21. Winged Demon #2
It appears so, seeing as whatever affliction has taken hold of her continues to drain her of life by the second.
I don’t want to contaminate her body further, but I don’t see any way to stop the disease from spreading.
My power is not enough.
God’s most definitely is.
I hesitate only a moment more… before I do the unforgivable. I do not grant her peace or absolution, nor do I siphon what remains of her life and send it back to our maker.
Instead, I open a vial, twisting off the small cap before pressing the rim to her lips and easing them apart.
The waiting comes next.
When there’s no immediate change, I open another and feed it to her. And another. How much will it take to pull her back from the brink? Will this be enough?
The change comes within moments.
Her hair lightens. Her skin turns to ivory. Long lashes transform from muted black to white on her pale and dotted cheeks.
Pulling up her pant leg, I see the potion has set to mending her flesh, sealing the wound closed as if it never happened to begin with.
A gasp leaves her as her lungs draw in a huge expanse of air. Her body bows as the power moves through her. When her eyes do eventually open, they take me in, and they're remarkably changed.
As if woken from a nightmare, she bolts upright and begins to inspect herself. Her left hand first, then her right. Her gaze falls to me, my face, and then the empty vial between my fingers.
The knowledge of what I’ve discovered must hit her all at once, because she snatches the vial from my hand and snarls, “What did you do?”
I sit up, affronted by the heat in her tone. “Saved your life.”
She looks down, frowns at the state she finds herself in, and struggles to get to her feet while righting her clothing. “And how did you know about the elixir?”
“Find your stash, you mean? I sensed it in you. Which begs the question, where in the everloving heavens did you acquire it?”
“That’s… none of your business.”
She glares down at me. I take my time standing, watching the fire settle into her eyes. Not unwelcome. At least it means she’s alive.
“You could say thank you.”
She huffs. “I could. But I won’t.” She rubs one arm, then shudders. “How much did you give me?”
I gesture to the empty vials scattered on the ground.
Her eyes widen. “That’s too much.”
“You were dying. I wasn’t inclined to be conservative and risk your life.”
She bends down and grabs the other vials, quickly shoving them into her pocket.
“Where did it come from?”
She freezes. “I’m not answering that.”
“Then at least tell me that you know what it is, yes?”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she grumbles, “Of course I do.”
I’m not convinced.
Arching a brow, I query, “But do you know it’s tainted?”
Tone cold, she snaps, “It’s not tainted.
“It is.”
“And how would you know that?”
I retrieve my cloak and drape it over my shoulders. When I step toward her, she retreats a pace. It’s as if this discovery shifted something between us, and I’m once again her enemy.
Exhaling, I sigh, “I could see it.” Motioning to her, I add, “Sense it. In you… and in the vial.”
She doesn’t believe me. That much is clear from her set expression.
“Do you have more?”
She doesn’t answer right away. When she does, suspicion infuses her tone. “And if I did?”
“Bring it out,” I say evenly. “And I’ll show you.”
It takes a moment for her defiance to fall away. When she finally complies, she searches through her clothing before reaching into her boot and pulling free another small vial.
“Hold it up to the sunlight.”
The sun has crested the horizon, subdued with cloud cover—but it’s enough. Reluctantly, she lifts the vial. The contents swish inside—silver and shadow, purity and something else.
I step closer. She tenses once again.
I point at the largest dark fragment drifting within. “The specks. They shouldn’t be there. Whatever that is… it isn’t right.”
“Again,” she says, her tone sharpening, “how do you know?”
There’s unease beneath it. Not fear exactly, but uncertainty.
“Because I was reborn from the lake where God’s tears reside in Heaven.” My gaze stays on the vial. “I’ve seen it in its purest form. This…” I gesture faintly. “This is similar. But it’s been tampered with.
“Where did you get it?”
Her jaw tightens. A flicker of something crosses her expression—annoyance, maybe. She’s entirely too secretive for my liking.
I tilt my head slightly. “You still don’t trust me? Was saving your life not telling enough?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But it’s implied.”
“Look, can we just get out of here and talk this through somewhere else where we’re less exposed?”
I nod once. “There’s one problem.”
She had turned away, but spins back around at my declaration. “What?”
“If we’re flying… you’ll need to let me get close enough to carry you.”
