God's Forsaken

Chapter Nineteen

The duo walked three blocks north before heading east for three more. Chipping away at the grass with a hand pressed mower, a lawn keeper paused from his work to bow to Michel. Michel paused to give a polite smile with a "Keep up the good work" before strolling over freshly cut lawn.

Tempered guilt tickled Michel's heart when he scanned the many windows of his six-story-high house. Out of the dozens of mansions here, only his home was constructed as a red, concert tower. Sacrificing square area for height allowed for a larger yard and Michel loved being in high places. Excluding the first floor, each floor had a balcony to stare off into the distance. He could blame his species for that little quirk.

"Miss Frank," said Michel, "please alert the staff that I'm home. If you need me, I'll be going to the study room." Flying up, Michel landed on the third balcony. He just opened the door when a crumpled paper ball skipped off his head. Frowning, the assassin took note of a dozen or so missed shots around the trash bin at his feet. "Fadil, how many times have I told you to stop that?"

Sitting opposite of the balcony, a young male angel slumped against a fine oak table. His slender fingers traced the grains in the wood. One of his black wings lazily flapped open and closed. Those dull blue eyes, stirring up guilt in Michel's stomach, brightened a little as his father strolled across the marine room. Tanked fish of native species swam around a glass prison taking up half the room. Knowing his son, Michel assumed he would spend most of his time watching the fish before boredom changed his activities.

"Hey Pops," said Fadil. "So you survived another business trip?" Straightening, his son in his chair, Michel scrutinized the crinkled, frilled shirt and black jeans. Bare feet were colored a light brown by dirt while the plain red tie rested in a crooked position.

Michel aligned the tie with his son's chin. "How long have you been wearing those clothes?"

"Three, maybe four days." That innocent grin almost caused Michel to laugh, but honed parenting skills held it at bay. "The maids insisted that I get a fresh set of clothes, but I only had friends over."

"New clothes. Now," ordered the father. His firm voice allowed no argument. "And after that, clean up your mess."

Sighing, the youth stood. "Suz the lawyer is in the studying room next door." The youth jabbed a finger at the door across the hall. After ensuring Fadil left for cleaner clothes, Michel entered the study room. Towering bookcases flanked him. Well-worn books of fantasy, business, illusionary magic, and sea life claimed the shelfs. A quick walk through the study helped Michel spot a pair of twitching gray wings. At first, Michel thought of calling to her, but seeing the seated Suz facing away from him brought on a silly idea.

Michel crouched as he neared his daughter. After his performance, he would reprimand her for placing her black slippers on the table. At least her blue stockings appeared cleaner than her brother's clothing. Pinching strands of her short, brown hair, the daughter focused on something on the table. The assassin snuck behind his daughter and moved to place his hands over her eyes. One of Suz's wings halted his hands.

"For leaving us for so long," declared Suz, "I will have you witness the terror of a teen's brain."

Michel rolled his eyes in amusement as the world started to waver. Creeping darkness swallowed the bookcases and white walls. Suz and her table merged with the darkness until only Michel existed in lighted night. Heavy breathing drew the assassin's attention to his right. Long, yellowed fingernails extended from the abyss. Arms of sickly green attached themselves to a fur ball standing on scaly legs. A black hole, surrounded by dense, coarse fur, replaced the eyes.