Ten years ago...

The mixture of freshly ground pepper, garlic, paprika, and a myriad of other spices graced Victor's taste buds. He had begged his mother to make his favorite dish for weeks, so he savored every bite.

"More Mofongo, my love?" his mother asked while reaching for a pitcher of water. Victor's dad scooped up a spoonful of the crushed plantain and then delicately dipped it in the surrounding chicken broth. He gave his wife a nod before sticking his fork into the fried pork, sizzling on an enormous silver platter.

As tradition, Jamiroquai was playing softly in the background. Victor was unbothered. Even his dad's horrendous taste in music couldn't put a damper on such a perfect evening.

Victor beamed at the completed Batmobile Lego set lying on the living room carpet. He welled up with pride, choosing to move past the fact that his father did most of the work.

"Mi cielo, what do you think we're having for dessert?" his mother asked.

He slurped up a spoonful of the chicken broth. His eyes moved upward as he contemplated. "Dulce de Coco?"

"Ding, ding, ding!" his mother exclaimed. She stroked his long curly hair and flashed her signature smile.

***

Present day...

Victor awoke to the sight of eggshell-white ceiling tiles. He lay there in silence, staring at them. There was a dull pain in his chest, and his throat was excruciatingly dry. His eyelids felt heavy, so he closed them, praying for a dreamless sleep. The janitor's crimson-red eyes materialized from the darkness. He abruptly sat up, a bead of sweat trickling down his cheek.

Connor was to his left, sleeping in a chair with one of his dad's jackets draped over him.

"How are you feeling?" his dad asked.

"Thirsty," Victor whispered. The hoarseness of his voice gave him goosebumps. The hospital gown's fabric felt rough on his skin, and there was a crick in his neck and shoulders. His dad sprung up and bustled to the bathroom, returning seconds later with a cup of water.

"Don't drink it too fast," his father said. But Victor's thirst was too great to care. He guzzled it down so quickly that he almost choked. After catching his breath, he let out a thunderous belch. The water was warmer than he would have liked, but it soothed his dry throat and gave him a jolt of energy.

"Excuse me," Victor said. He almost sounded like himself again.

He felt eyes on him.

Victor turned to see Connor wide awake with a wisp of a smile across his face.

"The doctor said you have a bruised rib and a couple of nicks here and there," his father said. "We won't know when you'll be able to come home until you get reevaluated." His eyes moved to the top of Victor's head. "Maybe you'll cut your hair now?"

Victor ran his fingers through his dreadlocks, feeling for the bald spot. He forced a chuckle. "I'll think about it."

Connor hung the jacket on the back of his chair, exposing the bandage tightly wrapped around his forearm. Victor recalled the cigarette butt lying on the grass next to Connor's squirming body.

Victor's dad alternated glances between Connor and his son. "I'm going to check in with the nurse. We'll talk about these muggers who attacked you later."

"Thanks for the Jacket, Mr. Au," Connor said.

"You're welcome," Mr. Au said before leaving the room.

"How's your arm?" Victor asked.

"It'll heal. Uh, listen—"

"Who are you?"

Connor straightened his posture. "I would say you may want to sit down for this, but..." Victor's face was stone. Connor cleared his throat. "I'm an angel. Or rather, I was an angel."

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

"Excuse me?"

"God sent me here to monitor your growth." Victor stared right through him. He waited for the punchline, but it never came. Connor smiled nervously, showing his two front teeth. "I came from Heaven to monitor the development of the first human-angel hybrid."

"You really expect me to believe that you're an angel?"

"I was an angel. I'm one-hundred percent human now."

Victor felt light-headed. He used his pointer finger and thumb to gently rub the top of his forehead. He then peered into Connor's sapphire-blue eyes. They were as still as a backwater. "You're telling the truth, aren't you?" Connor responded with a nod. Victor leaned back and rested his head on the unyielding recovery room pillow. Human-angel hybrid... "So, my mom was an angel."

"I never specified which parent—"

"I know it was her." She had a glow. A special something that separated her from everyone else.

