Midnight draped Los Angeles in its velvet shroud, studded with the lights of skyscrapers. I hovered above the city, gazing at this splendor of human progress, feeling every living soul below—their joys, sorrows, fears, and hopes. After destroying Beelzefor and his minions, demonic activity in the city had decreased, but people continued to suffer for entirely earthly reasons.
That was why I found myself on the roof of a fifty-story skyscraper in the financial district. On the very edge, legs dangling over the abyss, sat a man. About thirty, in an expensive but rumpled suit. Blond hair disheveled, eyes red from tears. A storm of despair, pain, and hopelessness raged in his soul.
I materialized a few steps away, taking human form. An ordinary blond in a dark coat, nothing unusual. Only his eyes, if you looked closely, were too ancient for such a face.
"Not the best place for reflection," I said calmly, stepping closer.
The man flinched and turned. His face twisted with fear and anger.
"Get lost!" he rasped. He was a little drunk. "Security? How the hell did you get up here?"
"The same way you did." I sat on an air duct nearby, at a safe distance. "Though our goals seem different."
"My goal is crystal clear." He turned back to the edge. "And no one's stopping me."
"Daniel," I said his name softly.
He froze.
"How do you know my name?"
"Daniel Harrison, thirty-two, financial analyst at Golden Coast Investments. Wife Sarah, daughter Emily, seven years old." I spoke gently, simply stating what I knew. "Three months ago, you lost all your family savings investing in fake stocks. Last week, the bank started foreclosure on your house. Today, Sarah filed for divorce and took Emily to her mother's."
Daniel slowly turned to me, his face pale.
"You… you a private detective? Who hired you?"
"No one." I looked at the city lights ahead. "Just someone who cares."
"Bullshit," he tried to smirk, but it came out bitter. "No one cares anymore. My wife hates me. My daughter doesn't understand why Daddy doesn't live at home anymore. Work…" He waved a hand. "They're firing me tomorrow. Debts are unpayable. I'm a loser, and everyone knows it."
"So you think jumping will solve everything?"
"It'll end my suffering," he said bitterly. "Sarah and Emily will be better off without me. The insurance will cover the debts, and they can start over."
I shook my head.
"Daniel, have you ever seen what happens to a family after a loved one's suicide?"
"What… what do you mean?"
"Your daughter will spend her whole life thinking it was her fault. That she wasn't good enough for Daddy to stay." My voice stayed calm, but every word struck true. I knew what I was talking about. I'd seen it. "She'll blame herself for not saying something important that last day. For not hugging you tighter."
Daniel flinched, his hands trembling.
"No, she… she'll understand…"
"Seven-year-olds don't understand financial crises. They understand one thing: Daddy chose death over them." I turned to him. "And Sarah? She'll blame herself for filing for divorce. For not supporting you in a tough time. That guilt will eat her alive for years."
"Stop!" he shouted, covering his ears. "Stop!"
"You think you're sacrificing yourself for them. But you're dumping your pain on the shoulders of those you love most."
Daniel doubled over, shoulders shaking with sobs.
"I don't know what else to do," he whispered. "I ruined everything. Everything I touched turned to ruins. I'm a bad husband, a worthless father…"
"A mistake doesn't define a person, Daniel." I moved closer and reached out, gently touching his shoulder. Through the touch, he felt a drop of divine warmth—not healing, just comfort. Just warmth. "One bad investment doesn't erase years of love and care. Seven years of reading Emily bedtime stories. All those evenings holding Sarah's hand, watching the sunset."
"But I lost all our money…"
"Money can be earned again." I spoke quietly but convincingly. "Trust can be rebuilt. Love can be regained. But life… life is given only once."
"Easy for you to say," he wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "You don't understand. I have no job, no money, no home. Sarah won't even talk to me."
"What if I told you tomorrow morning you'll get a job offer from a new firm?" I smiled. "Sterling & Partners, a consulting agency. They're looking for an experienced analyst. Salary one and a half times what you had."
Daniel looked at me in disbelief.
"How do you know that?"
"What if Sarah's sitting at home right now, crying because she realized filing for divorce was a mistake made in anger?"
"That's impossible…"
I pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and handed it to him.
"Call her. Check."
"I can't… She won't want to talk to me…"
"Daniel," I looked him straight in the eyes, "listen carefully. Life isn't a series of punishments for mistakes. It's not Hell. It's a series of chances to fix them. Every new day is a chance to be better than yesterday. A chance to say 'sorry,' to say 'I love you,' to start over."
"But how can I look them in the eye after everything?"
"With honesty. With willingness to take responsibility. With the desire to make life better." I stood and offered my hand. "Your family needs a living husband and father who fights for them, not a dead hero."
