Temptation [A Young Writer's Prize Submission]

Denny

Chapter Thirty Seven

Are they not all ministering spirits sent out to serve for the sake of those who are to inherit salvation?

Hebrews 1:14

Arielle had inserted herself firmly into Lucien's embrace and the two appeared to be having some kind of terse discussion. He glanced around disinterestedly, briefly meeting my eyes, before Arielle tapped his cheek with her finger and, calling him back to her, pressed her lips determinedly against his.

Their kiss was only brief, with Lucien pulling away almost instantly, but the anger it incited within me was almost unmanageable. It must have been the cocktail that made me feel so angry - the alcohol messing with my emotions, not any betrayal from Lucien. It was too bad I couldn't even believe myself.

Lucien detached himself from Arielle's apega-like embrace, but I didn't want to witness any more of their domestic. Spying a back door, I decided to get some reprieve from the overheated club.

The outside air felt cool against my burning skin, and there was a thick fog around - though that was perhaps the fumes coming out of the air vents. The sky was inky black above me, studded with tiny diamond stars: barely enough to permeate the darkness. Only the sputtering floodlight above the door offered some relief from the night.

Though it was quieter out here, the noise from the club still assaulted my ears: yells of delight, some screams and the sounds of breaking glass echoed through the evening.

My back was to the stone wall of the club, which supported most of my weight, as I didn't trust my legs in these shoes. Feeling the stability of the wall behind me was reassuring: nobody could sneak up on me this way. I breathed in the gentle air, feeling it cool the sweat on my face and the back of my neck.

Through the fog, I noticed something move and one of the dustbins rattled. Probably nothing more than a stray cat, I tried to assure myself. A feeling in my gut told me it was something else, something more dangerous.

I turned back to the door, only to find it had locked itself behind me. Swearing under my breath, it dawned on me that the only other way out was to walk along this alley - in the direction the sound had come from. Torn between remaining where I was or braving the unknown, I hammered on the door of the club, hoping that by some chance I might be heard from the inside.

Several moments passed where nothing happened: there was no response from behind the door and no more sound from the mouth of the alley. I was almost confident enough to walk blindly through the gap between the buildings, when a figure emerged in front of me.

He was well camouflaged with the dark night: a long, dark brown coat hid most of his features. The hood he wore low on his forehead stopped me from seeing into his eyes. In fact, the only part of him not covered by clothes or concealed by the shadows, was his left hand, standing out like a warning sign against the rest of him. As it was the only part of him I could see; I found I directed my words toward that pale hand.

"Who are you? Show me your face."

He didn't answer, but the hand twitched: tensing and releasing, over and over. His fingers were thick, but when he flexed his hands the bones in his knuckles were clearly visible. As though he was psyching himself up for something, the clenching and unclenching of his fists continued. For some unknowable reason, the simple action scared me - though it could have been because the last time I'd been alone in an alley, it hadn't turned out well for me. Panic spread through my body, sending icy fire through my veins.

The flickering light turned on full force, then blew out, sending sparks down the alley, but it had been long enough for me to see dark blots, like a kind of leprosy, marring the side of his hand in an intricate pattern.