The Chamber of Sins

Derek’s eyes showed concern as reading Ivette’s file.

“Something is not right. This woman died earlier than she should have. Something other than human had murdered her. She should be alive. Hmm,” he said, more for himself than for Ramiel to hear. “Can you call Salatiel for me?” He said, his tone too kind.

“He is not answering,” Ramiel said after trying to call him. “I, I have something to tell you. Salatiel-” the angel stopped, his eyes glaring at the floor. “One night, I caught Salatiel while trying to harm the girl, the crazy one.”

Derek said nothing, and Ramiel felt the need to fill the silence.

“He wasn’t alone. A demon was with him. So I helped the girl and ensured she didn’t see me.”

“If he comes here, tell him to wait for me as I need to talk to him.” Derek trotted outside the room, furious at his brother. It was forbidden to mingle with humans and their lives. And definitely, it wasn’t allowed to fraternise with demons. Only, of course, if the situation required it.

Lionette let the boiling water run over her face. She stood against the chilly steamed wall for minutes, feeling the contrast between cold and hot reshaping her thoughts. Something was wrong with everything that happened: with Robert, Clare, and Gabriel. The woman sighed. Something was missing in this intricate puzzle. And then it was Emily, sweet Emily.

Lionette’s stomach twisted in pain at Emily’s smiling face, pushed forward by her mind, and she gulped for air.

Stephionee said she needed to talk to me, she thought. So I will call her after having my coffee. I so need it.

She poured a considerable quantity of coffee into her mug and walked into the conservatory. It was chilli, and she covered herself with a silky blanket. The woman switched on the TV and, cuddling up on the cosy sofa, browsed through the channels looking for the news.

She abandoned the TV only to watch two collared doves cleaning their feathers. She smiled and took a generous gulp of coffee. She glared at the TV screen again and forced herself to read the title of the small band at the bottom. Five killed in a house attack.

“The world is wilder and wilder every day,” Lionette muttered and changed the program. First, a father killed his wife, accusing her of prostitution. The neighbours confirmed the story.

She unmuted the TV and listened to the broadcast - a renowned lawyer, mother-of-three, professional by day, and a call-girl by night. It was a recent habit, the witnesses said.

Lionette smiled and passed to another channel. Street gangs, brawls, violence, murders, quite the usual, maybe more than expected - news channels were broadcasting.

The phone buzzed, and Lionette took it with a simple gesture. She yawned and read the message. Her heart pumped blood faster, the pressure making her ears pitch.

Can you come? Emily wrote.

Before she could write an answer, another one popped on the screen.

2-1 Gravelly Dr ASAP

She didn’t lose any time writing an answer.

Arrived at the location, Lionette searched the perimeter; everything was still and quiet. The building was a bungalow with two entrances. The one from Gravelly Dr was ajar. Once Lionette entered the house, she found herself in deep darkness. The windows covered by thick curtains didn’t allow too much light.

“Hello?” Lionette yelled out. Her voice bounced between the adorning walls. No echo. She stayed for a moment and listened. Muttered words were coming from the street through the thick walls. Lionette switched on the lantern on her phone. The house looked abandoned; paintings and porcelains were frozen in time.

The sofa, chairs, and tables were covered in white plastic. Lionette trotted by the window and tugged the curtain away. The sun’s light replaced the shadows fast and unveiled a long hallway.

Lionette hobbled between the pieces of furniture scattered in the living room.

“Emily?” Lionette cried.

She pushed the first chamber door—just usual staff posing in the dark. The last one was the kitchen. A marble island, mounted in the middle of the room, hid a significant part of the floor. She could hear faded sounds from behind it. The woman bit her lip as a shiver ran through her body.

Emily was there, soaked in her one blood, her phone thrown by the oven base. Lionette wailed, and she crawled on her knees towards her. Emily was barely breathing, her face bathed in blood and tears.

“Bear with me, honey. Bear with me,” Lionette said and took her beautiful face between her hands. Then her trembling hand searched for her phone desperately. The woman cursed and threw herself over Emily’s phone. She grabbed and dialled the emergency number.

“Hello? What is your emergency?” A masculine voice said.

“I-” she swallowed her words as seeing the enormous shadow peeling off the wall.

“Hello? Are you alright, ma’am? What is your emergency? Ma’am?”

Lionette felt a tenseness in her muscles as she retreated. Finally, she stopped when she hit the kitchen furniture. She abandoned the phone on the icy tiles; her next priority was finding something to work as a weapon. It was a kitchen, and she could use everything as a weapon.

“Hi,” a voice hissed, sending terror to Lionette’s bones. She didn’t answer, just glanced at the blue light emanated by the Saint Peter’s compass from inside her bag.

He is an angel, Lionette thought.

“Well, not quite. You see, a death angel is half-angel - half-demon,” the thing responded, making the room reverberate under his tonality.

“What do you want?” she asked, tears of helplessness washing her cheeks.

“What do I want?” the angel came closer, and Lionette saw his dark wings emerging from behind. Dark chiselled feathers covered them. “I want your granddaughter,” he said.

The woman swallowed her tears. An idea ran through her head as she noticed a feather bouncing to the ground slowly. A choked cry forced itself up her throat.

“It is you, the one who killed Ivette. Why? Angels can not kill people. You should help them pass into the afterlife, not kill them. You work against the rules of Heaven!” Lionette said.

“Shh, if you don’t tell, I won’t,” the angel said confidentially. “Now, tell me where your granddaughter is, and you will live.”