Angel of the Damned

AotD - 3

    Drake stopped at the fourth door on the left and kicked the base a few times, calling to his surrogate son on the inside, “Nathan! Open the door, my hands are full.”

       A man in his twenties opened the door. His short, messy, brown hair accentuated his sunken features and dark circle around his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His crimson eyes stared forward with hunger as he looked down at the angel before he recoiled, covering his mouth with his hand. Drake entered the room, removing the mask from the angel’s face.

       “Holy shit, I, I can’t stay here. Just message me when she’s better,” Nathan said. The helmet of his nanosuit slid up around his face and he moved for the door.

       Drake set the angel down on the couch and turned back to Nathan. He fished a gun clip out of his pack and tossed it over. Nathan snatched the clip out of the air and looked at it.

       “Nathan,” Drake said, “this should be enough for you to get a small blood packet, maybe a cup or two. It won't be particularly fresh but it should curb your thirst.”

       Nathan tapped the clip against his palm. “What happened to no human blood?” His eyes showed just how much he thirsted for a drop of blood.

       “There wasn’t time to drain blood out of the Lycan. If you don’t want human blood you can lick my sword clean,” Drake offered. He removed the sword from his belt and held it out.

       “No, I like my tongue in one piece, thank you very much,” Nathan declined. “Need me to pick up anything else?”

       “She is going to need new clothes eventually, but not right now. Just don’t draw attention to yourself,” Drake said

       “Yeah, yeah.” Nathan waved his hand to Drake and walked out, closing the door behind him.

       Drake turned back to the Angel and shook his head “One of these days, that boy will be the death of me,” Drake sighed. He grabbed his first-aid kit and began to attend to the angel.

***

       Ebony rested on the couch and watched the man called Nathan walk out and turned her attention to the Decator. His amber eyes burned with concern as he knelt beside her with a kit of some sort in his hand. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She reached out for his mind, her mental probes gently touching his conscious. She carefully felt around the edges, searching for any form of mental protection. She found nothing and gently slid into his mind, careful not to alert him to her presence. When she opened her eyes, she stood in a memory realm, surrounded by infinite darkness. Below, her feet rested on a circle of pure white light.

       It's my fault he's like this. I never should have taken him with me. The words rung out in the Decator’s voice, filling the darkness with an image of Nathan for a brief moment. The raw emotion that accompanied the thought battered her. Its strength, which she recognized as regret, threatened to throw her from his mind.

       With a clenching of her fists, a thousand tiny specks of light began to travel through the darkness. She drew a line in the air in front of her and the specks of light rushed to her. They formed a line in front of her. Each light was an orb, roughly the size of an orange with shifting hues, each orb representing a distinct memory. She sent a group of them away -- too early in his life to be the part about Nathan. The lights flew off, receding until they faded into the infinite darkness. Ebony could walk forever in a single direction and she’d never find the edge. She sent away the past two months of memories and was left with a ten-year span. She reached out and gently brushed the edge of a bright white orb. A feeling of euphoria spread through her body, bringing a smile to her lips as she felt a pair of arms wrap around her and gentle lips touch her neck. She pulled her hand away with a gasp. A flick of her hand sent away all of the brightest white memories. She reached out for a pale blue one. It was cool below her fingers and the anguish caused by contact with the orb contorted her face, brought tears to her eyes and nearly dropped her to her knees. She brushed all of the blue orbs away, the distraught memories. She needed a regretful memory. A red memory sent spasms of anger through her, and she brushed them away, wanting to control her emotions. Sifting through the remaining colors, she sent away, the green, envy; the purple, love; and the white rings, suppressed; until three orange orbs remained, still in chronological order. The furthest left was too dull for the pure raw emotion that came through in the thought, and with a flick, it flew away.