16. Scarlet
Chapter 16
Scarlet
“ D on’t worry, you’ll get used to it.” Lucifer winked, grinning as he jumped off the edge of the roof. He even pretended to fall, his acting noteworthy before simply disappearing into thin air with a lasting chuckle.
Scarlet disagreed. She’d never get used to it. Drifting sucked, and if she had any other choice she would stay away from him. Except Cassiel wanted her closer. She was there to gain the Archangel’s trust, so if she had to spend her time with a Daemon and his hedonistic personality then she’d grit her teeth and bear it.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Aeron snarled, stepping out onto the rooftop with a look of rage. He still wore the leather straps and golden cage, but beneath it was a dirty gauze smeared with blood. Bruises decorated his ribs, as well as his face.
“What happened?” she answered instead, closing their distance so she could tug at the gauze to see the wound in his side. It was red, with black flecks of debris imbedded deep within the skin. “You’re going to get an infection.”
“I was hit with shards when Gideon smashed the tower.” Aeron clenched his jaw, but didn’t move as she gently pressed her fingertips to his side.
“Come on, I need to clean this out.” Without waiting for him to respond, she moved inside and immediately jumped down the centre. Her wings expanded without pain, slowing her fall.
Cassiel had clearly designed the building for celestrials, consisting of connecting townhouses that had been gutted to create a single internal complex. The centre had been opened, allowing those with wings to easily access each floor without the use of stairs. Clever if they were ever attacked, unless the attacker was someone like Lucifer.
The complex had room to house over fifty people comfortably, and yet many of the rooms, as well as three of the five floors, were empty. Including herself, the other officers and Cassiel, there were only a handful of staff. All celestrial men, ones that walked with their heads down and were usually cleaning, cooking or standing with their spears at the door. They were about as friendly as a lion was to a mouse.
Nahal was lying on the sofa when she walked into the living quarters, his eyes closed with his wings draped around him like a warm blanket. He didn’t acknowledge her as she came in, nor when she headed straight to her bedroom to change out of her uniform and into a pair of high-waisted black leggings and a matching top. Wrapping the fabric around her middle she tied a knot just below her bellybutton before grabbing the herbs, and utensils before heading back into the shared space.
“Take a seat,” she said when Aeron grimaced, pulling out the chair opposite to where Zaph sat at the table, silently eating a bowl of cereal. Aeron had pulled down his straps, and removed the gauze to leave the hole open.
Celestrials had a reasonably advanced healing ability in contrast to humans in terms of timeframe, but they were still prone to infections. The hole was around the size of her fist, and deep enough she knew there was more internal damage than she first predicted. The bruises and scratches would heal within a few days, but the hole would take considerably longer.
In reality their DNA was as close to humans as any other Breed, beating shifters, druids and even vampires, despite them being born human. Before Breed became recognised citizens after the Great War – which was an event even she was taught about while a child in Aetherna – celestrials were revered as creators, or even Gods. Many faiths depicted humans with wings as superior, and that was something her kind had encouraged.
Placing her marbled wooden bowl on the table, she quickly mixed up a salve that would help the skin repair. She didn’t have much space to bring with her everything she wanted, but she still had a little of Aetherna’s natural herbs, crushed and wrapped in fabric parcels. She had yet to explore the properties of the flora and fauna found on earth, but from what she’d seen so far, both their realms were more similar than dissimilar.
“Pass me the milk, please,” she said as she began to clean out the debris, much to Aeron’s distress.
Zaph stood, grabbing it from the fridge. He hovered over her shoulder, watching as she poured a little of the milk into the ingredients to make a paste.
“That shit stinks,” Nahal muttered, uncurling his wings so he could sit up.
Scarlet ignored him, gently checking each of Aeron’s visible tendons and muscles with her bare fingertips. She held hundreds of years of knowledge about celestrial anatomy in her mind, and could find even the smallest damage many others would overlook. Her gift was unusual amongst her kind, the ability to heal minor injuries just by touch. If the tendons remained damaged, then the muscles wouldn’t be connected sufficiently to the bones and would risk the integrity and strength of his wing. Luckily, despite how terrible it looked, Aeron’s wound wasn’t worth the energy and concentration needed when she knew Kit required her attention more.
Sensing no more inorganic debris, she gently massaged some of the paste inside the wound, designed to help with the elasticity and recovery.
“Right, this is going to suck.” She waited until Aeron nodded before she picked up the needle, and stitched the wound closed before gently applying more of the paste to the outside. “Whatever struck you has penetrated deep enough to pierce the muscles just below your wing anchors. I wouldn’t risk flying for a few days, otherwise you’ll risk permanent damage.”
Looking a shade paler, he muttered a thank you before stalking off to his bedroom. His door slammed shut seconds later.
Cleaning the paste and blood from her hands she went to knock on Kit’s door.
“He’s gone,” Nahal said, going back to lying across the length of the only sofa.
Scarlet’s fist paused, looking back over her shoulder. “What do you mean he’s gone? Is he being seen by a medical team?”
“No, he just left,” Zaph added with a shrug. “His stuff’s gone.”
Frowning, Scarlet didn’t bother with the knock and simply pushed the door open. Kit’s room was identical in layout to her own, but just as Zaph had said, everything was gone. The bed had been stripped, and the drawers emptied.
“He was seriously hurt,” she said, turning back to the living space. “Did anyone speak to him before he left?”
Nahal sighed, closing his eyes and cuddling himself with his wings once more. “No, we came back from securing Cassiel, and he was just gone. It happens. Not many people can deal with the danger of this job.”
