Angel of Fire - Chasing Destiny - Book Three ***COMPLETE!!!***

Reign of Chaos

Chapter 34

The cloudless night and the ink black sky allowed for a perfectly unobstructed aerial view of Business 131. I followed the deserted roadway heading South, until it intersected with the corner of Mosel and Burdick on the outskirts of town.

Parked right out in front of an unassuming two story brick building, I had zero to no problem locating the object of my desire. Or maybe, just maybe, the 24 hour flood light monitoring system of the Township of Kalamazoo's Northwood Fire Department had a little something to do with it.

I descended out of the sky, flying low to the ground as I headed directly toward a newly raked pile of dried leaves in an attempt to safely dislodge my involuntary cargo without the act of dropping it turning into some kind of crude air-to-ground missile strike.

Sensing I was about to let go, the priest dug his fingernails deep into my arms with what could only be described as a death grip.

So much for faith.

I didn't have time to debate the many disadvantages of allowing me to perform another one of my highly executed, yet extreme precision crash landings. I mean, kidnapping a priest was bad enough. I sure as hell didn't want to wipe out with him in tow. Even if I had asked for forgiveness in advance. There wasn't enough Hail Mary's to possibly absolve me from hurting a man of the cloth.

So I decided to do what I do best.

Without a single word of warning, I threw caution to the wind and let the profanities fly. "I'm not a fucking bird. I have no fucking clue what I'm doing. Vycandor can kiss my ass for making this shit look easy. God, please don't let me kill a priest." I decided to throw that last one in for good measure.

As it turns out, without worrying about concentrating on the mechanics of pulling off the perfect landing, I ended up slowing my frantically beating wings to a few circular flaps, straightened my body until I was in an upright position more or less, and slowly guided my feet until they gently touched the ground.

I smiled to myself. "Nailed it!"

The priest stood gingerly on the ground with his back still pressed up against my chest as he nervously peeled his fingernails out of my forearms. When he turned around to face me, I followed his rapidly blinking eyes to the yellow pus that oozed out of ten quarter-of-an-inch-deep curved puncture marks in my arms. Seconds later, we continued to watch as the pus simply dried up and the marks continued to heal so completely, until the skin on both forearms was just a shade pinker than my normal ivory-snow complexion.

"You may be an angel," the priest began with an almost inaudible whine, accompanied by a grief stricken look in his eyes when they finally met mine, "but you've got a mouth on you that would make even a hardened sailor weep."

I knew he didn't mean it as a compliment, but I pretended it was all the same. "Gee, thanks. It's better than a face-plant any day. And when it comes right down to it, angels heal. Priests don't."

When he didn't offer a rebuttal, I figured I'd won that battle.

Point for me.

My attention returned to the fire station and the two trucks parked underneath the flood lights, both painted a brilliant fire-engine red. Multiple high-pressure water hoses snaking back and forth across the concrete parking lot made it appear as if the trucks were in the process of being dutifully cleaned when the first wave of attacks happened without warning. Keeping the entire fleet in pristine operating condition was just another mundane part of any firefighters job. The men and women of Firestation #1 put their lives on the line every day to save others. The really, really shitty part was that, as grown adults, they never expected their own lives to end. Especially at the hands of teenagers, no less.