meet, the season ablaze,

the yellow of autumn, the red of flowers, of flames,

and the black when you cover the earth

with the coal of dead fires.

And the sky, the road, the glass of wine?

The sky is a shirt wet with tears,

the road a vein about to break,

and the glass of wine a mirror in which

the sky, the road, the world keep changing.

Don't leave now that you're here-

Stay. So the world may become like itself again:

so the sky may be the sky,

the road a road,

and the glass of wine not a mirror, just a glass of wine.

***

The rain had just stopped for a moment. Kye shook violently due to the cold winds blowing on her wet hair and body.

Michael frowned at the sight he had just caught out of the corner of his eye. He checked his watch and turned to whisper something to one member of his entourage. The man nodded and walked to the car.

He came back with an oatmeal-colored blanket and threw it on top of Kye. She startled but quickly covered herself with the fabric. It was barely warm enough but at least better than before.

The sound of several car engines through the soft pitter-patters caught the group's attention. The first car that stopped was a moss-green jeep. Two guys jumped out of it; one held a black lockbox. Michael walked to where Kye was. He stopped for a moment before grabbing her by the elbows and pulling her up.

Kye couldn't help but imagine the feeling of his bare hands under those leather gloves. They were always cool, cold even, but warmed up the moment they touched her skin. They were strong, clean, and filled with angelic grace that made her skin prickled. When their eyes met fully for the first time, Kye could see it—a mixture of emotions that she couldn't quite read. They were gone before she could be certain, and there stood Michael the archangel again, completely inexpressive.

"Michael..." Kye mumbled while searching for something that was not there anymore.

Maybe it never was, but she held on to the hope that somewhere inside, somehow, Michael was not as indifferent as he portrayed. Maybe he was just as shaken.

Michael still held her elbows, a little longer than necessary. His face was inches away from her. Kye could see his long eyelashes flutter, shadowing his stormy blue eyes. His lips slightly curved at the corners, beckoning; and his scent—something so fresh and clean like the air after the rain, under a mixture of mint and cedar—is so familiar and intoxicating that she couldn't help but lean toward him a little.

Michael tilted his head and gazed at her the same way he usually did when something puzzled or intrigued him. Kye always found these gestures lovely, especially when they were accompanied by hundreds of random questions that somehow managed to escape the archangel's knowledge and, many times, hers as well.

Right now, it only sent chills down her spine. Kye could see nothing, no warmth, passion, or curiosity. Nothing but a silent threat. You will do as I say and stay quiet, or else. He looked at her the way a superior being would look at an inferior one—an insect—to study it before deciding if it should be squished.

The way angels looked at humans.

Before Kye could say anything else, Michael put two fingers on her forehead. A zap of energy shot through her skin, and everything went dark.

***

"Alright, form a line." The tall and slender man in a neat black suit glowered over a group of five young girls.

The girls tried their best to contain their excitement and nervousness but hardly succeeded. Pitiful things, the man thought. They were barely out of their teenage. Some would be discarded after one or two months if the master grew tired of them. Maybe even less. Something bad always happened. It always did.

"A domesticated companion," he spoke slowly, "Is a toy and a servant combined. Most will work as housemaids and errand runners, hardly noticed or remembered. Those are the lucky ones." He stopped to watch their reactions before continuing. "Their daily duties are simple, and at the end of each month, they will receive their salary. No problems. Those who want more rewards, naturally, will have to take a little more risk."

The girls took a collective sharp breath. Good.

"Sometimes, Master would show interest in a specific domesticated companion or a few. Do not question his will. If someone is called more often, congratulations, you will receive a higher pay grade with additional perks such as private rides and protection; God knows we need it, generous daily allowances, nice clothes, and good food. Sometimes, even servants of their own."

Three girls opened their mouths widely and forgot to close them, it seemed. The man mentally shook his head.

"However, in the world that we live in, comfort is expensive and often paid with blood. Yours. So remember that verbal...disciplines are a norm and superficial injuries are expected. With angelic grace, though, anything could be fixed, so nothing was worth the concern."

Angels, with their eternal existence, sometimes suffer from extreme boredom or doubts. They were taught to never lose faith and always obey orders, but when they were stationed on Earth and God had been absent for a while, even the most obedient angels started to lose themselves. They became unpredictable, either became more human-like in the way they thought and acted, or became completely unhinged. Their lack of empathy and Heavenly powers were a deadly combination. There were cases of dead or missing servants and domesticated companions, some badly damaged or burnt-out bodies found here and there, but there was not much the police could do. Their hands were tight with the laws made by the Council as if angels needed laws to protect them.

