Chapter 5

She tells me I used to be a master of this particular art. One of eight. The highest of academic achievers. However, I am disinclined to believe her, though why she would lie is beyond my comprehension. Angels do not lie. But they do have their tells.

And her nose twitches when she tells me of my life.

Sunshine warms the floorboards beneath my feet, falling from the open window in a curtain of translucent yellow. It is a winter’s sunshine. Inviting in its appearance, it masks the cold that waits for those foolish enough to leave their warm homes without precaution. For those who do not look for the telling sign of dragon’s breath, curling from the lips of the outsiders.

A cloud of dust rises as I place yet another large box of ingredients down in the musty cupboard. I watch as it swirls around me, the mix of dead skin, mites and dirt sparkling as though they were precious diamonds. People forget that there is beauty to be found in everything, if one only chooses to look hard enough. Even in myself.

I know I am odd. I know there is something not quite right. Something missing. When I look in the mirror, I don’t see myself. I see only a reflection of the man I ought to be.

I don’t see the face of a killer.

Perhaps it’s overstatement to refer to myself in such a way. I haven’t harmed my angel. She still stands in one piece by the desk, rifling through the papers the Minister left. But I have thought about it, as a means to rid me of my current affliction.

She is perfect. Like nothing I have ever seen before. And the basest part of me wants her in the most human of ways. It’s a little sickening to know that I crave to taint something so pure. That the spread of her hair across my pillow would be the ultimate sin and, yet, the ultimate fantasy.

Last night she slept with me, sharing the same bed, the same air. I could feel her body pressing against the mattress, hear the tell-tale rhythm of her breathing. I watched as she became wrapped in a nightmare, fear etched upon her delicate features as she tossed and turned. It pained me, and I regretted my earlier thoughts of homicide.

To destroy such a being would be a crime against nature. I may not know who I am, but I know the difference between right and wrong. I know that there is a fine line between lust and hate.