~~Young~~

Chapter Thirteen

   “Arrange the death of one of His children, you can’t be serious. I love all of God’s children, everyone no matter how weighed. He loves them so I must- so I do,” he corrected himself.

   Gage cocked his head to the side at that little flub, seemed the angel was questioning his duties…

   A sick laughter ricocheted off the brick before Gage could take the thought any further and he spun, meaning to just leap off the roof, swoop in and save his woman-Fuck, his woman? -but instead of an arm Michael grabbed Gage’s wing, fully away that an arm would have meant Gage would have just dragged him along for the ride. But immobilizing his wing…

   “We’ve talked about this Gage, you getting involved with the lives of mortals.”

   “Funny you should mention that,” Gage turned around and swung at Michael, landing a punch in his bicep so he dropped his wing, “because you’ve warned me about interfering,” he ducked to avoid Michael’s own blow, “not getting involved,” he spun and squeezed the arm stabbing the blade at him against his side, “now I know it was you.”

   He snapped the angel’s arm with a little more pressure, and then spun for Sera once more as Michael recoiled in pain.

   Not enough pain apparently because the next thing Gage knew he tasted brick when Michael pulled a foot out from under him. He spat out a tooth-that was already growing back in before he could lift his head- and kicked the bastard in his own grill as he tried to right himself. Rubber did have its benefits to the leather soles the angel wore, because Gage’s shoe grabbed at Michael’s skin where his would have simply slid off of his face. Fucker was missing a few of his own pearly whites when Gage pulled his foot away.

   He grabbed the ledge he had just acquainted himself with, his black blood sizzling on the stone as it ate away at its surface, and pushed up so he could see the alley below him. Fuck, they had closed in around her. She was slinking back, her hands out in front of her as she back stepped away from them. He jumped to his feet again, and after wiping his blood off his chin he had an idea, and spat what was left in his mouth at one of the men just as Michael flung an arm around his neck and tired to pull him back away from the edge.

   Okay, more then tried because Gage had enough time to see the man slap a hand against his face and cringe before Michael managed to struggle him away.

   “Don’t interfere,” Michael hissed, “it’s better this way.”

   But Gage wasn’t having any of it, wasn’t playing games this time.

   “Only for you,” Gage growled and threw his arms behind him, grabbing a fistful of the angel’s feathers in each hand.

   With a grunt he pulled him up and over his head, slamming him down across the ledge on his back. There were several pops under the crunch of metal, both quickly drowned out by Michael’s cry of agony as Gage ripped the feathers he had in his fists from his back.

   There was no worse pain then that, to have your feathers torn from your flesh. Gage knew that from unfortunate experience. And unlike any other lost digit or appendage there was no sticking them back on. Nor were they like teeth or hair that would grow back in an instant. It would take centuries for those bald spots to fill in. It was a pain you felt deep inside, as if a part of you had been lost forever with their removal.

   And maybe he felt a little of that same loss when they fell out on their own, for his sins. But it was only of the goodness inside him. Not something he would mourn.

   Now his chest hurt.

   With one last baleful glance at Michael as he struggled not to fall off the narrow shelf Gage stepped up on the ledge once more and prepared the drop down and tear those men limb from limb.