Eventually, she nods her acceptance. Yet when I step into her space, her body reacts poorly—shoulders stiff, spine straightening—every line of her pulling taut as if my touch is unwelcome.
“Calm, Little One,” I say quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
A breath leaves her. Some of the tension eases—but not all of it. She shakes out her hands and then nods. “Okay. I’m ready.”
I gather her into my arms. She fits there a bit too perfectly. The rightness is mildly disconcerting. Especially as she tilts her face away, taking in everything around us to avoid eye contact.
Her hold on me is careful, as if unsure how much contact she’s willing to give and allow.
It strikes me then that trust is not something she offers freely. The why of it is not a story I will press for now, though I hope to learn it in time.
Perhaps she has never placed her trust in another.
Or perhaps she has, and paid a price for it.
If I want to learn her secrets, it looks as though I will have to earn the right to hold them. And I doubt very much that what I learned so far is all there is, based on the visions I experienced when we first touched and the words that fell from her lips while unconscious.
We take to the skies once more. This time, my focus is sharper. I press harder toward my brothers’ location than before and scan once again for their mental signatures.
Together, perhaps we can make sense of what is unfolding—of the demons surfacing… and unravel the riddle that is this woman.
My back has begun to ache. The flight is taxing muscles I haven’t used in some time. I ignore the pain for as long as I can, knowing soon it will get the best of me.
“What’s that?” The priestess faces me, having shifted to get better situated in my hold. She’s no longer being carried. She’s holding me back. Her arms are linked around my neck with a grip as fierce as the one I have around her waist.
More rain has fallen, hampering our progress and visibility. The squall and wind speed are building and moving in the same direction we are.
“Where?”
She lifts one hand and points over my right shoulder.
I turn, following the line of her finger, seeing nothing at first as I slow while still pumping my wings to keep up aloft.
Then I see it. A figure of a being cloaked in shadow.
Something is attempting to blend in with one of the tallest of the trees.
Hunched over. Motionless. It clings to the topmost dead end of the pine with unnatural balance.
Its wings are draped downward like those of a drooping branch and its leaves.
If the tree were full of life, I would have never noticed it in this weather.
But as it stands, the entire forest rests in death, burned away some time ago.
It’s humanoid in shape, yet wrong in proportion, and curled inward. Its head is bowed. It’s also still enough to pass for one of those menacing immortals who spend more than half their lives in stone.
But this is no gargoyle.
Very few, if any, of those hybrid creatures created by the fallen centuries ago remain. Like the others, they fled to other realms, leaving this one to its demise.
The longer I look, the clearer the absence becomes. I press my awareness toward it and come back with nothing. There is no soul. And no soul means I can’t draw on it and pull the living force from its body.
I keep moving, never taking my awareness of it away. Not yet sure if it poses a threat to us, and I’m not willing to let down my guard.
Maybe it hasn’t spotted us.
As if the notion, the thought, calls its attention to our location, branches creak and snap softly as it straightens, wings unfurling with a wet, leathery sound.
Hell’s damnation.
A bout of thunder rumbles in the distance, and I roll my eyes upward.
If that is a message I’m to take as a warning, you need to work on your timing.
Rising fast and higher than I expect, the creature ascends into the air with powerful, deliberate wingbeats. Its pale wings are vast—batlike with leathery dark membranes stretched between elongated, skeletal fingers. Their edges are tattered and ragged, as if eaten away.
It flies west and circles the sky once. Then it angles toward us.
“What do we do?” the priestess asks, her voice cracking. Her fear is palpable. Her light eyes are more prominent in the dim light that surrounds us. Rain has dampened her hair and skin, and yet she is still stunning.
I say nothing as I think through how to avoid fighting a demon with her in my arms.
She adjusts to get a better look over my left shoulder and tightens her hold around my neck. I feel her breath hitch and brush against the side of my face.
My body shivers in response, but I ignore it. Now is definitely not the time for such things.
“It’s coming.”
Tone resolute, I give her the truth. “Yes.”
She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “Will it catch up to us?”
“Likely,” I answer, already adjusting my grip. “Since I can’t fly at full speed while carrying another person.”
“Then put me down.” She scans the ground below, then points toward a large break in the trees. “There.”
A sound decision, so I angle us toward it at once.