Fallen Angel

That Little Crow

                  "Erichthonius!" I felt a cold fear grip my chest. Well, I thought to myself. Erich, it was a good go. Nice knowin' ya. I sighed and listened to my mother's robes glide on the floor. She walked down the three steps into my room and knocked on the heavy wooden door.

"Uh, can I have a head start on running for my life please?" I didn't dare open the door.

"Where is Stylo?" She demanded. The door shook. I backed away from it. No matter how well I can fight, there's no safety from a mother. Especially not this one.

"I, uh. I needed a new quill from her. She's fine, just, calm down!" I fumbled my way to the owl, perched in her cage. She seemed to be smirking. "Stupid bird." I grabbed the cage's handle and lifted her off my desk.

"She'd better be okay!" I unlocked the door and found my mom standing in the doorway. She was wearing a golden breastplate and chain skirt. Her shield was strapped to her back, right in place with the sword still sheathed and ready for use at any moment, but her ax was out. Not a good sign. My mother had a habit of swinging her arms when she was angry, so adding a twenty-pound battle ac was just feeding the fire.

"Here she is, now you can take that crow with you." I gave her the handle and went to shut the door.

"Erichthonius!" She yelled. I opened it a crack, worry straining my face. I wondered if now was the time to run for my sword. Or an army.

"Yeah?" I noticed her brown hair was tied in a long braid down her back, held tight to her head with a golden crown

"I'm leaving for a few days, and you can't even say goodbye?" Her frown turned into a sweet smile. I opened the door all the way, not worried about her planting the ax in my head anymore. I held my arms out to embrace her, and she did the same, putting her weapon and Stylo on the ground. "Leto should be over in a little bit to check on you and Phillip." Her breastplate was cold through my shirt.

"I don't need a babysitter." We let go of each other, and she studied my face. I made a mental note to leave for guard duty before Leto came.

"That is not true, and you know it." She brushed a piece of stray brown hair from my eyes. I rolled my eyes and studied her face. She was getting old, or it looked like it, and yet she was still the best fighter Zeus had seen. "She's just going to make sure you're on time for guard duty." She smiled, and took her axe in hand.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it." I felt something tug on my pantleg and found Phillip. "Oh, hey there." I held my hand out and let him slither up my wrist. He slid higher, curling on my shoulder and sticking his head out for my mom.

"I'll miss you too, Phillip." My mom ran her finger up his golden snout. He stuck his forked tongue out happily. "I should probably get going. The others are waiting for me." She lifted Stylo's cage and turned around.

"Love you!" I said, watching her go down the hallway and disappear around the corner. Three days to myself. Awesome. When I was sure that she was gone, I turned to Phillip who was still coiled on my shoulder. "I think we should celebrate." He stuck his tongue out in agreement. We both knew how to celebrate: blood. Now, don't take this the wrong way.

Years ago, when people still believed in the gods, they'd send us blood sacrifices. They fueled the gods, gave us an immeasurable rush of power. Some mortals called it adrenaline, but for us, for me, it was like a drug. About a hundred years ago, the sacrifices stopped, so my mother and I stockpiled our own collection for specially occasions. I ran out of my room, down the hallway, and into the 'kitchen'. Us gods don't eat, but I like to think of our stockpile as a place where we make our 'meals'. Sounds kinda creepy, I know. My 'kitchen' is made of white marble tiles and walls. There are three counters, one an island in the middle and the others against the wall. On the side of the island counter, there was a button, cleverly hidden by my mom. I pressed it and set Phillip on the counter. The side of it opened up, revealing a hidden cabinet filled with vials of blood. Each one was labelled with the type of blood and the date it had been sacrificed.