Daniel stared at my hand for a long time, then at the phone, then at me.
"What if you're wrong? What if she doesn't forgive me?"
"Then at least you'll know you tried. That you didn't give up at the most important moment of your life." I paused. "You know what's worst about suicide? Not the death itself. It's that the person never finds out what would've happened next. What miracles waited tomorrow, next week, next year."
He took the phone with trembling hands and slowly dialed. Long rings, then a familiar voice:
"Dan? Dan, is that you?"
"Sarah…" His voice caught in his throat.
"Oh my God, where are you? I was so worried! I've been calling all evening, but you didn't answer…"
"I… I thought you wouldn't want to talk to me…"
"Dan, we need to talk. This afternoon… I was furious, said a lot of stupid things. Divorce… that's not what I meant. We'll get through this together, you hear? Together. Just…"
Daniel cried—but these were different tears.
"Sarah, I love you so much. I'll fix everything, I swear…"
"Come home," she whispered through tears. "Emily's asking where Daddy is. She misses you."
He ended the call and looked at me with tear-glazed eyes.
"How did you know?"
I helped him stand and led him away from the edge. He was shaking.
"Because love doesn't vanish in a day. And true love can forgive even the worst mistakes." I placed a hand on his shoulder. Warmth filled his body. "Go home, Daniel. Hug your wife and daughter. Tomorrow, start a new life."
"Thank you," he shook my hand firmly. "Thank you for stopping me. What's your name?"
"That doesn't matter. What matters is you'll wake up tomorrow next to your family."
Daniel headed for the roof door but turned halfway.
"And the job? At Sterling & Partners?"
"Call them tomorrow at ten a.m. Ask for Margaret Sterling. Tell her you're the analyst she's looking for."
He nodded and disappeared through the door. Minutes later, I saw him exit the building and hail a cab. Despair was gone from his soul—only hope and resolve remained.
One more soul saved.
I spent the rest of the night walking the streets of Los Angeles. In human form, observing the city's nightlife. The homeless around trash-can fires, late-night bar patrons, nurses rushing to night shifts. Each carried their story, their struggles, their dreams.
All day I walked, wandered, and searched.
Sometimes just to watch. To think, to reflect. Sometimes I stopped to help. Guided a lost teen to the nearest shelter—now he wouldn't fall victim to robbery. Slipped a hundred-dollar bill, materialized from thin air, into a hungry mother's hand with her child—now she wouldn't kill that teen a few blocks away. Prevented a fight between two drunk men by stepping between them and saying one word: "Peace." Now two lives saved—one from death, one from Hell for murder.
People noticed nothing unusual. To them, I was just a kind stranger, coincidentally in the right place at the right time. Just a nice guy who helped.
Sunset found me in Griffith Park, on a hill overlooking the city. I sat on a bench, watching the first rays paint the skyscrapers gold. Somewhere down there, Daniel Harrison lay beside his wife, their daughter climbing into bed for hugs.
At that moment, I felt an approach.
A familiar aura, powerful and ancient, but not hostile. Angelic power, racing toward downtown at tremendous speed. I looked up and saw a glowing point in the sky, streaking toward Earth. Humans didn't notice, but I did. I recognized my brother.
Amenadiel.
My angel brother, one of the Father's firstborn at creation's dawn, a thinker and observer. A warrior. He descended from the heavens with purpose—it couldn't be coincidence. Not after Beelzefor.
I rose from the bench and spread my wings, invisible to human eyes. Strokes lifted me into the air, and I followed Amenadiel, keeping my distance.
He landed downtown, beside a tall building with a neon "LUX" sign on the roof. Lucifer's club. Of course. Where my younger brother spent most of his time, playing the role of entertainment mogul.
I hovered above the building and watched Amenadiel, in human form—a tall Black man in heavenly robes—enter through the main doors. Staff didn't blink at his odd appearance. Extravagant guests, including angels, were apparently routine at Lux.
So he wasn't here for demons. Curiosity won. I descended to the roof and materialized, cloaking my presence with invisibility. A technique all Archangels knew, but I'd perfected over millions of years. Even other Archangels couldn't detect me unless they searched.
Descending the fire escape, I slipped into the club through a service door. Inside, a strange atmosphere—time had slowed. The bartender froze mid-glass-wipe, a cleaner stood still with mop in hand, late patrons sat motionless like statues. Only Maze moved freely, ignoring everyone, downing alcohol. Hm, once a pure soul of Heaven, turned demon after falling and reborn by her mother's hand—my brother's aide. Lilith's daughter. She'd followed him, clearly. Interesting.
