Israfel's Fall

Pagen Sullivan looked down at the individual who had so suddenly come to be in her charge. She had managed to get him out of the remainder of his wet clothing, no mean feat considering he was deadweight and into the too short sweatpants and shirt. He was a lot heavier than he looked at first glance. Her grandmother brought her cold washcloths then sat down in the chair next to the bed.



“I think he’s totally out,” Pagen said, taking one of the cloths and carefully cleaning away the blood from the cut. She bandaged the wound. Then she put one of the cloths across his forehead.



“Seems to be. He’s almost as pretty as Luc. Not quite as blinding though. Are you sure he’s a boy?”



“Yes, Gran. I can safely say that he’s a he. Few things in the known universe are as pretty as Luc. And he knows it,” she said, smiling. Then frowning as she looked over the black and purple bruises that littered that beautiful face and neck. “Looks like someone really worked him over.”



“No kidding. Think we should find Luc? Or at least Gabby or Mike since they’re his kind,” the older woman said, nodding to the person on the bed.



“I don’t think we need to just yet. Maybe later though. I’m not exactly sure who he is or what to do with him after he’s well.”



“You do seem to attract the strangest people. First Luc. Then Gabby and Mike and now this one.”



“Yeah, well. When I woke up this morning with the song “Send Me An Angel” stuck in my head, I didn’t think the Universe actually would.”



The older woman laughed. “You’ve done that since you were little. Woke up with a song in your head and something to do with the lines of the song actually happened that day.”



“That’s true.”



They sat in silence as Pagen placed one of the washcloths on his neck as well.



“Those are some wicked looking scars on his back,” Gran said after a few minutes.



“Yes, they are. It looks like he had his wings ripped off. I can’t begin to imagine how much that must have hurt, considering their wings attach to the full length of their backs. Poor baby.”



“Something strange is going on here, Page,” Gran said thoughtfully.



“What makes you say that?”



“Gods, witches and fallen angels don’t usually congregate in small towns in southern Illinois. At least not since I’ve been alive.”



“So, what do you think?”



“I don’t know yet. But this one here,” she said nodding to the unconscious form on the bed, “Is obviously not part of their ranks. At least not anymore. But I do sense power in him that matches Gabby and Mike at least.”



Pagen nodded. “Yes. I feel that in him too. He managed to keep up a decent glamoury even when he’s so ill. It was strong enough to have almost fooled me. That takes some real power.”



“Mmmhmm. Because you can usually peg one of them at thirty paces. Think the missing wings are the problem?”



“No. The scars are old. I think it’s a combination of exhaustion, cold and blood loss that put him where he is. Which begs the question: What happened to cause him to be out and running for so long? You know as well as I do the kind of physical damage one of them can take. It’s just really odd though. Most of them don’t have physical bodies. Only Gabby and Mike from what I’ve seen. And even they can let the physical form drop.”



“Mmmhmm. Luc doesn’t count since technically he’s a god.”



“That’s true,” Pagen said, standing up and stretching. “I’ll go see if I can find something in the kitchen that we might be able to put into him.”



“Divine knows he looks like he could use some food.”



“Indeed.”