They acted so indifferently, as if they didn’t care whether Kit was there or not. Maybe they didn’t, likely used to the quick turnaround of officers and staff. Scarlet turned, ready to head back out, only for Zaph to look up and pin her to the spot.
“Be careful,” he said, his voice rougher than usual. “Only Aeron has direct access to the Archangel. You don’t want to overstep.”
Scar bit the inside of her cheek. “He’s asked me to update him directly.”
Nahal sighed loudly, as if we were disturbing him despite it being a shared space. “He’ll likely be in his living quarters, which is off limits. You should have returned at the same time as us, and not taken off without warning.”
“Unless you’re going to offer to suck his dick, I wouldn’t,” Zaph said, his attention returning to his bowl of cereal. “We’ve already lost Kit tonight. Don’t put yourself in the firing line.”
A strange lump settled in her stomach, radiating a cold that she couldn’t seem to shift. Unable to rest until she spoke to Cassiel, she made her way down another floor to his office. Except, he wasn’t there, the room empty when she stepped inside.
A low whine emitted from the lights above, dimmed so low she barely cast a shadow.
The lump grew, making her feel uneasy.
“Sir?” she called out, peeking her head around some of the free-standing shelves. Lips pursed she moved towards Cassiel’s desk, frowning at a drawing of what looked like a cup. It was coloured in gold, with cracked stones surrounding the lip.
Carefully, as not to disturb the desk, she picked up the page. Words surrounded the image, written in the same Celestrian she’d spotted before. Each character shimmered and moved, making it impossible for her to even try and decipher it.
Gently placing the paper exactly where she found it she quickly opened a drawer, searching for a diary, or organiser, or anything that was dated the night of her brother’s death. She knew it was a long shot, and she wasn’t even sure what she was looking for. The drawers came up empty, and other than the drawings there was nothing on his desk.
Shoulders slumped, she stared at the various instruments, tools she wasn’t even sure their purpose was. Vials of liquid lay neatly together with no labels, and beside them a few hypodermic needles. Most were capped, but one had been used recently if she went by the red tip.
A light tapping, drawing her eye to the orb that sat at the edge of the desk. It was transparent, indicating its lack of use. More tapping, a gentle sound in a series of three.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Silas?” Scarlet whispered, looking around for the mirror to find her brother tapping at the glass. There definitely hadn’t been a freestanding mirror there before. Turning, she searched for something to cover the reflection.
A bang, Silas forcing her to look back at him. Maintaining eye contact he dipped his finger in one of his cuts, and wrote, ‘leave.’
Scarlet knew it would happen sooner rather than later, that he’d figure out she was still hunting for his eye. He may not always retain fresh memories, but of course he’d remember that one.
“I can’t, not until I find it,” she whispered.
His mouth moved, dislocated jaw unable to form words. With a fist he hit the glass.
“Stop it,” she hissed. “You’re hurting yourself.”
He tapped against the word again. ‘Leave.’
“I can’t.”
His face twisted with frustration, blood dripping from the wounds on his chest. ‘Run,’ he wrote beneath. ‘Not safe.’
“Just keep a lookout.”
Silas turned away from her, and she wanted nothing more than to continue fighting with him just like they used to. But this was the perfect opportunity for her to search Cassiel’s space.
The quicker she was able to interrogate Cassiel, the quicker she could figure out who has Silas’s eye. But before that, she needed leverage. Something she could use to force him to co-operate.
The freestanding shelves held nothing but medical journals, written in at least five different languages, and behind them was a door.
A bang echoed behind her, followed by three taps. It was so loud in the silent room she jumped back, expecting to see Cassiel standing over her. But no, she was still technically alone.
Another bang, Silas’s hit weaker than before.
Looking over her shoulder she glared at him. “Stop it,” she mouthed. She already knew no one else could see him, but she wasn’t sure about the sound.
‘Run. Not safe.’
Scarlet turned back to the door, trying the handle. It opened with ease, the air colder inside like a freezer. It billowed out to tease her ankles, and immediately frosted her breath.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
She ignored him, knowing the longer she was out of his line of sight the easier he could leave.
Blood perfumed the air, distinctive and drawing her inside. The room inside was white, with stairs leading down. Scarlet descended down the stairs, stopping at the bottom to stare at the metal table with stirrups attached in the centre. Blood was a metallic sheen across the shiny surface, with splatters across the tiled floor leading to another, closed door. A tray had been set up beside the table, the instruments there clearly used despite being perfectly placed in a straight line.
Tall shelves were pressed against the wall, displaying glass containers lined neatly on every ledge. Even while she studied medicine, she’d never seen specimens stored so openly and without obvious categorisation. Some held patches of skin, while others chunks of hair or feathers. There was a single claw, and another holding a finger with an extra joint. Each one was more grotesque, or deformed than the last.
Bile rose in her throat, but she quickly swallowed it down.
Moving closer, a flash of silver caught in the corner of her eye. She found another table, this one smaller, and strapped on it was a creature she’d never seen before. It was around the size of a small cat, with a long snout and rat-like tail. Its chest cavity had been opened, a golden cage not too dissimilar to the officers armour pinning back the ribs to reveal its organs. The lungs were grey, and several sizes too large for what she expected to see in a creature of its size.
Scarlet crept closer, not really sure what she was seeing. A strange black mist seemed to be billowing out from the chest, only to rise back up and enter the creature’s nostrils in a strange circle. Lifting her hand she brushed her fingers through it, her skin prickling.
The creature twitched, and Scarlet froze. It was alive, and now she was closer she could barely make out the slow but steady beat of its heart. The creature awoke with a screech, and Scarlet jumped back, only to bump into something much bigger.