1 Fallen [Part 1]

Two silhouettes landed on top of a steel-framed, tubular skyscraper that towered over an intricate network of congested crossroads, a botanic garden the size of two standard football pitches and hectic streets loaded with urban restaurants, high-fashion boutiques and a few shorter luxury modern residential buildings. Their shadows flitted past the ginormous concave-shaped windows, appearing as a thin flash of blacklight.

An old man was sitting in a wheelchair by the window on the thirteenth floor and as the light flickered overhead, he frowned, further twisting his already wrinkly, senile face, and muttered something unintelligible to the stout maid preparing brunch in the open kitchen. A five-year-old girl role-playing with her Barbie doll peeked up from her extravagant, well-furnished glittering doll house full of silky curtains, lace bedsheets and crystal decors, stood up from her nursery mats and scrambled to press her face against the window before yelling excitedly for her mother to catch the raven. A debauched eighteen-year-old was lying naked on his bed, with one arm draped around his girlfriend and his other hand holding a bong, taking a long puff of the high-class exotic weeds he had just imported from Europe. He glimpsed the dark flash and gestured for his girlfriend to lower the blinds.

On the rooftop where the autumn wind ravaged the untended tulip pots and unfenced vegetable patches on a daily basis, the two boys stood side by side in their white lace dress shirts and black tuxedos. For a fleeting moment, their black wings unfurled to the fullest before shrinking abruptly and vanishing into their backs, rendering a few of their detached velvety feathers floating along with the breeze in the air. The first boy had an androgynous face, with captivatingly long, thick eyelashes shaded by his lash-skimming fringe and sparkly porcelain skin, his dark choppy mid-length hair as feathery as his own wings – an epitome of dark grace and splendour. The black stud glistened on his right ear and behind it was a tiny mark in the shape of a scythe.

The second boy had a pale face, immaculate skin that was almost translucent in the light and his wavy, silky bangs were swept slightly to the right. He had the same mark engraved behind his right ear. Their eyes, black to their brims and hollow, were miniature abysses where light could penetrate but was never reflected. They stared down at the street below, where a lanky boy in his late teens was strolling with his best friend. He had pale blond hair just as smooth as the vanilla cone his friend was holding, wearing a faded purple sweater and grey gloves, a white wool scarf tightly wrapped around his neck. His best friend was apparently more resistant to the cold, barely wearing a white hoodie and savouring every lick of his dripping ice-cream.

'Jónar Anderson, male, eighteen, soul number 801839,' said the dark-haired boy, reading from an invisible list on his palm. 'Márus Jensen, male, nineteen, soul number 580391. Found them.'

He pointed at the two youngsters sauntering down a street full of branded stores and open cafes shadowed by a few oaks and encircled by high-rise office towers and deluxe malls. Some meters away there was a busy intersection with two flicking traffic lights opposite each other, a hectic labyrinth of accelerating vehicles, speeding bikes and scurrying pedestrians.

'In five minutes and twenty seconds, a truck with a malfunctioning brake will come dashing down and strike Jónar. Márus, in an attempt to shield him, will be dragged into the wheels and both will perish on the spot.'

The white-haired boy furrowed his brows, his eyes following the chatting duo with grins so wide as if they had just won another lottery, or got a free ticket to a weekend buffet, or received a rare praise from the sour-faced, irascible Literature teacher. Their oblivion and glee were almost painful to see. For the first time in the countless missions he had taken, and since his existence, he wanted to plummet down the building right away and fly past the two teens, dart in front of the catastrophic truck and block it with full might. Such an incorrigible thought had infiltrated his mind for quite a while and he couldn't help trembling and biting his bottom lip until a gentle pat fell on his shoulder and he tried to shake that sinful idea away.

'E, are you alright?' asked his companion.

'We have to stop it, S,' said E, calm and unwavering. S's face remained apathetic, and even if E's speech did disconcert him for a second, he was incapable of displaying any expressions. They had been moulded, tuned and restrained the moment they were created in this world. Emotions are sins, or so they have been told.

'You can't do that,' said S as-a-matter-of-factly, inwardly counting the seconds till the predesignated accident would occur. The blackness in E's eyes started to diminish and fade, no longer filling the entire orbs, something S began to dread. He squinted and grasped E's shoulders, almost shaking him.

