The Angel's Sacrifice

The Angel's Sacrifice Ch. 28

I gasp, struggling to sit up. Heart pounding, I search the room for what has caused my mind to be on edge. Slowly, the nightmare comes back to me as I pry my sticky skin from the sheets that cling to me with sweat.

In the dark, I hear the message over and over again: Give up, Fae. Flashes of the shadowed person grip my mind's eye and the glint of the blade is all too real in the dead of the night. I hear a rustle and I very carefully swivel my head to peer into the black. I hear a yawn and at once I recognize it as Seth's.

Strangely, his presence brings only slight comfort. As I refocus, I grow aware of a small pain. Lifting my hand, I gently place it on my flesh of my neck. I am shocked to feel liquid that I know is my blood on my fingertips and I sit on my covers a long while, consumed in fear.

My eyes do not feel heavy for the rest of the night.

...

"What are you doing?" Jack sighs as I struggle to lift a dusty box from its perch.

"What does it look like?" I grunt in response.

Unable to sleep for the rest of the night, I had stayed up my mind whirling with uncertainty about what just had taken place.

Now in the basement of the castle, Jack looks more concerned than usual as I pry open a cardboard box. "Quit giving me that look," I say as I rummage through the contents. Nothing unusual, well at least of the variety that we had been looking for.

"I'm not so sure we should even be looking in those boxes," Jack mumbles.

As soon as there was light, I had gotten up and got ready for the day. After rousing Jack awake, we had made our trek as planned from the day before. The description that Jack had given me held true: a few rooms that were connected and stairs that led to the basement-- all empty, save for the basement that had aged boxes that looked like they hadn't been opened for eternity.

"What's the worst that could happen?" I ask as I shove the box away from me, finding nothing worth showing. It was unlike Jack to be reclusive. If anything, it would be me who would be hesitant to look through old junk. But I suppose staying awake, not being able to do anything, changes your outlook for a bit.

"Oh, I don't know, Angel magic spurting from a knocked-over bottle!" Jack nearly shouts.

Turning to him, I study Jack closely. Living with him as long as I have... well you get to know somebody and this somebody was acting weird.

"Listen, if you're freaked out about something, just tell me, ok? I really want to be thorough," I respond. I try to sound casual, hoping that it would help set him at ease.

Despite the scare of last night, I had resolved to do the opposite of what the knife-wielder wanted. If I could find something that would help everyone here, then I was going to do it. And Jack and I must be close if this thing was so adamant about me staying away.

"It's just... well I have stuff down here from- well whatever. Just be careful, okay?" Jack finally says after a few moments of silence.

Deciding not to pressure him, I open another damaged box from a molding shelf.

...

Hours later nothing had shown up that would be a clue to anything except age. To move on from whatever Jack was storing down here, I had tactically changed the subject to Marcie. While on the surface it would seem like not a great way to go, I could almost feel the air relax.

But with the subject of Marcie came frustration. "This little "mystery" is practically killing me!" I exclaim as I sit down on the floor in defeat. A cloud concocted of dirt and dust stirs and I cough. Jack comes to sit by me and takes my hand.