Some people would immediately regret their decision after signing up, but once a boy or a girl put his or her signature and fingerprints on the contract, that was it. There was no going back. The money was deposited into the person's account immediately, and it was nonreversible. What people decided to do with it was up to them. The angels looked down entirely on the concept of money. They could never fully understand humans' desperation for those dirty, worthless pieces of paper or numbers in the bank account. And don't even think about running away. After all, where would you run? The city was surrounded by a thousand-foot-tall wall that looked deceptively beautiful. It was made of a material that looked like glass on a white steel frame, shiny in the sun but heavily guarded by both human soldiers and angels, equipped with hundreds of automatic guns and cameras with a built-in facial recognition program. It was also a massive shocking device at 2300 Voltage, 15 amps that would kill in contact when other security measures failed. Everyone would need permission to get in and out of the city. Outside the wall were miles and miles of nothing but ruins of the old world before the War.

Kye looked up at Mr. Bailey, the staff manager, with her tired face. She didn't sleep a wink last night, partly because of the new job which she didn't know what to expect, and partly because of Ruby's disappearance a few days ago. She worried about the girl and her whereabouts, her mom's health, and her brother's tantrum after discovering that Ruby was gone. Bailey gave Kye an intimidating look that made her eyes drop to the floor immediately.

"Settle down," Bailey said to the girls. "I know today is your first day, but don't think I would be lenient to any of you. Mistakes are not tolerated. The loft doesn't require a lot of attendants, so you would be rotated for the time being until I receive further instructions." He cleared his throat. "That's it for now. You will receive your uniforms and name tags in a moment." He concluded the speech and dismissed them with a wave of his hands.

The rotation schedule was made based on the alphabetical order of their last name initials. Kye's last name was Adlin, so she was the first to work. She had received the document on what she needed to know about the angel she would serve. Besides who he was, his schedule for the day, and some basic requirements, there was nothing else. Based on his schedule, her job should be an easy one. She would be on her own until the angel came back at 6 p.m. He wouldn't need to eat so there was no cooking required. She would wait to be called on if needed. Otherwise, she would make herself invisible and stay clear of the second level.

It took her half of the morning to clean the whole main area, first and second levels. It was spacious and clean---voided of any furniture besides a big white couch and a white, round marble coffee table in front of the fireplace. There were no decorations whatsoever. Everything was white, perhaps to resemble Heaven. Even the doors, kitchen appliances and staircase were no exceptions. Kye felt as if she was floating in the middle of nothing. The whole place felt ethereal but empty and cold. All rooms were locked besides the servant's one on the lower level.

After finishing her tasks, Kye took a break here, knowing the archangel wouldn't be back anytime soon. Still, she kept the room door open just in case. She was supposed to greet him every time he came in and say goodbye when he left. Bothersome, but not hard to do.

Despite her best efforts, however, her eyes started to get heavy after a while. Kye fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, missing the rustles of wings and clothes in the living room.

***

Michael wrapped the girl a little more tightly in the blanket and lifted her as gently as he could. He carried her toward the men standing on the opposite side. As if on cue, two of them came forward with the lockbox. One gave it to one of Michael's men while his partner removed Kye from his arms and took her to their Jeep.

It took everything in Michael not to follow the guy and smite him. He knew he could demand her back, but the trade needed to happen. The angel part in Michael—the part of duty and responsibility, logic and practicality—made sure that he followed through and forbade him to show any weakness, but it was hard. Oh, it was hard to find someone he wanted to give everything to, part of himself included, just to get this in return.

Besides God, none of Michael's siblings had received the same commitment. Michael committed to the Host of Heaven as a whole and to his duties because he must, but he didn't commit to any individual angel. The act of grace sharing was rare and strongly discouraged on top of that. It was for a valid reason. Grace sharing was the ultimate act of bonding and sacrifice that would last for eternity. Kye had known the weight of all that and still betrayed him. It would be a lie to say Michael was not angry and disappointed. But mostly, he was hurt. The old him would've smitten Kye the moment he discovered what she did, but one look in her eyes, and his armor crumbled.

That was why Michael had refused to see Kye and hear her plead. Everyone must take responsibility for their actions. Kye included, and so did him.

***

"No, no, it's not your turn." Kye took the dice from Michael's hand and threw them on the game board.

"Why not?"

"Because you rolled doubles to get out of jail, you don't get to take this turn."

"You took a turn right after getting out of jail last time. What is the difference?"

"I took the free card. Remember?"

Michael squeezed his eyes and tilted his head.

"This game is confusing, to say the least. Who made the rules? Why do humans like it so much?"

"You'll get a hang of it in no time. In real life, not everyone has the money and power to invest, buy, and sell properties, so we like to pretend sometimes. It is fun." She collected all the pieces and put them in the box. "Lunchtime is almost over. Don't you have a meeting with the Council this afternoon, Master?"