'Did something happen?' asked S, leaning close to his partner. E took a defensive step backwards and averted his gaze. His lips quivered, struggling to pour out an utterance. His heart began to thump at an incredible speed, one so foreign and unbearable. His face began to contort the moment S lifted his chin and forced him to lock eyes with him. The pupils in his eyes slowly formed their shapes and much to S's astonishment, his milky face was gradually adorned by a faint shade of crimson.

'Answer me!'

'I don't know what's gotten into me...' stammered E, his cheeks burning and his hands trembling in S's powerful clasp, one that could readily fracture a mortal's bones. The close proximity between them ignited something fiery in him. His heart was smashing against his chest and his wings were hankering to leap out of his backs at any second, carrying him off this oppressive building. 'How long have we been doing this? A millennium? Two?'

'I'm not sure,' said S. 'And why do you ask?'

The air got cold and it began to sleet. S held E close and sniffed him. There was a fragrance, so tantalising it made one think of a room full of scarlet petals, with a small table full of luscious aged wine and a bed where two tangled bodies kept wiggling, sweating, battling each other while producing vulgar moans and wanton cries. The smell was rejuvenating like a blooming lavender farm in summer. It was something that never belonged to E in the first place – something unfamiliar and forbidden.

'You met a demon?' asked S finally. Nobody else had such competence to taint them, not to such a great extent.

'I'm not doing this job anymore,' insisted E. 'I can't...We have to stop the truck.'

'You're feeling for the humans,' said S with a hint of asperity and tilted his head. 'You can't defy the protocol.'

'Every day, we collect souls. We watch them die without putting up a struggle. And even if they do struggle, we trample their last hope and separate them from their loved ones. We take them away from this world by force. I'm fed up with this job.'

'You're tainted,' concluded S, letting go of E's hands. He stood at the edge of the roof and tracked down the two boys. Jónar, as if sensing his distant glance, shivered uncontrollably and whirled around, scanning buildings after buildings before fixating his eyes on the top of the skyscraper, where S's shadow had disappeared a second ago.

'Is something wrong?' asked Márus, stopping alongside his best friend. He had finished his cone and they were steps away from the intersection.

'Nah, thought I saw something there,' muttered Jónar. He shrugged and resumed walking, tugging his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

'Please S,' begged E, close to his tears, 'exterminate me now, before I fall into Hell.'

'We have to get going,' said S, turning to face E, who was still cowering near the edge on the other side, shaking his head. He tried to recall what that demon looked like – his frizzy raven hair, luscious black eyes, lips that stretched from ear to ear and horns so sharp they could pierce any flesh. He had an alluring hoarse voice, one so deep and patient it chilled him. And his touch was something else – oh, how E missed those tender claws fondling his cheeks, brushing across his sensitive skin like soft needles and pins, and loading him with peculiar pleasures that wine offers to men, a shopping spree offers to women and a bag of sweets to children. He remembered flinching and pleading, but his begs fell on deaf ears. The beast kept whispering to him with promises of euphoria beyond Heaven, caressing his entire body and injecting him with feelings and emotions he had never once experienced, all so thrilling and enrapturing. He learnt to spread his lips, sob, scream, groan and more. When he saw S's bewitching face, he couldn't help smiling and yearning to grab those cheeks, bringing his lips close to his. He spent nights trying to suppress that thought but the demon's voice reverberated in his ears, evoking a series of clutches and tingles in his chest.

'I'm not going,' cried E. 'I told you I can't do it.'

'Then stay,' said S coldly, flapping his wings and diving down the building at full speed. He flew past Jónar and Márus, a second before a throng screeched at the sight of a speeding panel truck that kept honking. Jónar had stepped onto the road, a meter away from the vehicle and a sudden gale, so strong and swift, blew past him and Márus. The truck came to an abrupt halt after being smashed by an invincible force, somewhat like a gigantic palm, in the front. A large dent formed on its surface and the tyres almost sank into the ground. A moment of petrifying silence reigned the street. Jónar had tripped and fallen on his bottom. Márus, standing right beside his speechless companion, blinked with his mouth agape. A black feather was left swirling in the air.

E leaned against the white fence of the rooftop, hardly believing his eyes as he witnessed the whole scene. S had teleported to his side almost instantly, his face still devoid of any expressions.

'Why would you do that?' asked E. 'You would...you would get penalised.'

'I know.'

'Then why?'

S sighed and cornered E, stroking his babyish soft cheek with his cold, slender fingers before breaking into a dismayed smile.

'Because you're not the only one fallen.'