Fallen

Chapter Seven

Xander's eyes were unblinking as he carefully observed the interaction from across the room. The glass in his hand was a mere prop, as he brought it to his lips in an almost methodical gesture. Peering over the rim, he didn't miss a single exchange passed between the two, completely oblivious to his stare.

And the longer he watched, the angrier he became.

The moment Jonathan's introduction of the Angels ceased, and the crowd converged on them, Xander couldn't hold back the roll of his eyes. Everyone here, regardless of position, was enthralled by their appearance. As if it was going to change anything. As if they were going to free the Fallen, rather than side with the messengers. If anything, their arrival only heightened the tense climate between the two sides.

There were many in the messengers camp who felt that the Angels had no place taking over their ruling. They had been appointed their roll over centuries, learned to live as human to better understand the Fallen's plight. In many ways, they too were banished to the same fate, as they were bound on Earth until a resolution was reached. And now, it would seem, they were being superseded.

And of course, despite their enthusiastic and excited welcome, the majority in the Fallen camp knew their fate was still just as precarious as ever. Possibly even more so, as with the messengers, it was an opponent they knew. These Angels knew nothing of life on Earth, of the struggles of mortality.

Better the foe you know than the one you do not.

Xander watched as Michael, the immediately most striking of the Angels, quickly averted the gathering surrounding him. It was eerie to witness, as he glided through the crowd, almost as though they parted like the sea for him. Many watched him go, and yet no one stopped him. Whether out of fear, uncertainty, or another influence, Xander didn't know. Nor did he care.

As Michael reached for a glass of Clarea water, he was met with Harper. Of course, at first, Xander smirked. Harper was not known to hold her tongue, and of all his cousin's, Xander felt most assured that she would be the one to rebuff any glamour the Angel may emit. But as he watched the exchange, as Harpers expression turned from surprise, to confusion, to annoyance and back again, Xander no longer felt the certainty he once had. If anything, his anger grew, as he watched the expression on Harper's face slowly turn to intrigue.

With a spin on her heels, Harper retreated away from the Angel, leaving him standing watching her departure with keen eyes. Seconds later, he merged back in to the crowd almost like that of a ghost, just as Harper turned to see if he was in fact watching her.

It was this gesture, this turn and interest in his attention that pushed Xander over the edge.

Setting his glass down harshly, he stepped away from his cluster of companions. The mixture of dark and light clothing make it difficult to seek out the object of his anger. Pushing through the crowd, he searched.

Who were these Angels to come and pass their judgment? As if they knew anything of life on Earth? Of living in a city such as Los Angeles? As if they knew anything of his family, of the plight of the Fallen, or could ever hope to understand them in mere months.

The idea was ludicrous, albeit slightly humorous. Of all the Otherworld communities in the world, of New York, London, Athens and more, they come here. To Los Angeles, the City of Angeles. Rather fitting, it seemed.

They had no place here. They were a mockery of the Fallen's punishment, sent here as a final reminder of what they would never be again. And now, to have the nerve to mingle with his cousin of all people, Xander no longer wished to hold his tongue.