A time bubble. Amenadiel had frozen time locally to speak with Lucifer alone. Why?
I passed between frozen figures to the club's center, where my two brothers sat at a table.
Lucifer, holding two glasses of liquor, looked as I expected. Tall, elegant, dark hair, mocking smile. Changed his look? Expensive suit, perfect hair, an aura of confidence. But I saw deeper—behind the altered appearance hid what he showed no one: pain in his eyes, weariness from millennia of exile, longing for home he'd never admit aloud. Sadness.
"Oh, Amenadiel," Lucifer drawled, settling into a leather chair. "How are you, big guy? Huh?"
"Lucifer." Amenadiel stood before him, wings physically manifest. "You're ordered to return to Hell."
"Oh, sure—" Lucifer set the glasses on the table. "Let me just check my weekly planner."
He rummaged in his suit, searching. Amenadiel watched silently, but I saw in his soul this act was familiar.
"Yes, here it is," Lucifer said, pulling out an empty hand. "How about the seventh-of-never or the fifteenth-go-to-hell?"
I smiled. Oh, brother, you always loved riling your younger siblings over nothing. Toying with their feelings. I was glad that hadn't changed. But Amenadiel didn't appreciate the wordplay. Everything around began to glow faintly—showing my dutiful younger brother was a bit angry.
"That work?" Seeing the silence drag, Lucifer continued. "Listen. Remind Daddy I left Hell because I was sick of playing a role in his soap opera."
Crude, but Lucifer echoed my own feelings. We were alike in that. Amenadiel took it as insolence.
"You shouldn't speak of the Father so dismissively, Lucifer."
He smiled and sipped whiskey.
"Who's talking? Father's been dismissing me since the beginning of time. A bit unfair, don't you think?"
He doesn't dismiss you, brother. He just sees your mind is different. And forgive me, Father, He doesn't know what to do with you. You're not like the rest. Your desires… I wish I could say this to His face. Not yet. The conversation continued.
"You… are a parody of all that is holy." Amenadiel couldn't hold back, but Lucifer wasn't offended. Rather…
"Thank you." He sincerely accepted the words. "Thank you, but… Lately, I've been thinking. Do you think I'm the Devil because of some innate flaw, or because our dear Daddy decided so?"
Lucifer stared into Amenadiel's eyes, testing his faith.
"What do you think happens if the Devil leaves Hell?" Lucifer smirked, not taking his brother seriously. Amenadiel suddenly grabbed his hands, pulling him close, face inches away. "All those demons… all those tormented souls… Where do you think they'll go?"
Up, apparently, since I'd already judged a few hundred. And that was just a drop in the ocean.
"Don't know. Don't care. It's not my problem, little brother." Lucifer smiled into Amenadiel's confused face as he stepped back. "Consider my position vacant."
He sipped whiskey, smiling. Interesting. He continued.
"And you, my feathered friend, can go straight to Hell." In an instant, desire and rudeness were punished. Amenadiel's wing pressed dangerously close to his brother's human throat. He'd crossed the line of what a Silver City warrior would tolerate. He didn't hurt him, of course, but made him listen.
Lucifer laughed and said,
"Go ahead, try it. Think Daddy will let you get away with that?" Amenadiel began to chuckle, realizing Lucifer was baiting him into sin. Into falling. My eldest younger brother hadn't been in the Silver City in ages, no longer a typical Archangel, but the Father's Rules still applied. He withdrew the sharp wing.
"You know… He won't always be merciful to you."
He knew what that meant. He knew the Father still watched. Those words were truer than ever, and they wiped the smile from my brother's face. Leaving Lucifer with them, Amenadiel exited the club. Seconds later, the time bubble dissolved, and life in Lux resumed. The bartender continued wiping the glass, the cleaner returned to work, patrons unaware time had stopped.
Lucifer sat alone. I watched a bit longer as he stood, sat at the piano in the center, and began to play. I thought it'd be something cheerful. But the music carried notes of sadness.
Standing in the shadows, watching my younger brother, I peered into his essence. His soul churned with emotions—longing for the home he left millions of years ago, love for the new life he'd built on Earth, and something else… hope. Hope that change was possible. That even a fallen angel could find redemption.
Interesting. All these years, I'd seen Lucifer as a proud, stubborn rebel who chose exile over submission to the Father. But now I saw something else. Not stubbornness, not pride—just a lost brother searching for his place in the universe. His home. Not knowing where he belonged.
Pity, my brother. How you misunderstand your pain. But it's not time yet.
I left Lucifer and followed my other brother. I wanted to see what the Angel of the Lord would do in this city.
***