Becca walked through the streets as if they were a single straight line, and there was no one around her.

Inside her side bag, Rosenbaum’s letter, along with the face he sent her, and the crowbar from Don’s spare office. She felt the weight of the whole world over her shoulders, feeling like God Himself was watching her steps, completely aware of her choice. Judging her every move.

But she didn’t care.

The girl spent a lot of time drifting between the here and the elsewhere, the then and the now. She made a choice, though heavy a choice it was, Becca decided to never turn back on it.

***

YOU KNOW JUSTICE, NEZARIEL! YOU CAN’T TURN YOUR BACK TO US! The fatherly figure told her, when he found out she was trying to leave the Seventh Layer with a page of the Book of Life.

She knew justice, that was for sure.

And for all she knew

JUSTICE ISN’T SIGNED IN DEMON'S BLOOD! THAT’S WHY I’M LEAVING... And you’re not stopping me!

***

Her memories were now coming back in full force to her, as she walked and thought about her own choices. Her own flaws and the consequences of what she was willing to become from that moment on.

I lived years as a human. She thought, passing by real humans. Maybe too many years...

She lived among humans, raised by two individuals that were, too, far from humanity.

Her senses felt what Donnovan was right after the incident. But she knew he wasn’t bad, although he always dealt with bad things.

Regardless of the fact that Don and Grace were actual demons living among humans for whatever reasons they had to, both of them never showed any signs of hate towards her. Nor they showed any ill intentions.

No. They cared about her and took care of her, while Metatron, Gabriel, and even her twin sister, Uriel, wanted her dead.

It was hard to believe that her own family was so deep in shit, to the point of, somehow, letting a demon into their palace, and putting its blood in the Book of Life.

And if that wasn’t enough, of course Becca got confused for a while, when she found out about who she called mom and uncle, but they weren’t bad.

They just weren’t good like the Book of Balance said good should be.

According to that book, there was good and there was evil, like light and darkness, with a vast wall between them. There was black and there was white, only.

Therefore, Heaven should be good, and Hell should be evil. In the absolute.

However, there was Becca.

There was Nezariel, recalling who she really was, and willing to throw everything she had up until then, to at least break free from that perverted system.

To at least make a tiny crack, in that vast wall.

The streets passed by without her noticing, and soon, 3rd street was in her field of view.

Number 805... She thought to herself, trying not to speak aloud, or else it would disturb her will, fragile as it was at the moment.

The number 805 appeared not long after she started looking. It was a tenement, located in a ruined building. Clearly condemned to be demolished, and full of people who couldn’t afford to earn a proper living.

Justice

And there was a murderer, a cold blooded, crazy killer, living inside that building, along with God knew how many truly innocent people.

She went in, and fortunately, the building had a humble, tiny and tight hall with a reception desk. There was an old man smoking a pipe and reading the newspaper.

“Sir...” the girl called, as softly as she could, trying to get his attention. “Is there a person named... Jeremy... Rosenbaum living here?”

“Oh, the soldier?” the man answered, eyes still in the newspaper. “The man don’t pay his rent, but somehow always gets away with it. I ain’t young for this bull anymore, young girl. You what? His girlfriend or something?”

The sole thought made her stomach turn once more, but she held on and replied.

“I gotta know if he lives here. He wronged me, and I think he might have killed somebody.”

Those words took the old man’s eyes out of the newspaper.

“Killed? Girl, you can go upstairs and try looking for him, but he ain’t nowhere to be seen. Damn, I should’ve known better when he disappeared.” and his eyes went right back at the newspaper. “Second floor, sixth door. All are numbered.”

She wanted to thank him, but any more speaking, and she would throw up again.

Her body was so nervous, shaking so much, that the singular fact that she was still capable of standing, was already a miracle.

Justice

She didn’t know what to call herself anymore, if Becca, Nezariel, or if she’d rather choose a new name. Her mind was racing faster than she was able to process the thoughts, so she chose to just walk, going up the wrecked stairs, to find a hallway with yellow lighting, and numbered doors that seemed so fragile, so rotten, they could fall for one touch of her hand.

To her surprise, though, when she found the number six, almost faded on the door plate, the door itself was pretty solid, and quite hard to open.

