9 Chapter Nine

I curled up with Gressil on the burgundy sheets, waiting for Michael patiently. I was under lockdown for the rest of the night, because Mary-Anne was in the building. We had walked through the door to be met with an unfamiliar black haired woman who informed us. She lead me upstairs, and Michael ran distraction to ensure Mary-Anne did not see me. The woman was kind, and introduced herself as Eclair Black-- commonly known as Michael's mother. She reminded me much of Polly; as soon as she sat me down, she supplied me with a pot of Earl Grey and biscuits before smiling and leaving. I stroked Gressil's skull and took a sip from the floral porcelain teacup, feeling the sweetness of the tea run over my mouth like rain.

"Who do you think is writing our story, Gressil?" I mused, feeling him purr on my lap. I heard the pounding of high heels on cobblestone and I shrunk back. It could only be one of three people-- Eclair, Lilith or Mary-Anne. The door swung open, to reveal and ink black shadow.

"I felt like you were lonely sweetie, so I came to chat." Eclair's voice was melodic and soothing. She quietly closed the heavy door behind her and practically skipped over to me.

"So," She sat at the end of the bed and crossed her legs in her dress pants, "Tell me about yourself. Something Michael hasn't told me." I laughed at her blunt inquiry, an action that seemed greatly appreciated by the shadowy woman.

"My favourite colour is purple," My voice was light with sarcasm and we shared a chuckle. "And I enjoy sweet things,"

"Yes, Michael told me of your 'coffee flavoured cream and sugar'." I smiled, but was not surprised at her knowledge. We had met at a coffee shop, and my friends had blatantly announced my habit to the store.

"Well, you know things about me. How about you?" Eclair blinked in confusion, as if an interest in her was a rare occurrence.

"Michael is one of my three children. He has an older brother Mitch, and a younger sister Melody." I noticed that she seemed to have an affinity for the letter 'm' in her childrens names. "His brother is twenty-five, and his sister is eight." I plastered on a nonchalant mask, but I was shocked at the age difference.

"I'm sure you know that the Angelic Guardian's have traces from angel blooded humans. The angels, however, chose one Guardian every generation to host and breed with another Guardian. All of my children are angelic hosts. My eldest is the host of Zophiel, my youngest is the host of the angel Jophiel and Michael," She trailed off, a spark of pride lighting in her eyes, "Well, I named him after it." It clicked in my head, and my blood ran cold. I had befriended the archangel Michael. Eclair giggled at my look of disbelief and bewilderment.

"He spoke highly of you," The juxtaposition of the last two marks made my head spin. We had suddenly flip-flopped the conversation from the mighty and powerful Michael to the lowly and weak me.

"Oh," My voice was barely a whisper, and I bowed my head, focusing on the ripple of Gressil's scales.

"Yes, he says things like--" The door burst open to see a pink faced Michael.

"Mother! Do not embarrass me!" He squeaked, and pouted in defiance. Eclair just frowned at her son's flushed face.

"Michael Cain Black, you weren't eavesdropping were you?" Eclair's cool and proper voice made chills run up my spine and Michael froze.

"No." He blurted, but it was obvious he was. Eclair gave me a wink and stood up, adjusting her pristine blouse.

"After you're done here," She briskly walked past him and tugged at his earlobe, "We're going to have a lesson on manners." She left and waved me goodbye. Michael deflated, releasing a breath he had been holding in.

"I am so screwed after this," Michael ran his fingers through his hair so it stuck up like a porcupine. I nodded in agreement, patting the bed in front of me as an invitation to sit. He had his hands hidden behind his back as he trotted over to me.

"I got this for you," He held out a thick yellow book with a familiar triangle headed character on the front.

"Guardians for Dummies?" I snorted, taking the plastic bound book.

"That and this," He pulled out a leather bound book from the other hand.

"This is a creature dictionary. Every demon, monster and angelic creature known to mankind resides in this book. You'll need it." I gratefully took it, and placed them next to Gressil. Michael sat cross legged on the bed, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees.

"So," I broke the awkward silence, "Mary-Anne?" His eyes darkened and he clenched his hands.

"I don't want to talk about it," His voice was a cool as a winter's day at home. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and Gressil croaked in annoyance.

"She's not my fiancee," Michael blurted, scratching the back of his head meekly. "She's delusional. Her family is in high status, and wants us to marry for a good Angelic bloodline. It's kind of like making purebloods but my family believes in free will. They keep pushing it though, and threatening."

"Relationships suck," I sighed, stroking Gressils spine. Michael eyed me suspiciously, as if his eyes were searching mine to locate some deep dark secret. I avoided my gaze to shield my soul from his piercing stare.

"I've been in three. They're fun when they last but are terrible when they crash." He sighed, twisting the silver stud in his ear.

"I've only had the pleasure of watching them bloom and wilt." I murmured, stroking Gressils throat.

"You're a single pringle?" I chuckled at his inquiry and nodded. My eyes felt droopy and my body heavy. I felt the deep urge to sleep, but I did not want to embarrass myself in front of Michael. I forced them to stay open, as if making them stay open with lift my dignity in a manner of speaking.

"Why don't we watch a movie? You've had a stressful day." Michael motioned to the screen in front of us and my head automatically nodded, drooping slightly. As he chose one, my eyelids grew heavier and I fought the urge to yawn.

"Let's enjoy a comedy." He popped the silver disk in the player and sauntered over to me. He pulled my head onto his shoulder. I wish that I had even seen the title screen, but I was asleep before my eyes closed.

