The Unbalanced Three

Chapter III ~ Discovery

Also during Lexi's death...

Thomas sighed. It had been a long day. No, a long week. And a long month. And a long year. With another huff he collapsed onto the couch of his cramped apartment. He'd just moved in, and the empty rooms were evidence of that. He liked Chicago so far, and the apartment he was currently residing in was tiny but charming. Even had a doorman downstairs.

He'd been forced to leave his last residence due to...unforeseen circumstances. So here he was. Starting over. Again. He looked around the bare living room, furnished with a couch and a TV. The necessities. He flipped on the TV, hoping something good would be on. Nothing was, and he flipped the TV back off.

A sudden high pitched scream resounded through his house, making him jump to his feet. The cries for help were clearly coming from an apartment near his. The thin walls between units did little to muffle whatever commotion was occurring in a neighboring unit.

Normally he left his neighbors alone, but this sounded bad. Maybe some kind of domestic violence? He rushed out of his apartment and to the door the screams seemed to be coming from. He banged on the door.

"What is the cause of your distress?" He asked loudly through the door. His strong voice held an interesting accent: seemingly some variation of old English. It was soft on the consonants and had a gentle sort of lull. All the ancient people shared this accent, but Thomas' accent always became sharper in situations where his adrenaline was pumping.

When no answer came he kicked down the door with ease. A result of natural ability, lots of practice, and the door's poor construction. What he saw shocked him. A man grasping a knife was kneeling over a delicate girl while muttering softly and incoherently. Blood covered the knife, and splatters of red decorated the floor and walls. When the door crashed in, the man looked up in shock.

Thomas' eyes narrowed. This was no ordinary man. The man's unnaturally sharp teeth and black eyes revealed his true identity.

"Ah! I should have known any trouble would be because of Draconian scum!" Thomas hissed at the man. Draconians were nothing but trouble, and daemons were worse, though they usually didn't hurt humans. Perhaps this one was rogue?

Regardless, the attacker eyed the man before him. Thomas was an imposing figure, with piercing blue eyes, thick dark hair, and a powerful build. He was not one to be messed with.

"Angelike filth! Feeling especially righteous today, aren't we?" The daemon replied with disdain.

Thomas pulled out a long knife that was previously concealed beneath his clothing. 

"What's the point?" the deamon hissed, "she's already dead."

Though it was most likely too late to help the girl, a fight might be the answer to today's boredom. However, the daemon, obviously unwilling to test the blade's sharpness, looked down once more at the clearly deceased girl before dissolving into shadow.

Thomas kneeled beside the deathly pale girl, careful to stay away from the blood pooling below her. And, truly, that was a feat considering the amount of it. Red stained her hair and clothes, and most of the gashes on her torso were still oozing. Her eyes were closed, and she looked almost peaceful, save for the wounds. Thomas looked at her sadly. What a horrible end.

There was no saving this girl. 

Her murder surprised him, most especially because it was at the hands of a daemon. Although they were nasty wastes of life, they tended to avoid killing humanitaes, as it was rarely necessary. Daemons did feed on taes, on their fear, but generally left their victims intact. A murder like this? This was truly evil...no one deserved to die like this, especially an innocent. The idea sickened him.

Thomas considered. Nothing good ever came from Draconian violence. Or Draconians in general, but that was beside the point. He would have to report this--perhaps he would be allowed to return home? Although it was more likely he'd be stuck here dealing with whatever this latest plot was.  

A sudden movement pulled him out of his thoughts.

The girl had turned her head! The movement was slight, however, and she remained unconscious. Perhaps he was imagining things. He put his fingers to her neck, and felt a faint pulse. 

No, it wasn't possible. A human surviving this much blood loss was impossible! So that meant...

He stooped to pick the girl up, bridal style. He would take her back to his apartment. A hospital wasn't an option...they would ask too many questions. He couldn't treat her in her home, he knew the cops would be coming soon (he couldn't be the only person to hear her scream or see the kicked in door), and he didn't want the Draconian coming back to finish its job

With the surprisingly light girl in his arms, he exited through the now damaged door. If he moved fast enough down the hall, he hoped none of the neighbors would notice. The semi-dead girl would be...very hard to explain. Luckily, he was fast and the neighbors were either too cautious or too callous to be nosy. Once inside, he laid the bloody and mangled girl on his couch and went to fetch his emergency medical supplies.

If this girl lasted the night it would be a miracle, but he had hope. He wasn't bored anymore.

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