The Angel, the Vampire, and the Demon

Chapter twenty-four- The Branding

The Angel stepped into the dimly lit Barn. The candle in the single lantern was slowly dying, filling the room with thick shadows. "Hello?" the Angel called into the silence, there was no response. He caught sight of something on the floor. A grey wing spread out limply on the dust covered ground. Eerily still. The Angel walked over to it, knowing what it would belong too.

Laying on the floor was an Angel. Golden blood pooled around his head, mattering the ends of his hair and the collar of his robes. Two angry-looking puncture marks showed up red and against his pale skin, crusted with drying blood. The body was still. A horrible stillness that filled the Angel with dread.

"Hey! You, ok?" he asked, his voice echoing around the dark space. There was no response.

The Angel walked over to the body and knelt down next to it. He took one of the limp, pale hands. It was cold. He placed two fingers over the blue veins and checked for a pulse. He found none. His chest filling with fear, he looked at the Angel's still and expressionless face and recognised him with a horrible jolt.

Many.

***

"I'm just going for a walk! I need fresh air!" Abrariel called from the front door. Raziel called back the ok from somewhere in the house, Abrariel would hear Jorden's voice as well, a soft murmur. He smiled and opened the door, stepping out into the night.

Abrariel looked down the road. He had never travelled that way before, to the farmland. He knew that was where the Farm Angels worked every day and night. Abrariel thought that a peaceful walk in the farmland would be nice before the chaos of birth.

Abrariel started down the dirt moonlit road, he wore a light blue hoddie jumper. He pulled the hood up before putting his hands in the pockets of his brown trackpants. He looked around at the wheat waving in the soft breeze, waving in a way that he had only ever seen in anime. He could smell the sweet scent of the wheat and hear the cries of the animals in the clear night. As he felt the soft breeze on his face, he looked up at the night sky, pricked with glowing stars. The moon was a half-crescent and small fluffy clouds floated here and there. He smiled, how he loved the night.

He looked back down and saw the tall Barns. Moon-bleached towers of wood, orange light filling out of the large open doors. But something wasn't right. Abrariel frowned and slowed his pace a little, taking his hands out of his pockets. There should be Angels, Farm Angels, lots of them, flying around and doing jobs for the evening. With the lights still on, and the animals roaming off their leads, the place was eerily empty. Something was wrong.

A commotion of voice carried on the wind drew Abrariel's attention to the smallest Barn, whose main lights were off. Farm Angels in their hundreds were rushing around the front of the Barn, almost in panic, calling out. Some, Abrariel could hear, were crying.

A jolt of sudden fear went through him. What was wrong? Abrariel rushed over, dodging animals and flattening stalks of golden wheat. He made it to the edge of the shifting and moving crowd of Angels. They were clearly panicked. Abrariel caught the very faint whiff of blood. He started to push his way through the gathered Angels, fearing what he might find. An injured Angel? A horrible farm accident? What he found was not what he was expecting.

Laying on the hard packed earth, in a pool of yellow lantern light, was an Angel. Horribly still. His neck was coated in dried, red-gold blood. Two angry puncture marks stood out like a star on his deathly pale skin. Fear thrumming through his body, Abrariel dragged his gaze to the Angel's face and stifled a gasp and cry of shock, horror, and grief.

The Angel was Many. His ash-grey wings were spread out under him, like a bed of feathers. His corn-yellow robes were stained with blood at the collar. His face was smoothed of all emotion. Abrariel stumbled forwards and fell to his knees beside Many's head. He heard someone scream and call out, but the sound seemed distant. Many couldn't be dead, he couldn't. Abrariel could only imagine how Art would react. What would happen to their daughter? Two Souls couldn't raise a child.