The Angel, the Vampire, and the Demon

Chapter Two- The Angel's Home

 Abrariel followed the Angel to a room down the hallway, very aware that the house was becoming brighter with sunlight. The Angel opened the door and stepped in, Abrariel started to follow but the Angel stopped him with a hand to his chest. The Angel's hand was warm. Life Angel  Abrariel thought. Jeremiah had told him about them once. They were Angel's full of light, love, and goodness, never to commit a Sin. The hand on his chest was the one with the brand, this Angel had committed a Sin, Abrariel didn't get time to see what one before the hand was lowered. 

 "The room is full of sunlight, let me close the curtains and windows before you enter," the Angel murmured heading into the room.

 Abrariel nodded mutely, right then all he could think of was sleep and food, the Angel called from within the room, "you can come in now!"

 Abrariel headed inside the dark room. There was a queen-size bed in the middle of the room made up with a feather soft white quilt and pillows, while the headboards he could see were brown. Next to the bed were two wooden bedside tables simply carved, each had a white topped lamp sitting atop it. There was a dresser on one side of the room with a wall mirror above it, framed in gold. And there was a whitewood door on the right wall, a window was on either side of the bed, curtains drawn tight to block the sunlight. 

 "What's behind the door?" Abrariel asked turning to the Angel who had walked over to him and lent on the door frame.

 "The bathroom," was the answer, "it's dark in there too."

 Abrariel went and sat on the bed, thinking of blood, he felt his fangs nick his bottom lip and blood entered his mouth, his stomach rumbled. He looked up at the Angel who was watching him, wings folded behind his back.

 "What about food?"

 "I have to go and get it," the Angel apologized, looking away and letting his wings droop an inch, "just try and get some sleep in the meantime," he added leaving the room.

 Abrariel got under the quilt, it was softer than anything he had slept on, and he liked the large bed. So much room! Much different from his narrow bed he had had at home. However, even though the bed was soft, he couldn't sleep, no matter what he did. He tried to stop thinking of blood and just sleep, but he couldn't, he was way to hungry. He groaned and rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling his stomach rumbling loudly, begging to be filled. His mouth felt very dry, like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth. He needed blood, and he needed it now!

 Abrariel didn't know how long he had been there, on his back, looking at the white roof and listing to his stomach when the door of his room opened, and the Angel came in with a large glass bottle in his hands. It larger than the milk bottles he was used to, and was filled almost to the top with crimson-coloured blood. Abrariel sat bolt upright like he had been shocked; he snatched the bottle from the Angel when it was in reach. He ripped the lid off the top and started gulping it down greedily, little streams of blood running down his chin and dripping onto the quilt, staining it crimson. The sudden copper tang of the blood sharpened his senses and made him long for more.

 The Angel pulled the bottle away gently. "Easy there, you will make yourself sick," he murmured letting Abrariel catch his breath a little bit, out of habit, before giving the bottle back to him. 

 When Abrariel finished he looked at the Angel, "thank you,' he muttered, the words felt strange on his tongue when uttered to this stranger. He looked at the quilt, "sorry about the quilt."

 "Don't worry about it, I can wash it. Now, there is more in the fridge but out there is flooded by sunlight, I will bring more to you in a few hours. In the meantime, get some sleep," the Angel murmured heading to the door, the now empty bottle with him.