“Welcome, little girl...” Rosenbaum’s voice disgustingly cooed through the walls.

It was a single room, with an inner door, leading to the restroom, a tiny stove, a bed, and tons of filth everywhere.

Pizza boxes, dirty paper plates, dirty laundry. Everything was dirty and smelled like shit and...

No, she didn’t dare to think of what else.

“I got your package.” Becca said, trying to sound as calm and unperturbed as possible. “You’re a monster.” Nezariel’s voice was sharp like a knife.

“Huh, what do we have here?” Jeremy looked at her, standing up from the chair he was sitting in. The whole room was covered in darkness, except for his computer, on and displaying a picture of her, naked, back towards the camera.

On her back, six thick scars showed up.

“Are you going to misbehave, little girl?” Rosenbaum asked, ironically. He got closer to her, his upper body naked, so thin, his bones were protruding from beneath the skin. He tried to touch the girl’s face.

She inhaled, and then exhaled, trying not to get too dizzy from the smell. And when his hand was only an inch from her skin, she grabbed his wrist so hard, she could hear the cracking of his bones.

The middle-aged man screamed hard, but no one outside seemed to hear it.

“YOU BITCH I’M GONNA SHOW YOU HOW TO BEHAVE PROPERLY!” he shouted towards her, leaning backwards, moving to his computer.

But before he could be able to do anything, his arm got caught in her grip again, a violent twist making his head bump into the keyboard. Another scream followed.

She threw Rosenbaum backwards, to the opposite side of the room.

“So this is what you were threatening me with?” Nezariel’s voice sounded cynical, almost as if she was having fun. “What happens if I do this?” and she grabbed the desktop, throwing it violently to the floor. The machine breaking into dozens on little pieces.

“NO!” Rosenbaum yelled, flabbergasted.

“YOUREGONNABAYVORWHATYOUDONE!” he screamed, mouth full of blood, charging against her like an angry bull.

“No...” the girl’s voice sounded peaceful, yet stern, while shoving her knee at his nose, which exploded, making blood rain over the floor. As he staggered backwards again, tripping over his bed and falling on his ass, she finished her sentence. “You’re the one who’d gonna pay for taking my peace away.”

She tossed her side bag to the floor, opening it while observing him, opened it, and took the crowbar, which emitted a wicked gleam. Its chromed metal shining, yet there was no light inside the room.

Or so she thought, but when Becca looked at her hands, Nezariel’s light shone quietly.

“That’s it. I know who I am.” She spoke. “And funnily enough, thanks to you, I remember my real name now.” she grabbed him from his bed, shoved him at the chair, and tied him tightly.

“Unfortunately, you won’t be around for long to remember it.”

He tried to break free from her grip, from the cords, from her gaze, but he was too weak, and didn’t even notice.

“Iwasnomywault! Blease blease blease!” he pleaded, while she kept binding him.

“Oh, so whose fault it was then?”

“Thedemonthedemonthedemon! Thedemon made me doit...” he replied, trying to make himself understandable.

Of course Nezariel knew there was a demon in the play. That Lord that had been following him around.

The only thing was that she also knew that demons didn’t interfere with human’s free will. And even though she learned it from when she was only giving her first swings at the sword, and even though there were many things she didn’t trust about Heaven anymore...

“Demons only feed on humans. They never make people do shit.” Nezariel spoke in a cold tone, her face coming closer to Rosenbaum’s. “You chose to kill. You chose to rip off a woman’s face. YOU CHOSE TO TAKE AWAY MY PEACE!”

The angel grabbed the human by his balls, smashing it between her fingers, a loud shriek coming out of his mouth.

“You chose to tell me that it was my choice to start anew, becoming someone else, right?” the angel asked, her body emanating pure, soft white light. But her eyes, flaming red, with shades of blue dancing between the flames.

Nezariel took the face from her bag. “You recognize it, don’t you?” the man nodded, tears running down his cheeks. “Yeah, right?”

Even though her words were those of a mad being, her voice was calm and collected. Even when she yelled at him, it didn’t express rage. Only calm, collected anger.

“I already became someone else, thanks to you. But it seems like you, on the other hand, need a new face, to escape the debts, the cops... And only God knows what else...” the angel said, positioning the ripped face over Rosenbaum’s bloody face, while leaving the crowbar for a second, and reaching for a stapler instead. She started stapling all over Rosenbaum’s face, to fix his mask properly.

