Flash Fiction No. 87

Zealots

Charcoal bags. She flushed her face with ice cold water but they didn’t shift away. Not make up, then; just lack of sleep.

Silver gleamed in sawn-off light. She sluiced the blade in the icy torrent, destroying the evidence beneath the tap. The water ran red before paling as it circled the plug hole. It was important to keep your instruments clean.

Towel on metal rubbed away the damp markers until water stains were non-existent. A slip and her thumb wept crimson, lips surrounding the wound to stem the flow. She put the weapon away. Carefully concealed, it was more useful than any other ally.

She wiped her brow, staring hard into the mirror as she sucked the juice from her wound. Would it be so hard to save him? She glanced down into the basin, tears of diluted life essence creeping across the porcelain. Nobody would expect her to save him.

She pursed her lips. It would be so hard to admit that she had any feelings. They would realise immediately that her judgement had been clouded by something impure. Impurity was the biggest of their fears. A killer who was impure meant that the task could be through delight instead of a neutral need to extinguish sin.

And sinning meant decomposition of the soul. They couldn’t have a soulless killer.

The corner of her mouth twitched in an irksome manner. Their values were all twisted and contorted but they couldn’t see that. They thought they were helping.

And he had been helping her on the sly. He’d told her secrets and tricks, making her the best demon killer and angel pacifier they had. A human with a knack for destroying immortals. She could vanquish the dark and tear the wings off sinners. It was all they wanted from her.

She put her head in her hands, considering the angel blood that had washed so easily down the drain. They’d taken him and she wasn’t supposed to care. He had sinned by allowing himself to have feelings for a mortal. Angels were forbidden to have feelings for mortals.

It was some rule written down and upheld though it had been too long since they had heard or seen their ‘higher power’. Cast adrift. That was what they were. And in that state they had simply upheld rules, attacking those who broke them with increasing zeal. It was a religion that had gone to their heads.

Feelings. Since when were they so wrong?

She swallowed. They would cut his wings and make him mortal too. Someone like her, someone with no remorse and no compassion, would be charged with the task. The blade would sever his connection to holiness and everlasting light, casting him out. Feathers would cloud the skies and he would fall to Earth in human shame.

But that wasn’t all. No. They would make sure he could not be with her. They would send him to a time millennia before or after her life, separating them forever.