Angel Hunter

Chapter 4: Storm Warning

AISLINN

Aislinn hurriedly packed a bag, grabbing only a few things. She had on a jacket and jeans with her boots. She hugged her uncle goodbye and then apologized. His eyes widened as she knocked him out cold. She used a knife, cutting strategically. She winced, but she wouldn't let him be hurt. She escaped, running across the fortress she'd lived her entire life at. She didn't know where she was going, didn't know how to find who she was looking for. She did know what he looked like, but she had no name, no location, nothing else to go on and her memory of him was vague at best. She absently scratched at her collar and moved on, heading in whatever direction suited her. She stuck to back roads and in forests, living off the land and avoiding people. She was aware that the Hunters would be following her, tracking her, hunting her down. She kept moving, barely resting or sleeping. She was dirty and exhausted and not eating as much as she should. She had taken enough to last a few days, but not for weeks of hiking through desolate woods, swamps, river valleys and plains. She couldn't risk someone remembering her and so she kept away from people and campgrounds. Animals were just as dangerous as people. Even if Aislinn was a trained fighter and could use her swrds and knives, it would mean little if she was attacked by an animal with claws or sharp teeth. She'd either bleed to death or get some kind of infection or disease. None of them were pleasant ways to die.

She was traveling through Ohio when she first saw them. A group of Hunters not far from her, obviously trying to cut her off. They did cut her off, managing to cage her in. She still fought them, trying to break free and get away from them. They finally got her tied up enough to handle. They took her back to an old farmhouse. They trussed her up and tied her in the barn. She was in her tanktop now. She'd been searched for weapons which she'd been relieved of upon arrival. All of her things were laid out on a table. Whenever they spoke to her, she fought and bit and spit. She didn't scream when they hit her. She escaped twice before they chained her up to a wooden pole buried ten feet underground and still eight feet above ground. The shackles they had used to chain her up, rubbed the skin on her wrists and ankles raw, leaving blisters and on her wrists, which were much worse, leaving open wounds that continuously bled. When she managed to break one of her captor's nose, they hauled her down, chained her to a ring in the floor and whipped her. She screamed and still they kept whipping her. They whipped her until blackness took over her sight. That night, she woke to an empty barn. She was chained loosely for some reason, and then she realized, she'd broken the chains. She packed her stuff, strapped on her weapons and pulled her thermal back on. She pulled on her boots and was gone. She ran for probably a good fifteen miles before she slowed. She kept moving though, just trying to move away from the Hunters that had tortured her without mercy. She could feel the bruise on her throat where one of them had nearly killed her earlier. Her back was too much of a mess to fix, she just needed to find someplace safe, someplace to hide. She needed to find supernaturals, and soon.

She walked for two days straight before her exhaustion and her injuries forced her to a stop. She was close to a campground when she stopped. She snuck in and searched for a first aid kit. She took what she needed and left what money she had and a note, hoping they wouldn't mind, or could forgive her use of their supplies. She trekked on another mile and then stopped to treat her wounds. Her ankles were okay, but her wrists and back were in bad shape. She stopped near a river and poured water over her back. She screamed outright, and realized how badly she was hurt when the pain intensified. It abated finally. She covered what she could and then napped for an hour or two. She kept on moving further, going south toward Missouri. She was moving much slower, but she couldn't go faster. She was too hurt still. It took her a week and a half to make it partway into Missouri since she'd left Ohio. It was a lot of ground to cover in such a short time, especially in her condition.

It took another three days to reach mid- Missouri. She was forced to stop there for awhile. It was early afternoon, and she didn't realize it, but a storm was coming.

She woke to hear the heavy footsteps of a beast. She wasn't fast enough to avoid the claws that ripped into her body. She cried out, but readied herself. She grappled with the beast, earning herself slashes and then returning the favor. When she finally managed to kill it, she nearly dropped her sword. Claws had cut the flesh on her side to ribbons and three parallel lines ran just above her right breast, shredding her shirt and tanktop underneath and even partially cutting her bra. She grunted with pain, but had to move. Rain was beginning to fall and the wind was ripping throught the trees. It whipped her hair into her face, made trees loose their leaves and sent all kinds of animals scurrying into hiding. She stumbled to a halt when she hit some kind of barrier. It took her a moment, but she pushed through it. She kept going, stumbling along, her balled up thermal pressed to the wound in her side. She struggled to move forward even as the elements raged on. As the lightning finallylit the sky again, she fell, crying out and did not get up.

MICHAEL

Michael was looking around, he realized he was at Arcadia. A storm was there, brewing in full force. It was dark, but the thunder and lightning kept everyone awake. The wind howled and eventually everyone drifted off to sleep, even him. He lived there with the three living Nephilim in North America. They were the closest friends that Michael had due to the circumstances.

He found himself abruptly outside, watching the treeline and the third barrier. He saw the barrier ripple and someone stumbled through, moving slowly and awkwardly, as if in terrible pain. He saw the hair whipping around and realized it was a girl. Her scent was thrust into his face and he couldn't deny it. He couldn't see her face and then lightning cracked the sky, lighting up the field and he saw her. He took everything about her in in a single moment. One, she was absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful, two, she was exhausted and filthy with grime and dirt, three, she was soaking wet and not shivering, four, she was hurt and he could smell her blood from here. He watched her fall...

A cry ripped Michael from his dreams and he jolted upright. A real storm was raging outside, but the doors being flung open told him the Nephilim had heard it too. He instantly pulled on his shoes and headed for the front doors of the school. He was met by the headmaster who looked unsure. Michael strode past him and outside. He was shirtless, but his wings weren't visible. Outside, he unfolded them slightly to shield himself from the rain. He was sprinting headlong across the field and then he reached her. She was twisted in an awkward position, pain suffusing her features. He knelt and brushed her wet hair back. She looked up at him, pain flaring briefly. He didn't see her bag at first and then he did. He didn't care either way. He carefully gathered the girl into his arms, pulling her close. His moved gently, but with a purpose back to the school. The nurse was awake now, eyes wide and terrified when she saw the girl. Michael wordlessly passed the woman to the infirmary. He was already settling her on the bed, seeming to know that her back was injured. He worked with the nurse as they systematically stripped her filthy clothes from her body. The nurse gasped when they caught sight of her back and side. Michael was thorough though, checking all of her. Her neck and face were bruised, ankles covered with minimal scarring. Her wrists were ringed with thick scabs and scarring. Another clawing was visible just above her chest. They dealt with her front first and then her back. Michael sighed and brushed his fingers over her wounds. It was absolutely horrific. Michael had realized what the lines were from. She'd been tortured, and as he wiped blood away with his fingers, he found the tattoo on her shoulder blade. She had been a Hunter. The marks on her body told him clearly that wasn't the case anymore. They washed the dirt from her skin as they worked. Michael healed her scabbed over ankles and wrists and as much of the lashings as he could, but he had limitations. Angels couldn't heal scars, they were already healed. Michael regretted that he could do nothing, more. Her breathing was faint, but steady as he worked. Finally the nurse moved aside to wash out her hair and check for wounds. She turned the girl on her uninjured side and Michael leaned forward, brushing his lips just below her collar bone, burning away any infection in her body in an instant. The nurse was finishing washing out the girl's hair when she stopped. She was drying the girl and she froze.

"Michael." He looked up to see what the nurse was looking at. He brushed her hair away and saw the two silvery stars behind her ear. He looked up at the nurse in shock for a minute, before the girl's breathing changed and her eyes flew open.