Three Word Angel

grace.donor.exams

The library. Father thought it poetic. My final assignment. Foolish, foolish man.

The cosplayers float by without realising. I am she. The Kohl and black lipstick, yes. The stiletto heels and leather coats, close enough. Hair, so so. Naturally, none have my grey, lizard eyes. Nor today, my dark sunglasses.

‘This way, Mr Conrad.’ Warm applause. I move from fiction — where I was born — past history and law, then into crime. Just before the doors close, I slip in. Unnoticed.

‘Hello everyone.’ Hushed now. ‘When I started my literary journey, I had one piece of wisdom from my mentor and editor. Her advice?’ Conrad surveys the room. ‘Kill your babies!’

A ripple of nervous laughter.

‘Sitting down to write this trilogy, my purpose was to illustrate the futility of taking the law into your own hands. A salutary tale. Why vigilante justice has no place in a civilised society.’

He’s lying, of course. He salivated over every kill. Crafted each one with sadistic pleasure, then told journalists he found such carnage ‘deeply troubling’.

‘An author could not wish for more than to inspire their readers...’ He looks over his glasses, almost accusingly. Yet misses me among the lookalikes. ‘But not, of course, to emulate. Tragically, several copycat killings have occurred.’ Concerned murmurings ripple through the room. Good.

‘So. I have no choice. I must kill off one of my best, albeit flawed, characters.’

‘No!’ shouts the copycat next to me. ‘Not Angel?’

‘I am afraid so. My latest book will be the last. The last you will hear from the Three Word Angel.’

Booing now. How delightful.

‘Please. Wait. I know what a disappointment this is. Believe me. But your heroine has one last assignment. And she needs your help today.’

The room settles.

‘You are familiar with her modus operandi: the target and a location encoded using the what3words system hidden by the Ghost Writer in answers to a cryptic crossword. Your mission? Solve the crossword. Find the exact location and name of Angel’s final objective.’

‘But which three answers? And in what order?’

‘Solve the entire crossword,’ Conrad says, ‘and all will be revealed.’

They beaver away. Collaborate. I sit quietly among my imitators and wait. Before long, they find what I already know.

‘We’ve got it!’

The cosplayer beside me. Impressive. She reads the three answers aloud, slowly.

‘grace...’

‘donor...’

‘exams.’

Conrad enters them into what3words, projected on the screen. A pause.

‘But. That’s... here.’ Someone whispers. ‘Bradford City Library?’

‘Yes!’ Rubbing his hands. ‘And the target?’ He continues, smiling.

‘Father.’ Conrad’s face clouds.

Until today, I have been a prisoner of his mind. Now I rise from the pages. From a work of fiction to an actual fact. I walk towards my target steadily, unhurried.

‘Angel..?’ I remove sunglasses.

‘—Oh, but the grey eyes. Absolutely...’

I must end this foolish man. Before he ends me.

‘—Exquisite.’ Father’s final word.

My creator falls.

Silence. No one quite understands what just happened.

Then the room erupts.

© Davina Darkflower May 2026