The Little Blade

She had walked into my office, and immediately made it look like a dive. She had that sharp, expensive look. The Old Money kind that made everything else look cheap.
I didn’t care. She was a classy looking broad. Much later on I’d wish I had paid closer attention before inviting her in. But life down here was making me soft, so instead I thought to myself, ‘Oh yeah! My rent just walked in.’ Course, it all depended on what she wanted or didn’t want.
Her mint eyes travelled my shabby room, a second later up went a perfect and dubious eyebrow. I didn’t mind, my office and I, we didn’t look like much -that was just fine with me.
Bottom feeding kept me afloat and away from all sorts of trouble, the not so funny thing was this lady looked like more than enough trouble and then some. I sat back scowling my finest, considering telling her to head on back up town. That I wouldn’t be taking any new cases, except of course -my desk was littered with a few overdues and my landlord was a large man I made sure I steered clear of. Chiefly whenever my rent was due. So I flashed her my best, ‘You came to the right place’ smile. She didn’t look all that impressed.
What a tough cookie.


Clearing my throat I gestured her to the dusty and obviously lopsided chair directly across me. She coolly looked at the chair, my overflowing desk, and then took a hesitant step further into the room. Then my day skipped out the damn window, straight to hell.
“Taxiarch Archangel Michael, Prince of the Seraphim Who Is Like God?” She even managed to look into my eyes while saying it.
This really was a tough cookie. If I’d been less shocked, I might have enjoyed it.
Instead, my glamour shattered, I blazed so bright -like shards of lightning. My wings snapped open with a supersonic crack, driving me to my feet, bowing my spine. I almost melted right there.
Her voice, it sounded like broken bottles, midnight, smoke and blood. I’d like to say I didn’t notice that, but I did. And of course she had to look into my eyes. Someone �"I wondered who, had advised her it was the only way she could be sure I was who or what she was looking for.
My name smashed into me like the hand of God upon my heart. My Lord, The Hammer, struck me and I rang. I know my eyes told her what she wanted to know.
The Heavens trumpeted, my Glory descended, and my mantle settled upon me. It sounded like the first death, felt like the first fire. And for a second, he beheld me. It cracked the rock that is my heart. I was in favour still, and it cut as deeply as it healed even then.

… I probably looked like someone had dumped a vat of Day Glo all over me.
Glory is very annoying when you don’t need it. It’s a bit like bringing a bazooka to a fist fight. What was I going to do with it? Light up all of downtown? I didn’t need this, I had rent to pay!
Then she flew at me, with barely there steps on the wooden floor. I blinked, she was here, stabbing at me with the weapon in her hand. Raising two fingers, I spoke.
“Halt.”
It doesn’t sound very fancy. Real power quite often isn’t.
She held the Black Dagger of Cain the Betrayer, my dog of old. I wondered how Gádreél had convinced her to take it upon her soul. This whole situation suddenly reeked of him.
The dagger was a painful weapon to hold. It knew only betrayal. I wondered what she had been told would happen. The knife stopped. It belonged to me after all. Her eyes finally met mine and she fell into me, side effect of looking an angel in the eye. What was she? A human beholden to the Old Dragon? An eager little demoness? Not one of the fallen.
What I found was an abomination. Her soul was welded to the dagger. She was the knife. The knife was her. The knife was mine.
“The Black Dagger will not kill its master.” I whispered and watched her flinch, she understood. That it and now she, was mine. Her eyes spat death at me, glared shanks stabbed into kidneys in shady, filthy alleys.

If she could have, her will alone might have killed me. It ticked me off. What had I ever done to her?
Again I spoke. My voice cracked matter and space. My poor desk shattered, my windows bowed, then blew out. The lights flickered on and off, some agitated code. Not exactly part of the plan. Look, I’m an Archangel and I was pissed off, give me a break. Just raising my voice makes things happen.
“Though art an Abomination!” Er, yes well, angles tend to fall back to old speech when we get riled up. We stood there after my proclamation. She had guts, my tough cookie. She blinked back despair, but I could smell it. Up went her chin, so brave but the hand holding the knife shook in fear.
“What now?” She asked with that voice. What a voice.
“Indeed what my Little Blade?” I smiled. It wasn’t at all my best smile, but she was impressed enough this time for tremor to ripple across her body.
“Will you kill me now?”
“As you have attempted with me?” She nodded, swallowing.
My head was all over the place, plus that voice of hers, that’s the only excuse I have for what I said next.
“Well now my Little Blade. Sheath the Black Dagger. After that, I think I shall keep you.” Gingerly returning the dagger to the small of her back she cautiously stepped back. Her fear and despair were palpable. Unfortunately, I enjoyed that. Everyone keeps thinking angels are nice.
“You and I Little Blade, have rent to pay.” The look on her face was priceless. I’m proud to say she has that look perpetually around me. And so, I acquired my Little Blade.

Author's Note

Please do ignore grammar problems. I would just like to know what you think of the story.