Michael was still deep in thought, staring at the little man with a white mustache and top hat on the game box. Kye chuckled at the sight and went around the table to put her hand on his shoulder. Michael looked up at her.

"Did you have lunch?" he asked.

"I will in a moment, Master."

"You can go ahead. I will get ready for the meeting."

Kye smiled at him and turned away, but before she could stand up, Michael pulled her back toward him. His hand slid down from her wrist, their palms met, and their fingers interlocked instinctively. He gently combed his other hand through her hair, from behind her ear to the side of her neck, then pulled her face closer.

The kiss was unexpected, gentle, and deep. He didn't close his eyes but kept them slightly open to take in the sight of her up close, the soft brown curls that framed her face, the light freckles on her cheeks and nose tip, the dark eyelashes fluttered, and the faint dimples when she smiled on his lips. Even when Michael slowly pulled away, his eyes lingered on her. Kye looked like a child waking up from a happy dream, and the sight put a smile on his face. Eventually, he let go of her and stood up.

"I'll see you later."

He said before turning away and walking upstairs. Kye's eyes followed him until he disappeared behind the office's double door. Her heart was full, and her mind was in a haze.

***

Michael leaned back in his chair and looked up at the large mural of Heaven and Earth on the ceiling. The colors were vibrant, and the details were perfect, but of course, it was just how humans imagined everything.

God was in the middle, glorified by his golden halo and surrounded by the angels. Under them was Earth with all of its inhabitants. Michael could see the depiction of himself and his siblings facing God in absolute adoration while their Father and Creator looked downward to Earth and extended his hands to the creatures below.

If His will was for the angels to love all of his creations equally and selflessly, why was it so hard? At first, Michael could not understand why Father would want him to love these new, naked, and primitive creatures more than himself and the angels, more than God even, but being a good son, he tried. But now... The feelings he experienced spread like wildfire. For an individual. How could he ever love everything equally? Michael didn't have the answer, and he doubted that anyone did.

They were all in the dark together, angels and humans alike.

Michael nursed a cup of Scotch in his hand. An act of imitation. Angels didn't eat or drink, but he felt the need to do so in times like this. Even when this was just a temporary situation, Michael couldn't help but feel the void in his heart. He had been in the office since he got back from the exchange. The alcohol didn't give him any desired effects.

Michael knew the bottles he had in the office were droplets compared to what he needed to really get drunk, but the easy warmth and bitterness on his tongue gave a bit of comfort.

The vessel that he currently possessed was one of a few that had been brought to him right before they announced the War was officially over. The angels went through vessels like water during this time. Michael, even more so.

Although humans didn't really know what ticked and weren't equipped with the right weapons, they managed to cause some casualties. If an angel was wounded enough during a battle, they would simply ditch their vessels and move on to a new one. The vessel might not be perfect, but it wasn't needed for long anyway.

Normally, to enter a human body, an angel would need permission from its owner—the soul or subconsciousness that occupied that body—according to Heaven Laws, but the War had created a lot of dead bodies. The angels were quick to take advantage of that.

Michael's last vessel had been badly damaged to the point of being unusable. Some new ones had been selected from designated bloodlines all over the world and strengthened to contain his grace. They were supposed to be his permanent or semi-permanent shells until he returned to Heaven. Every garrison would take turns to patrol the planet for two centuries. As their leader, Michael would stay twice as long.

Wearing a vessel was different. Touch, sight, smell, hearing, and taste were overwhelming when first activated. Angels operated on a different frequency and level of consciousness so, naturally, physical perceptions weren't the same as humans.

It was like a sound or light traveling through the atmosphere without restrictions. Michael needed to tune out so many irrelevant statics and noises that the universe fed him. He knew that physical senses were necessary---and frankly, unavoidable in a physical world, but they were also vices and doorways to sins.

Michael determined to keep himself above all that. It was not so hard, either. Michael's world was black and white. His soul was a frozen lake, clear and reflective, as well as extremely cold and rigid. It had been for eons and would continue to stay that way until someone threw a stone in, and the ice broke….

Michael opened the box in front of him with one touch and gently traced his fingers on the item inside. The baton-like object was made of the same material as the box—red mahogany. Enochian symbols that covered the length of its body lit up under the archangel's touch. He picked up the item, and the whole thing pulsated, reacting to the source of its power. The item then expanded on both ends until it quadrupled in length. A shiny celestial steel blade took shape out of thin air, calling for Michael.

Note: The poem at the beginning of the chapter is Before You Came from The Rebel's Silhouette by Faiz Ahmed Faiz (1911 – 1984), translated by Agha Shahid Ali.