Status Updates From Michael (Path of Angels Boo...

Nope

The blond man stood before him, his blue eyes digging into him. Lake dropped his gaze before any emotions could be laid bare this time. “Can I help you?” “I think you’re the one who needs help,” the man replied.

In seventh grade, Lake’s teacher assigned the class to write about a happy moment and give an oral presentation. He had sat in his bedroom, staring at the blank piece of paper. There wasn’t a single happy moment he could recall. The closest was the foreign coin he found, but he felt stupid writing about it. His classmates would laugh at him.

He picked himself up, rubbing his shoulder, and turned to the two bullies, Jason and Vincent Hawthorn. From kindergarten to present day, the brothers had made it their mission in life to torment him. “Hey, Dumb and Dumber.”

One day, while scouring the Internet for answers as to why he sprouted bat-like wings, he stumbled upon the answer. The information had been sparse, but he pieced it together. He was a Nephilim—the son of an angel. Hardly a freak of nature. If anything, Lake was divine.

“Get rid of those things on your back and get ready for school.”

“Too bad you didn’t throw me into a dumpster when I was born and save yourself the trouble of raising me,” Lake shot back. “But then you wouldn’t be getting those nice checks you use to buy more booze, would ya?”

Carefully maneuvering himself so as not to bend the leathery appendages, he turned to his mother. “What?” “Don’t give me lip.” Melody eyed him with contempt. “You’re just like your father. No sense of responsibility while I slave away.” “You’re on disability.”

The boy looked seventeen or eighteen. His skin was pale, almost to the point that it didn’t look healthy. A mass of black curls offset his white skin and hung in his eyes. A faded black shirt hung loosely over his thin frame. His arms were folded tightly across his chest. Holes punctured his jeans, and his shoes were scuffed and worn.

Fallen angels weren’t the only beings Michael and his brothers hunted. They were also tasked with finding their half-breed offspring as well. The children lived among humanity, unaware of the darkness flowing through their veins until their Fallen parent found them and showed them the evil power they possessed.

All his life, Lake had been a loner. From kindergarten through middle school and into high school, his classmates had avoided him. Only bullies interacted with him, and that was to shove him into lockers or his head into toilets.

“I told you when I’m working call me by my stage name, Hawt Chocolate.” “I hate that name,” Lake sighed. “It’s too cliché.”

Eyes that were normally brown glowed red. Black, leathery wings sprouted from his back. The wings reminded him of bats. He hated bats. They scared the crap out of him, but he had no idea why. Long, black talons protruded from his fingertips. His skin, usually pale, looked sunburnt, and the veins under his skin appeared black.

Lake Divine crept past the woman as he crossed the cluttered living room.

Someone has to know. The voice was the same whisper he had heard four years ago. Back then he had assumed it was God speaking, but now he knew better. It was Metatron, the angel tasked with delivering God’s word.