Page 16 of Claimed by the Fallen
The creature opens its mouth, revealing its teeth again. I throw my shoulders from side to side, hitting and kicking with all of my might. The creature isunfazed.
Just as the monster starts to lean down, a blur of black feathers fills my vision. Then, I am knocked to the side. I fall onto my rear and stare up. I panic when I don’t see the creature anymore. Afraid of being attacked from behind, I stand up and spin in a wild circle. I hear a roar of pain from the tree to my left, and I stumble in thatdirection.
I round the tree trunk but stop short when I see a pair of midnight wings protruding from a man’s back. Rubbing my eyes, I try to clear my vision. But the sightremains.
A winged man is standing over the cowered creature, and I gasp as he runs a sword through the creature’s gut. Black blood spills from the wound, covering the grass with its inky darkness. The creature cries out, and it sounds like it is speaking a different language. The mysterious man withdraws the sword, and the squelching sound of guts and blood makes me nauseous. I have to steady myself against thetree.
I watch as the gangly, grotesque monster falls to the ground. It gurgles its last breath and stops moving. My knees weaken, and I collapse. The bile that had been building in my throat comes up. Ivomit.
The air shifts as the winged man approaches, but I am unable to look up. I continue to spew out all of my fear and disgust. I can’t believe what I just saw. My entire body trembles. I must be inshock.
My shoulders jerk with another bout of throwing up. Above me, I vaguely register the man speaking. Only, he isn’t talking tome.
“I told you we should’ve kept an eye onher.”
My ears roar, and I’m not sure I’m hearing correctly. I try to look up, but moving my neck makes me dizzy. I dig my fingers into the grass to steadymyself.
“The change is starting,” the strange man continues, “and every demon within fifty miles will be able to senseit.”
Demon?I must be goingcrazy.
My stomach churns, and I continue to throw up bile. I can feel eyes on my back, but I’m too weak to look up and return thestare.
“I already told you, we are not taking her. She isn’t ready.” A second voice speaks, and my body physically starts at the sound. I know I’ve heard it before, but the memory is from a long time ago. I can’t placeit.
Again, I think I must be goingcrazy.
“More are going to find her,” the first one replies. He soundsirritated.
“Then we will just have to make sure to protect her for the time being,” the semi-familiar voice says calmly. “Now, heal her while I go check on her friend. We need to clean up this mess before anyonesees.”
A begrudging grunt is the next sound I hear. Then, a strong hand is placed on my back. Tingles spread across my ribs and spine. I feel the sensation travel down my limbs, wrapping every part of me in comfortingwarmth.
My eyelids droop, and my arms give out. Before I fall face-first into vomit, I am swung up towards the sky. The last thing I see is a firm jawline, outlined by a twinkling, cloudless sky. Vaguely, I think I see blond whiskers peppering the man’s cheekbone. Then, I succumb todarkness.
Seven
The morning after the concert,I wake up feeling sick to my stomach. I throw back my quilt and hurry to the bathroom. I barely have time to lift the porcelain lid before I am vomiting into the toilet bowl. I purge the remaining nausea caused by my horrific and violentnightmare.
My imagination elicits the image of the gangly creature, and I relive the hallucination of seeing black wings fly past me. I can still hear the squelch of flesh as a sword is rammed through the monster’s abdomen. I gag and throw up more stomachacid.
“Ronnie?” My mom’s voice sounds from the doorway. Seeing me, she is quick to lift my thick hair and hold it away from my face. “Oh,honey.”
She waits for a break in my vomiting before asking, “Did you eat something bad at theconcert?”
I rest my cheek against the toilet seat, too sick to note the act is unsanitary. I think back to the previous evening. Other than soda, I hadn’t consumed anything. And I know nothing fishy had been put in my drink. I’d been diligent about watching the bartender when he poured mydrink.
“No,” I tell her. “The last time I ate was at ThePier.”
Another wave of nausea hits me, and I almost throw up onmyself.
“Maybe your stomach is upset because it is empty,” Momguesses.
I lift a weak hand and flush the toilet. I sit back, feeling exhausted. “Maybe.”
“Let’s get you back to bed. I’ll bring you crackers and ginger ale to help settle your tummy,” my mom adopts her babying voice, but I feel too awful tocare.
Mom helps me stand. She dampens a washcloth and wipes my face before leading me back to mybedroom.
