Deaths Albino

Heaven's Demons

When the boy woke up, he was strapped down to a hard, cold, metal table. His head felt like someone had smashed it with a hammer when he tried to lift it or look around. As he tugged at the bindings that held him down, pulling harder each time, forming bruises on his slim wrists. It felt like hours before he heard voices coming from the other side of one of the cement brick walls. They sounded somewhat familiar, yet foreign at the same time.

After a few more minutes of eavesdropping on their conversation, the two figures entered the room. One was tall and skeletal with a thin, sheer black cloak, hiding its undefined face, dropped over the ghost white bones that defined it. It held a large, black-handled scythe that looked ready to chop off ahead, the red tint of blood already having stained the edge. The other was a fragile looking man dressed in a pure white suite, gigantic wings spreading from the center of his back, so big that bent at the ceiling. The two were still passing quiet mumbles to each other, the winged one writing on a clipboard. Walking further into the room, one stood on either side, staring down at the shaken up boy.

"Reaper, this boy.......has no soul." The heavenly man's sweet voice sounded frazzled at this, having apparently put a knot in the twos plans.

"That- That's not possible, I could've sworn I made sure no one had gotten to him before us. Damon, what the hell could this mean?!" The Reaper's voice had steadily rose as his hood fell, revealing a very skeletal face, though it wasn't a complete skull, more like the outline of it had been tattooed on his face.

Damon shook his head, placing the keyboard on the seemingly forgotten boy. "I don't know, but this has gotten old. Souls keep disappearing and none of them are being found. The rest were practice, Lunar must have been the target," as Damon spoke the boys name, he slipped a hand under Lunar's black hair, revealing his other eye, only to receive a gutteral growl from the mortal.

The Reaper tugged the Angel's hand away and began to undo the straps that had created dark purple, blue, and green bruises on Lunar's wrists from all of his struggling. "Don't even try to run, boy." The words were a whisper in his ear but screams in his head, making it hurt to nod even more. When the last buckle hit the table with a ringing thud, the albino shot up, instantly regretting it when his world began to spin and he felt the urge to puke. The Reaper and the Angel walked to the door, sharing a glance before opening the door and exiting the room to stand just outside, watching Lunar's actions intently.

His feet hit the checkered tile floor with a soft thump. Without looking around, he sulked out to the hallway that was so clustered that they had to walk single file, Damon in the lead, Lunar sandwiched in the middle, and the Reaper as the caboose.

"Why am I here? What did you mean by I don't have a soul? What's the Reapers name? Why won't you talk to me? Answer me, god damnit-!"

A sharp edge landed around Lunar's throat, stopping him in his tracks.

"Shut it, before this shuts you up for us."

Lunar put his hands up, surrendering to the blade against his Adam's apple. "Just, please, tell me where we are."

The Angel turned around to look at the small human. "We are in the hallways that the Demons of Heaven control."