Withering Souls Chapter Two

I grunted with effort as I wrung out the dripping wet dress and hung it on the wire that was strung on the two poles that functioned as our clothes line. Mother and Olivia (my younger sister) had gone to the market in Forks to buy livestock and had left me in charge of the mill and apothecary. Work had piled up and without the help of my mother and sister; it was difficult to get it all done. At least the work kept my mind off of the events from the day before.

Lucifer and Raphael had disappeared and I still remembered everything. At first I just stood there; unable to move. The cold bite of the evening breeze had shocked me back into my senses and I had sprinted home. Mother scolded me and I went to bed with a bleary mind and empty stomach.

I pushed a lock of my raven hair behind my ear and strung the next dress on the line. I straightened and sighed with relief as my hunched back cracked into place.

"Angela!" I turned to the sound of my name and saw a boy named Peter from the village running towards me. His brown hair was tangled and his face red as he gasped for breath. I wiped my raw hands on my apron and stepped forward towards him with a smile.

"Hello, Peter. What can I do for you?" I asked.

Peter looked around in frenzy, as if searching for something, "Is Dr. Blanch in?"

I shook my head, "I'm afraid not. Mother has gone to Forks with Olivia. What's wrong?"

Peter's eyes were wide with panic, "There is a man at my parents' tavern and he's bleeding really badly! He won't let anyone take of his tunic to see what's wrong. He says he'll only let the doctor see. You have to come and help!" Peter grabbed my arm and began tugging on it.

I nodded, "Just a second," I threw my apron into the basket that held the wet laundry and unrolled my damp sleeves. I grabbed the basket and raced into the house and returned with a smaller basket that held countless slaves, bandages, herbs, needles and thread. "Let's go."

Peter and I raced deeper into the village. Soon, the tavern could be seen. It was a quaint two story house with a thatched roof and a wooden sign above its door that read 'tavern' in curly writing. Peter pushed open the door and we rushed in. Peter's mother sat anxiously at a table and stood up with relief when we entered. She was a small, round woman with friendly eyes and golden hair.

"What are you doing here? Where is your mother?" she asked when she laid eyes on me. She looked bewildered and began wringing her apron restlessly. I laid my hands on top of hers and smiled gently.

"My mother is at Forks, I will tend to your guest if you like." I said. She nodded stiffly and motioned for me to follow her.

Peter began to follow as well but his mother pushed him back, "Oh no, you don't! Back into the kitchen with you, mister! Those dishes won't wash themselves!"

Peter clung to my skirts and whined openly, "But Ma! I want to see the wounded guest again!" His mother pressed her fists onto her ample hips and glared at her son until Peter let go of my skirts and shuffled towards the kitchen with his head hung.  

His mother once again began heading up the stairs with a huff. She led me to the farthest room to the right and knocked lightly on the door. Peter's father, a middle aged man with a mousy appearance opened the door and looked at me then at his wife but, did not ask any questions.

"He won't let us see the wound," he said to me. "Hopefully, he will let you." He stepped back and I stepped into the room.

My jaw dropped and my eyes widened. He sat on the bed clutching his right arm, which was drenched with blood. His wings were gone but, his hair and eyes were still silver. He wore a silver tunic and his hair was pulled back with a piece of leather. Raphael smiled pleasantly at me bowed his head dismissingly at the tavern owners who stepped back and shut the door with a soft thud.

The sound caused me to snap out of my stupor and I fumbled with words, "What are you….that is to say….are you….erm…is the….I mean…uh…."

Raphael chuckled softly, "I am glad I was able to locate you Miss Angela. As you see, I am wounded and require a bit of attention." His lovely face crunched into a frown and he began unbuttoning his tunic. A flash of heat rose in my face and I set the basket down on the ground next to the bed. I was not exactly accustomed to looking at the bare bodies of men. My mother kept my sister and me away from the apothecary and tried to keep from corrupting us. Raphael struggled with the buttons and hissed with frustration and pain as his arm failed him. I knelt in front of him and helped him with the buttons. He tugged off the tunic and dropped it to the ground. His white undershirt was also drenched with blood and he took that off as well.

His body was slim and rippled with hard muscles. His chest looked as if it was made of milky marble and when I touched his arm to inspect the wound, his skin was as cold as ice. His body was beautiful, unlike anything else I had ever seen before. I flushed with embarrassment at my thoughts and focused my eyes to his injury. Raphael watched me intently and I shifted uncomfortably against his steady gaze.

My eyes widened at the wound. It was large, starting at the nape of his neck and ending at his wrist. He had lost an extreme amount of blood and it looked as if numerous arteries had been sliced. No human would be able to survive such a cut. I looked up at him and he smiled pleasantly. I turned back to the cut and slowly traced it with my fingers, trying to calculate how many cloth bandages I would need.

"How did you sustain such a cut, Master Raphael?" I asked as I stood and walked over to the dresser.  There was a wide wooden bowl filled with fresh water and a thin cloth lay neatly folded next to it and next to that, a wooden jug full of water. I carried the bowl and cloth to the bed and carefully sat them on the ground. I seized his arm once more and carefully began cleaning the injury.

"Please simply refer to me as Raphael." he said with a smile.

"In that case," I said dabbing at the cut. "You must call me Angela. I am not accustomed to being addressed as 'miss'." He chuckled drily.