I was wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and safety as my eyes cracked open. Light danced in front of my eyes as I yawned, black spots of exhaustion mixing with golden light. Gressil's cool head rested on my forearm and his tail wrapped around my thigh. The blanket behind me was hard and warm. I pushed back against it, cuddling deeper into its warmth. The blanket grunted and shifted behind me and pulled me closer. That's when my eyes flew open in horror. Blankets were warm yes, but they did not move nor did they make sound. I felt some breath fanning out over my neck and the cold tip of someone's nose digging into the flesh behind my ear. I scanned for my glasses, finding them laying peacefully on the nightstand. Using my peripheral vision, and twisted my head to see a familiar black tuff of hair.

"Michael!" I hissed, and began squirming around as if to shake him off. He whined in annoyance and wrapped his arms around my waist and tangled his legs with mine.

"Sleep…"Michael grumbled in his slumber and yanked me closer. I could feel every line of his body against mine and I squeaked, feeling Gressil shake about in front of me. Feeling my dignity wash away from me I gave up and laid there in anguish.

"Damn it." I muttered and craned my head to the open window. The birds were chirping as the sky began to brighten, rays of light bathing the room. I went to close my eyes for only a second, but I opened them when I felt featherlight touches tracing my shoulder blade. My mind must have shut down momentarily, and when I opened my eyes the blazing sun was high in the sky. Gressil was hopping around the room excitedly, romping around like a puppy. I shifted slightly, and felt Michael retract his hand slightly.

"Peanut? You awake?" Michael whispered. I did not make a sound, intrigued on what he was doing. Michael continued tracing my spine and shoulders, focusing heavily on the small of my back and my left shoulder blade above my heart. He was muttering something under his breath, and I tried to identify what he was saying. Unfortunately, it was in a language I did not recognize. I was enjoying the experience before Gressil bounced on our legs and we shifted about violently.

"I'm awake!" I squeaked automatically, twisting out of Michael's grip and sitting up. Michael laid on his back, curling into the covers so only his nose and eyes stuck out. I reached for my glasses and slipped them on, blinking rapidly. My spine felt unusually cool while my shoulder and lower back felt like a cold inferno. It was both blinding hot yet a piercing cold that did not seem to bother me.

"You slept in here?" I asked, yawning a bit. I scratched my rats nest of hair and tilted my head sideways. Michael nodded before sitting up, causing my face to flush.

"Why are you shirtless?" I squeaked, gripping my hands over my eyes. What had been seen could not be unseen, and what I had seen was not meant for a mere mortal's eyes. His body resembled that of Michelangelo's David, yet somehow more defined. He had a pattern of spirling ink down his right arm that depicted a spiraling pocket watch on his shoulder, engraved with a pentagram being held up by some angelic figure. It looked like a stone angel, expressionless and with a sword strapped to its side. At the torso, it disintegrated into rose petals which poured over a fragmented skull. Swirls of silver and gold feathers and numbers were scattered along the cracks, and a swirling chain connected the watch to the top of the skull where the angel's sword was embedded. He had another tattoo residing over his heart in the shaped like a knotted upside down star, a serpent coiling around it and consuming it's own tail to create a circle. A hidden language was painted around it, one that seemed to shimmer to me and become eligible. Before I could make out the words I had covered my eyes.

"Peanut, looking at me is not going to kill you." Michael chuckled, patting my back before I heard his feet hit the ground. I peeked through my hands to see his well toned back, with a iridescent tattoo of golden wings stretching out over this back. More harsher symbols I did not understand lined down his spine, and disappeared at the small of his back.

"Every Guardian has a tattoo depending on what they are. It marks you as one of us, and says your heritage. This is mine." He smacked his back in pride, before bending over to find his clothes. I recalled from last night seeing a shimmering glow on the back of my right hand. I eyed the appendage suspiciously, and moved it in the light. Sure enough, the shine was there. The symbol I could make out looked eerily similar to that of Michael's above his heart. I could not make out the fine details, but I managed to make out two words.

"What's a Star-Blood?" I asked Michael who froze on the spot.

"Where did you hear that?" His voice was on edge, and he slipped on his blue tee shirt and grasped his signature jacket.

"I can see something on my hand, and I made out that word. What does it mean?" Michael strode over to me and gently took my hand, looking at it carefully as if it was a serpent readying to strike. He pressed on my third knuckle softly and the lines began to shine.

"You're time in your world diminished it. I'm bringing the ink out," He muttered, breathing over my glowing skin. I was in awe of the incident, watching as the black lines crisscrossed together and formed. My assumption was correct, the tattoo on Michael's chest was nearly identical to my own. Mine, however, has a line burning a path up my arm, zig zagging into a lattice work of patterns that resembled stars and spiderwebs. Almost as if a window had been shattered and stars were caught in the glass. The line sped up to my shoulder to connect to another interesting stopwatch, only mine had a cross engraved it it. My arm was covered in glittering constellations trapped in a weaving web, with the stopwatch dripping the stars and cracks. I gawked, twisting my arm around to see the shine of the stars. Michael smiled, draping his cool leather jacket around my shoulders. I was waving my arm around like a fool, my mouth open in fascination.

"Stop waving that thing around, you're going to hurt someone. Get dressed, Carina came in when you fell asleep with some clothes for you." He stood up groggily and walked to the door, pausing when he touched the knob. I opened my mouth in a silent scream and continued waving it about it horror and curiosity.

"You're adjusting well." He muttered in disbelief, shaking his head before walking out the door. I was still waving my arm around and feeling my chest tighten in wonder and anxiety.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?"

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