My Fallen Demon

Chapter One

DAPHNE

I'm so late.

I pushed through the sea of bodies in an attempt to save myself from the mess that was bound to follow. Of all the days to get stuck in people-traffic, fate chose the most important one of my entire life. The odor of a crowd that needed to be collectively thrown in a tub to rinse off reminded me of one of the reasons why I always arrived at work an hour early. I could glide through the empty and clean halls as quickly and smoothly as an experienced Battle Angel sliced through the air.

My boss, Mr. Frish, had specifically mentioned I was the youngest ever to be appointed a Battle Angel yesterday, with only two thousand years of training. Most angels never climbed so high up in the hierarchy in their lives, usually remaining Archangels or Watchangels. My dream was to become a Seraphin one day, and being promoted to Battle Angel nudged me one step closer to that.

I was highly aware that the only reason I was being promoted was because a war was looming over us all, and more leaders would be needed to guide the angels into battle, but that fact did nothing to diminish my excitement in the slightest bit.

When I was still a toddler wobbling on my two feet, my dad always told me I would make him proud one day, and today would be that day if I managed to either turn back time or make Mr. Frish forgive me for being late to my own promotion ceremony.

And for him to forgive me, what was I to say? I couldn't admit that my older sister by a few centuries was so damn jealous she was still a Watchangel while I was being promoted to a higher rank that she purposely turned off my alarm for this morning. She would teach the young ones in the nursery about our world while I would help fight the demons when we marched into war. Her jealousy was understandable, but she didn't have to be a pain in the neck about it. What was worse, I couldn't even prove my ridiculous statement if I wanted to because, unfortunately for me, a self-satisfied smirk which was now engraved in my memory till death couldn't be considered solid proof.

Although it was not much to be happy about, Mom woke me up a quarter of an hour before I had to be in the office and look presentable, obviously thinking my alarm would go off before that. I didn't have enough time to prepare myself properly. I found a suitable outfit and took a shower—I would rather be a little late than stink and have my hair a bees' nest—in the little time I had. My dark brown hair sat in a frizzy ponytail atop my head. The baby hairs flew in all directions, and I tried my best to flatten them, but to no avail. For once, my outer appearance in the workplace was the least of my worries.

I finally burst out of the crowd. I didn't spare a single glance towards the elegant glass towers which housed the elevators, all too aware that I couldn't afford to waste any more time. If I had to climb fifteen landings, then so be it. I considered myself a fit individual. Well...slightly fit would be a more accurate term. At least the promotion ceremony would not take place on the same floor as my office, situated more than fifty floors above the one I was expected to be at today.

My breath came out in short pants by the second landing. On the sixth floor, I was breathing heavily and gasping for oxygen. The tenth floor benchmark was too much for me, so I took a short break of exactly ten seconds. Just as I thought the torture was over, I found myself leaning over to rid myself of the stitch in my side on the fourteenth floor. And then, I was finally there. The past three minutes were undoubtedly the worst in my life, with the exception of this morning when I woke up only to realize I had slept in.

I didn't allow my aching legs or my brain to protest. As soon as I exited the stairwell on the fifteenth floor, I broke into a sprint. To an onlooker, I would most likely appear as a limping girl who had come straight from a marathon or an angel that returned from the battlefield. I couldn't help but hope they assumed the latter, even though it was far from the truth.