Damasen

Naomi walked along an alley in Brooklyn early one morning after a fight with her boyfriend.  She'd stormed out of his house with only a pair of shorts and one of his T-shirts and her shabby hoodie.  Her black and blonde hair was a crazy curly mess from him hitting her and pushing her around.  He'd always been possessive of her and had never liked the idea of her always having so many guy friends.  So, the fight had been about her interaction with her friend Travis and how her boyfriend, Dean, thought that Travis was trying to get with her.  Now, she'd stormed out on him, leaving him to cool off.  Naomi knew that he would talk to her later, when he had a cool head that would let him think a little clearer.  But, she wasn't sure she could forgive him for hurting her again.  Naomi had sustained too many bruises to her back and arms and legs from him pushing her around.  The worst one had been on her cheek when he'd hit her for snapping at him.  She'd had to use a ton of foundation to cover it while it healed so that her parents wouldn't say anything about it.

A cool wind blew down the alley, rousing her from her thoughts.  

"Don't you know that Nephilim shouldn't be left to walk alone?" a deep voice spoke from several feet ahead.

Naomi looked up. Her heart had begun to pound.  She knew that when someone could tell what she was without much work...she was in danger.  She focused her sight on the dark shadow ahead.  Over six feet tall.  Broad-shouldered.  Definitely an angel.  "You don't know me.  Not all Nephilim are week and need protection." she snapped.

The angel chuckled and Naomi could hear the soft clunk of his boots on the pavement as he took a few steps down the alley toward her.  "Yes, I know.  Many of your kind tend to be a bit pig-headed.  Foolish.  I can smell the warrior blood in you.  Shame it was wasted.  His blood would've been more useful in a better form."

Naomi wrinkled her nose.  He was one of those angels.  The angels that killed Nephilim because they believed that the Nephilim were never meant to be.  The Hands of God.  She was definitely in horrible danger.  He'd hunt her until she was a marred corpse.

"You don't know what you're talking about.   None of you do.  Demented things you are." Naomi spat.

He was on her in a millisecond.  His eyes were like bloodstone, reddish orange with streaks of black.  His dark eyebrows had drawn together angrily.  His large, callused hand clamped around her throat. "Don't you dare speak to me like that, disgusting abomination.  I've lived hundreds of years longer than you.  I serve the Lord in ways you never could.  Fought in countless battles.  I know what belongs on this earth.  Your kind is not something that is meant to be here.  The fact that my brothers have wasted their blood on you is something I must fix, starting with your destruction."

The angel backed away, tossing Naomi on the ground. She coughed a few times to allow herself to breathe and speak again.  "Why do you think there are so many of us, then, angel?  If we aren't meant to be here, why hasn't your Lord had us killed yet?  Why hasn't he stopped our creation?  Why hasn't he punished our fathers and mothers?" Naomi said.

The angel's face contorted with anger.  "That is not for me to answer, monster.  Perhaps you can ask the Lord when he sends you to Hell."  Fire like none Naomi had seen before, whitish with hints of red and orange emitted from the angel's hand.  It coalesced and began to take shape, forming a sword.  Naomi began to crawl away, but the angel's eyes were on her.  A sickening grin sprawling across his lips.  

He let her crawl away, staying where he was.  As soon as Naomi had crawled several feet, she released her black wings and jumped into the air, but the angel snagged her wing and dragged her back down.  Naomi slammed into the ground, the wind rushed out of her lungs and she wheezed.

Naomi looked back over her shoulder and saw that the angel's sword was no longer in his hand.  He had hold of her left wing.  A low rumble echoed from within his chest.  "I love when your kind tries to run and fly off.  Just makes the hunt more exhilarating." the angel said.

He knelt down beside her and took her face in his hand gently.  "Such a beautiful face.  With your father's eyes too.  The breathtaking gold.  Such a shame that I must kill you."

He stood quickly and she felt the weight of his hand between her shoulder-blades as he pressed down.  Then, an excruciating pain screamed through her shoulder and down her back and she couldn't stop herself from screaming at the top of her lungs as he twisted her wing.  A sickening crunching and grinding sound filled her ears.  He twisted and turned her wing in all different directions.  But, blackness filled the edges of Naomi's vision and she could no longer find it in her to scream.  Tears were streaming down her face and she was helpless.

"Enough, Damasen." A deep voice came from the opposite wall of the alley just inches from Naomi and the angel.

Naomi didn't even turn her head to look.  She felt like any movement she made would cause her even more pain and that was something she couldn't take.

The angel stopped turning her wing and let it sag to the ground useless.  Warm blood was flowing down her back from her wing.

"Aziel.  What an unpleasant surprise." the angel - Damasen - replied, turning to his brother.

"I would say the same to you...brother." Aziel spat. "I could've done with another decade of not seeing the likes of you."

Damasen chuckled.  "Why come and interrupt me, then?  I'm working here."

"We both know why I must interfere, Damasen.  What you are doing is not work.  It was not assigned to you by the Lord.  You are killing our own children.  That is something I cannot allow.  None of us can allow." Aziel's deep voice vibrated off the walls of the alley though he spoke in a deathly quiet voice.

Damasen became serious then.  "I cannot allow these monsters to live in this world.  They were not put here by God.  They do not belong here."

"Ah, but they were put here by God, Damasen.  They were put here by his own creations.  If they were not meant to be, he would've killed their mothers before they gave them life.  But, he didn't.  Therefore, they are no more a species of monsters than the humans or the angels."  Aziel said calmly.  "So, I must ask that you step away from the poor girl and allow me to take her away from here."

"Or what, Aziel?" Damasen purred.  "You will fight me?"

"I will.  This girl did not deserve such treatment."

"She's yours..., isn't she?" Damasen hissed.  "You're daughter.  I thought she was Nakir's."

"No, she is Nakir's.  You can see by her eyes and her wings.  The tips of gold on the feathers.  Not mine.  My children are already safe in Aerie.  Safe from you." Aziel replied.  "Now, step aside, Damasen.  You and I both know that a fight is not something you want with me."

Damasen held his head high with contempt, but stepped aside all the same.  "One day, Aziel.  I promise you."

Aziel chuckled.  "Call me when you're ready, Damasen.  I always am."

There was a rustling sound as Damasen's wings came out from under his shirt and they spread wide.  Then, a huge whoosh as he flapped them and took to the air.

Aziel knelt down beside the - now unconscious - Nephilim girl.  Her beautiful black wing had been twisted at an extremely odd angle.  It was clear it was broken off and would need to be severed so that another could grow back in its place.  The poor girl was in for a lot of pain when that wing grew back.  Not as bad as the pain a Nephilim can experience when they Change, but enough pain for her to remember to be more careful with her wings in the future.

Aziel carefully pressed her wings to her back and took her in his arms like a child.  Then, he took to the air, headed for Aerie.