It was difficult to see anything in the alley. Around me, the dripping walls pulsed with intermittent red and blue light from the flashers on the squad car at my back. It was weirdly quiet in here; the high walls around me served to deaden the usual din of the city, replacing it with the steady hiss of rain. I advanced into the darkness, swinging the beam from my torch in broad sweeps; nervous tension lending my motion a cautious, jerky quality - dispatch said this had been called in as a wounded person, but you never really knew what you'd run into in this city. I've known officers to be hurt, or worse, by surprising some scumbag who thought they were safe in the shadows. So I kept my free hand near the gun in my holster, just in case. Cold rain began to soak into my shoulders, which I did my best to ignore.
There was still nothing to see except piles of rubbish and the odd rat scampering away from my torchlight. I turned to my partner, standing back at the mouth of the alley, and made a 'see-saw' gesture with my hand. She would know what it meant - nothing so far, but I wasn't for giving up just yet. Although, in truth, I was beginning to suspect this might be a hoax call. The streets were quiet, as they usually are when the rain is as heavy as this - no sullen gang members peering out from below hooded tops, no dealers, no pimps or streetwalkers or customers; they would be digging their treasures, seeking their pleasures elsewhere tonight. Cars hurried past with no reason to stop, spraying water across the sidewalk.
Still, I had a job to do. I had almost reached the back wall of the alley now; which was piled high with black bags and soggy cardboard boxes, but I still couldn't see anyone. I raised my torch and looked up, raking the beam along the dripping fire escapes, but again came up blank. Rain splattered onto my upturned face and suddenly, I'd had enough. I turned to go, and that's when I heard a weak voice, barely audible above the sound of running water.
“...not fallen...,” I thought it said. I swung the torch around and aimed the beam at where the sound had come from. For a moment, I was frozen with shock. I was certain that there had been nothing there, before - but this time my light revealed the pale form of a man, lying half buried in the mounds of trash. He was turned away from me, his face hidden in the crook of an arm, and he appeared to be naked. His skin was dreadfully pale. None of that was what shocked me, though - that came when I realised this man couldn't possibly be alive. His back was hideously torn; two huge, symmetrical wounds ran from shoulder blades to midriff in a V, exposing bone and glistening tissue within. There was very little blood; the rain must have washed him... he groaned, and that broke my reverie. I kneeled down beside him and turned to signal my partner to get the first aid kit, although I was sure it was futile. I had never seen deeper cuts on a human being outside of an autopsy room.
A hand on my wrist stopped me, amazing in its strength. The wounded man had rolled over, onto his mutilated back, and I looked down at his face. Again, a wave of incredulity swept over me.
He was... beautiful. His eyes were perfectly white and seemed to glow, somehow. His skin could have been hewn from marble. Hair so blonde it was almost white was plastered to his brow. Albino, I thought? Couldn't be - there was no tell-tale pinkness at his eyes, and no pupils at all. His skin was so white it seemed almost translucent - I could see blue veins criss-crossing just under the surface. More, there seemed to be thousands of tiny pinpricks of light moving within him, and he radiated an extraordinary heat. For a second, the man seemed to dim somehow - I imagined I could see through the hand that held me; saw the fabric of my uniform under the fingers, saw the filthy alley floor under the pallor of his body - then he was solid again. I tried to pull away, but he was incredibly strong, despite his injuries.
“Please...do not...,” the man said. He was struggling to speak but his voice was calm, and it seemed untouched by the horrors carved upon his back.
“I have... little time... there is nothing to be done,” he said, “... except to bear witness. I am so tired... I beg thee...,” he said, the rain like tears on his face. The hand on my arm relaxed, and took my own. With his other hand he reached up, and gently placed his palm to my cheek. Something clicked in my mind, and it came to me with absolute, certain clarity - the true nature of the being that held me. Not human; in that I was entirely correct.
This was an angel.
It began to speak again, and I knew in my heart it spoke the truth.
“They call us the fallen ones, but I did not fall. My Lord commanded me, and so it was done. There are thousands of us walking this realm, if only you chose to see.”
Again, that strange sensation of dimming. I was sure I could see through the angel, as if it was fading. I blinked, and it was almost solid once more.
“Our purpose is... to give. No more. Inspiration, love, dreams... hope. So many wonderful things we can do with just a touch,” it said, but its face was drawn down in sorrow.
“But humanity... wasted it. Every gift I could give; every heart I could mend. Eventually, there was nothing left to offer.”
It smiled.
“I thought... hoped... if people could see the truth, they might believe again, that it would change things - so I allowed myself to be seen, as my Lord created me.”
The tears on its face were not from the rain any more as it gestured to the wounds on its back.
“They took blades to me... stole my wings... and laughed as they did it.”
The hand on my face reached behind my neck, and gently pulled me closer. For an instant, I felt its lips at my mouth; tasted the sweetness of its breath.
“But remember me...,” it said, “and they will not have stolen everything.”
I closed my eyes for a second. When I opened them, I was alone, crouched in a dark city alley with rain soaking into my back. Slowly, I got to my feet and headed back to the car. My partner was waiting, obviously bored.
“Anything?” she said.
“Nah. Waste of time,” I replied. She cursed.
“Ah well. That's what we have to put up with. I always imagine things will get better, but... they never do,” she said.
I could still taste the memory of the Angel's kiss on my lips.
“We can always hope,” I said.