Chapter 7: “Angel of Vision”
Paschar licked her lips and smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress as she stepped over the body, closing the door behind her. The electricity from his soul caused her entire body to pulsate and the blue in her eyes to shine bright. The fresh human essence had her entire body shaking, like one giant orgasm bursting from every crevice of her body. She wanted to run, jump, leap into the air. Travel the planets and back down again. Her prowess and senses were magnified after each hit. Pas walked with confidence; her head held high as she moved her hips from side to side. Red was her most favorite color to wear with this skin. Something about the hue against this dark body, so different from her real form.
Passerbys, men and women alike, stared. Paschar smiled, they always did. Human’s were fascinated by such blue, crystal pupils against such brown, creamy skin. In real life, Pas thought human bodies were disgusting. She hated the soft, gooeyness of the flesh. How it bruised and bled so easily, how it fell apart and crumbled with each passing day. Pas hated the rotting flesh on bone, but she did come to love dark skin tones. Other pigments didn’t make her heartbeat like melanin. With it, she could extend life in this body and still feel like the angelic entity she was. Every soul she consumed slowed the aging of the body.
Paschar entered El Che Steakhouse and Bar restaurant and followed the ray of blue that led to the booth in the corner where six women with blue eyes sat, smiling and their ethnicities ranged from Korean to European, and from Hispanic to Japanese. None of them were black like her. Only she had the privilege of wearing African skin.
Pas snapped her fingers, causing the patrons to freeze in their places. Forks, spoons, and knives floated in the air, waitresses stopped in mid-step with full trays, children’s smiles were pasted on their faces, and people’s heads were buried in their cell phones.
“Hello, ladies. By the look in your eyes I can tell you’re feeling what I’m feeling,” she smiled, shimming her hips. The women laughed.
“Indeed,” said the Korean woman, slapping high-fives with the woman next to her.
“Don’t get too excited. Az is on our trail.”
The Puerto Rican blew a breath, “Su problema.”
“Pain in my ass,” complained the Japanese woman.
“You need to eat,” continued Pas. “More than usual. Keep your energy up. Men, women. I don’t care what you have to do, eat and live. The stronger the worship, the stronger we are in battle. The more you eat, the stronger you’ll be if something goes down. You need to have these people eating out the palm of your hands.
“Or your ass,” laughed the Japanese one and within seconds Paschar’s hand was wrapped around the woman’s throat and choking her up against the wall. She had just had a hit and her energy was strong. The woman squirmed and squealed as her face contorted, revealing snippets of her true mermaid image.
“You have forgotten what is at stake here,” Pas addressed the table. “There is no redemption for us. Semjaza is gone.” She felt the knot rise in her throat and the tears threaten to spill from her eyes at the mention of her leader. Damn human emotions.
“Arakiba,” she continued, giving the names of their leaders, “…is gone. Rameel, Kokabiel, Baraqijal, Armaros, gone. All of them!” Pas slammed her fist against the table and the women jumped. The Japanese woman continued to squirm as she suffocated up against the wall.
“Two hundred of our brethren fell that day.”
Paschar let the Japanese woman go, her human body falling to the floor, coughing and choking.
Pas walked the length of the restaurant, zooming in and out of focus, floating from one end of the room to the next, the anger in her veins amplified by the energy from her last victim.
“Their eternal souls locked away until their essence burns forever.” Her voice grew deeper, and pink wings grew out of her shoulders. “They failed,” she boomed, her voice like thunder. “We will not fail! Rise sistars. Rise!”
The women stood, their ethnicities changing, disfiguring the human flesh, now like clay, and exposing their true images. No longer were they six beautiful women all ranging in skin tones and race. Now Paschar looked into the face of a mermaid, a fairy, a troll, a white-winged horse, a griffin, and an imp. Paschar looked from one creature to the other and she changed too.
Pas real body was light pink and humanoid, resembling that of a woman from the chest down, her face that of a man. Different shaped circles cover her pink body, entry points to absorb energy. Paschar’s hair is dark pink and her feathered wings are light pink like her skin. Her pupils are tiny slits, like that of a snake, shining blue. Light emanates from her, shining a bright pink glow.
Paschar (pu-shar) is her name, angel of vision, once tasked with guarding the veil between the physical world and the heavens, between consciousness and unconsciousness, between awareness and illusion. She once saw the beauty of visions from the Almighty and projected these into human consciousness. Now, she is limited, capable only of seeing physical beauty, extracting energy from mortal man, and projecting illusions. Her authority was stripped from the heavens and placed on that of the Earth.
Paschar reigned over the creatures before her as if she could control them, but the truth was Pas had no real power and she growled in anger and frustration of her circumstance. The fall had weakened her, weakened them, and now there was no chance at redemption. Yah had forsaken them, cast them aside for pieces of rotting flesh. How dare he cast his own from eternal glory and offer it to the beast that is man? The slits in Paschar’s eyes thinned and the blue rays grew wider, brighter.
“Remember who you are,” she growled. The creatures responded by screeching, singing, growling, and shooting fire from their nostrils.
Pas snapped her fingers and the customers unfroze, the creatures turned back into beautiful women, and Pas skin was no longer pink.
The clinging sound of new patrons entering the restaurant sounded and four black men walked in, their eyes already on their table. The seven women smiled, just as beautiful as they were before, and Paschar smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress, licking her lips and marveling at the brown skin.
She didn’t even have to turn around. She saw them first and her stomach growled.
It was feeding time.