"Urm…who was it that hurt you…?" I pestered. I couldn't help it! I was beyond curious; in the woods yesterday Raphael had radiated power. I wondered was sort of creature could hurt him like this.

"It was my own kind that cut me," he said bitterly. "It was Michael, a lesser angel who became jealous of me. He was corrupted by a devil, Belial himself. Lucifer is one of his sons and he is intent on stopping him from becoming an angel. You see, Lucifer is not exactly evil; he is more mischievous. I was to take Lucifer to The Heaven's Gate in London and take him to heaven but, Michael kidnapped Lucifer, who is under my protection as ordered by The Creator, and bestowed a curse upon me. He made me human using the power of Belial which is much stronger than my own. The only way I can return to my former self is to regain possession of Lucifer and arrest Michael in the name of The Creator. I have also been ordered to send Belial back to hell. I have managed to salvage a bit of my power but it is hardly enough. I need my wings and my staff back. If I am unable to fetch Lucifer by the Winter Festival on December 21, then Lucifer will never become an angel and Belial will win. I came here because I need your help, Angela."

I inspected the now clean wound and reached into the basket to retrieve a small jar containing slave, "I…I cannot help you. I am only a human. All I want is my memory erased. The….memory it….it makes it hard for me to tell the difference between reality and fantasy…." As I said it, I realized how true it actually was. I had been in a daze since yesterday, and now that I thought about it, I realized that I had not eaten anything all day. I had drowned myself in work and that had forced my mind to think somewhat straight but, every time I thought of yesterday, I felt sick.

Raphael sighed, "I cannot erase your memory. Your body and mind reject my powers. It feels as if someone is keeping me from reaching into your mind."

My hand froze and the slave nearly slipped from my grasp. My head snapped up to look at him, "What? How? I wasn't doing anything I promise! I do not want to remember yesterday!"

"I know.  I believe the reason is that The Creator foresaw that I would need your help; He must be manipulating your mind. Please help me, Angela! You do not realize what would happen if Belial kept Lucifer from becoming an angel! He may not look like it, but Lucifer is very powerful. If that power fell into the hands of Belial then the world would crumble in front of your eyes. Belial will spread havoc. He will whisper lies in the ears of humans and use Lucifer's powers of persuasion to make them do his bidding. He has persuasion powers of his own but, they are not nearly as strong as Lucifer's."

I shook my head slowly and began gently spreading the slave on his wound, "I…I don't know what to do…"

Raphael watched me with an icy look on his face, "If you help me stop Belial, there is a possibility that I can erase your memory."

I stiffened as I realized what he was implying, "No, Master Raphael. I am not looking for personal gain. I am worried about my mother and my sister. They will be alone without me; they will have more work and I doubt my mother will be able to run our apothecary and maintain the mill at the same time. They need me." I swiftly finished applying the slave and withdrew the cloth bandages from the basket.

I let my face fall into emotionlessness as I stood up and reached over and around him to wrap the bandages around his neck loosely and then trailing them slowly and carefully down his arm.

"I'm sorry," said Raphael softly. "I did not mean to offend you. I apologize deeply." I ignored him and continued to wrap the bandages around his arm. He sighed softly and turned to look at the window. I tied the final knot and straightened my back.

Suddenly, Raphael had pinned me against him and was hissing quietly in my ear, "Michael is near. If you stray away from me, he will kill you. Your soul has a distinct and pure scent that attracts both devils and angels. You must stay near me."

My eyes widened and I softly whispered back, "You're not lying, are you?"

Raphael gave me a strange look, "Angels are unable to lie. Now, let's be off, shall we?" Raphael pushed me gently away from him but held my hand firmly. He passed his hand over his body and closed his eyes. A look of deep concentration passed his face. A shower of soft feathers engulfed his body. I looked in awe as the feathers attached themselves to his body and deepened their color to silver. Before long, Raphael was wearing a silver tunic.

I hardly had time to marvel when Raphael grabbed me 'round the waist and gently (but quickly) pulled me through the door. We practically flew down the stairs and as we passed Peter in the dining hall, Raphael pressed a gold coin into his hand.

"You are an honest child, aren't you, boy?" asked Raphael.

Peter was staring at the coin in amazement but he nodded slowly.

"Then I trust you will give this to your parents. Tell them it is from the wounded man." Instructed Raphael rapidly. Peter barely had time to respond with a 'thank you' before we had exited the tavern.

Raphael guided me towards the road, "I have hidden us with my powers but, I am positive that Michael will locate us."

I stared at him. His eyes were wide and his silver hair framed his face like a silky curtain. For a strange reason this sight seemed to have opened my eyes. If I did not help him, my mother and my sister would be corrupted by Belial. I wanted them to remain themselves. I wanted them to remain kind and loving and my family.

I had just opened my mouth to tell Raphael when he suddenly pulled me close to him. Huge wings of snow white curved around my body protectively.I barely noticed. My eyes remained trained to the figure before me.

He could not have been much older than me. He wore a white tunic that was only two or three shades lighter than his snowy skin. His hair was a lovely platinum blonde and his eyes were emeralds. His wings curled over his back and shuddered softly. He was beautiful, he was innocent, he was majestic, he was--

"Michael." Snarled Raphael.

Michael?!