“Now, how you like that?” she smiled.

He cried.

She saw the blood, the face, his tears. He was already a broken man.

Nezariel already took so much from him...

“Oh, but you didn’t take the only thing that can pay for the life of the woman which whose face lays over my food’s face, right darling?” a female voice lovingly cooed from somewhere between the layers of reality.

“Come out, Aamon. I know you and your companion are watching me.” Nezariel’s presence became flaming hot.

The voice laughed languidly. “Oh, you knew, didn’t you?”

The air trembled like a sheet with someone underneath it, to reveal the figures of a thing a thing that resembled a multicolour woman, but with tentacles and carapaces, a languid smile, and a... Man, in her arms.

But the man wasn’t truly a man.

“He’s leaving his humanity behind, isn’t he?”

Aamon looked at Bertrand in her arms and said, softly.

“See? I you that you’d understand it all, didn’t I?”

“So this son of a bitch is your meal?” Nezariel asked.

***

Bertrand was completely at a loss of words to what he was witnessing. He was being carried in the arms of a demon he once or twice had heard the name, in catholic school, and before them, there was a young woman emanating a soft light, with an impressive presence.

He knew that if he spoke a single lopsided word, he’d certainly die. So he chose to listen, instead of meddling in the business of the grownups.

The detective didn’t know what was happening to himself, but the ‘leaving behind his humanity’ could only mean that he wasn’t a person anymore.

Now all that was left for him, was to silently listen, and if no more answers were given, try to ask without getting killed.

***

“What if he is?” Aamon asked, unconcerned.

“You mean you’re okay if I...”

“Yeah, sure. Go ahead.” the demon replied, nonchalant. “If you have the guts to do so.” the demon’s tone became daring at that point of the conversation, almost as if it knew Nezariel wouldn’t be capable of finishing the job. “I heard that Ophanims are bound not to harm a single living human. You ready to vanish from existence, if you do?”

Rosenbaum were quiet, breathing from his mouth. His miserable life flashing in before his eyes.

The entire life spent in the military.

The taste of blood that he so came to love.

The unemployed life after the war and his disability dismissal.

What good there was in him being able to see demons? That at most made him pass for crazy in front of people.

But that girl was his ‘get out of jail free’ card. With her, he could prove that he was not crazy, and he would be rich, finally leaving that shithole of tenement building behind.

Besides killing, life had no taste for him anymore.

There was only shame and loneliness, and that never ending certainty that the world was so much more than just filthy humans.

Nevertheless, he was right. And he wouldn’t die there.

His demon would save him, like he always did, covering his presence when he was going to kill.

Yes, his demon was going to save him.

Only that Aamon wasn’t.

Nezariel picked up the crowbar from the floor, and thought to herself.

An Ophanim can’t do it?

Well, Aamon could as well be right, but the thing was...

“I’m sorry to say...” Nezariel started, as the crowbar was lifted up high, going down in a powerful blow to Rosenbaum’s knees. “But I’m not an Ophanim anymore.”

Aamon itself felt shock, seeing the crowbar going up and down, up and down, aimed at different parts of Rosenbaum’s body.

The man screamed and screamed in pure agony, along with the sounds that filled the room, of metal smashing skin, tearing flesh, breaking bones. All else was silence.

The angel attacked his shoulders, his thighs, knees, his ribs, the cracking of the bones audible through the massive quietness that covered the room.

Demon and companion were utterly speechless, and even Aamon itself, felt the urge to vomit, after seeing what became of the one supposed to be the purest angel of God. Now realizing that something different was just born.

Something dangerous.

An existence to be feared.

Hit after hit, followed by one more

And another one

Then the last one

And all that was left was Becca’s body, now fully inhabited by the character of Nezariel, the memories of both existences, and a new will.

Nezariel’s face was bloody, such as her body, all stained and splattered with blood.

Her eyes were now coloured with a wild tone of red, blue, and black, as if chaos permeated her whole essence.

“Are you happy now, Aamon?” she asked, nonchalantly. “Now, since you don’t intend to fight me over some rotten meat, can you tell me what are you doing with my twin’s next shell?”

PROLOGUE - END