Victor closed his eyes. Memories of his mother flooded his mind. He latched on to the time they sat on the roof, watching the stars. He could almost hear her melodious voice naming the constellations. Victor opened his eyes and glared at the bandages wrapped around Connor's forearm. "So, you were just keeping tabs on me this whole time? Were we ever actually..." The word refused to come out.

"Friends?" Connor sat down. He scratched at the stubble on his chin. "I apologize for the deception, but it had to be done. I doubt you—or anyone for that matter—would have befriended someone who claimed to be an angel on their first meeting. I can say with complete certainty that I view you as a true friend." Victor turned his head, hiding a faint smile. "I've even grown to tolerate your lack of emotional maturity," he added facetiously.

"Hey, watch it."

"Sorry."

Victor tried to soak it all in. This talk of angels exhausted him, and the top of his head itched.

The hospital staff scurried in and out of the nearby rooms. The rising sun cast an orange glow on his bed. "What was with all that flipping and shit?" He paused. The janitor's red eyes and jittery movements played like a movie in his mind. "And what the hell was that thing back there?"

"Well, since my mission is to monitor you, it seemed necessary that I learn how to defend myself and you from any potential dangers. As for the demon that attacked us—"

"Demon? You're telling me demons are real, too?"

"Demons have always existed. But they were rarely, if ever, violent. I saw him following you, and his strange aura alarmed me. His red eyes confirmed my suspicions."

"Auras are real?" What am I talking about? Nothing should surprise me at this point.

Connor smiled. "All living beings emit an aura."

Victor was reminded of Summer's gleaming amethyst stone wrapped in thin gold wiring. "What color was it?"

"There are some humans who can see the colors present in a person's aura. I—on the other hand—can only see its shape."

"What did it look like?"

"Prickly and malformed. A human's aura is in the shape of a smooth outline around the body. I knew something was strange the moment I saw his. He must have gotten possessed recently, since I'm pretty sure I would have noticed a demon roaming the halls."

Victor clenched his hand to form a fist. "I punched his head clean off. What the hell was that about?"

"I don't know how or why you exhibited those abilities. It's probably related to your angelic ancestry."

"So I have, like, superpowers?"

Connor leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "I suppose that's one way to put it."

"I wonder what else I can do." Images of men in tight spandex defeating shadowy figures danced around in his head. "So... what now?"

"Now we wait for you to finish healing."

"I bet you have a bunch of stuff to report back to... wait, who sent you here?"

"God sent me. And I won't be reporting anything until I die." Victor raised an eyebrow. Connor's gaze moved to the window near the bed. "Once my soul returns to the higher plane, I'll relay all that I have learned to the angel that assigned me this mission." He looked back at Victor. "I have never actually met God."

"What? I thought when you die he welcomes you into Heaven or some shit." Connor shook his head. Victor didn't know how to feel about that. He never put much consideration into life after death, outside of a fleeting thought here or there. "What's Heaven like?"

Connor looked upward, a radiant smile stretching across his face. "It's indescribable."

"That's not an answer."

"I literally can't describe it. It's something beyond human comprehension."

"Okay, last question. Actually, you know what, screw that. I'm probably never gonna stop asking questions, but I'm getting tired so they'll have to wait."

Connor stretched, lifting his long arms high above his head.

"How did my mom come back to earth?"

"I don't know. No one does."

"How did you find out about me, then?"

"I thought you said that was your last question?"

"Shut up," Victor jabbed.

"I don't know how they found out about you. I was only told to monitor your growth." Connor wrapped his arms around his stomach, his face suddenly full of anguish.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm starving."

Victor roared. He laughed so hard that his chest ached afterwards. "I doubt you'll find any Pop-Tarts here."

***

Victor woke up to the sight of a man dancing on the TV. He wore a bright yellow suit, hopping about as animated dollar signs swirled around him. When did I fall asleep?

Connor was slumped in his chair, snoring. Chocolate icing encrusted the corners of his mouth.

Victor's ears perked up at the sound of a breaking news story. He turned his attention back to the TV and noticed his father seated at a nearby table, picking at a donut—powdered sugar coating his finger tips.

"The body was found near the Salem meat processing plant. The victim was twenty-two-year-old Robert Shaw. We have no details on the cause of death, but we speculate that foul play was involved..."

His dad shook his head. "So young."