Page 14 of Runes To Rain
As I consider it, the angel straightens and looks forward, across the room from me. They make a summoning motion with their hand in my direction. “Sit and let me look at your leg,” they say, the raspy sound pulling goosebumps from my skin up and down my spine.
I hesitate, but some part of me bids me to obey, so I step forward even as my heart pounds. Shakily, I lower myself to sit upon the bed.
“I cannot tend to it all the way over there. Come closer,” they rasp. Then, with a grin that doesn’t touch their eyes, they look straight through me and rasp, “I don’t bite.”
Even as my teeth grind and a chill joins the goosebumps along my spine, I push myself closer. The smile drops from their face, and they look down at my leg.
I follow their gaze and see the familiar neat white bandage wrapped around the lower part of my leg.
They neatly unwind it with fingers both warmer and more gentle than I expected. They then poke and prod delicately around the bloody gash. “Who’s seen to this already?” they ask, slowly looking back up towards my face. They still look through me, and I pause.
“I’m not sure who has seen to it.” I carefully put the demons from my mind for reasons not fully known to me. I avoid looking at their light blue eyes as I say, “I remember little after receiving this injury.”
They roll their shoulders in an unsettling way that does nothing to reassure me.
I fight back a shudder.
They then pull a small tin and a handful of bandages out of a large pocket on their cloak.
I consider whether I should resist, but, despite how unsettled I feel, they haven’t done anything to hurt me. Also, that strange intelligence says I should trust them.
They apply the ointment to the gash, and I confess that while I would enjoy telling you it stings or burns, instead, it removes the remainder of the pain in my leg and further clears my head. They then wrap my leg neatly in a fresh bandage. Finishing that task, they step away from the bed and hold out a hand toward me. “Take my hand and follow,” they rasp.
I note the long, delicate fingers and short, clean nails as I hesitate, but something moves me to obey, that intelligence again prompting me to trust them. At last, I take their hand.
I’m dressed only in a simple, white shift with bare feet, but they don’t seem to care. They lead through the door into the rest of the house. Again, I consider calling the boys or pulling free and running to find a weapon. I feel my muscles tense slightly as I consider.
Their hand around mine tightens, iron strength around my fingers. “Don’t flee, little bird,” they say without looking back at me. The sound of their voice is filtered through a smile, and chills run down my spine yet again. “While you hold my hand, no one will see or hear us,” they say as though this thought might bring me comfort.
It does not.
They lead through the apartment and out to the street. In my experience so far in this world, limited though it may be, the smoke is usually thick enough to bring shadows to most places. At this moment, however, it is darker than I have yet seen, and again I hesitate.
This time, instead of speaking, they just further firm their grip on my hand, nearly crushing my fingers, and pull me forward in their wake.
A small squeak escapes from my lips, and I struggle to breathe as their longer legs drive us forward at a pace more swift than I can easily match. Thankfully, we don’t have far to travel on our feet, and even as I feel a bead of sweat rise upon my hairline, we arrive at the side of a carriage.
I look to the front to see the horses, but they are mostly covered by the dark, and the steel grip of the angel doesn’t hesitate to pull me into the carriage door. I’m deposited on a bench, and the best I can do is fall gracefully onto my seat as they release me. They close the door firmly and then sit opposite me. Offset from me, they lift their hood to cover their head and stare out of the depths straight through the back of the seat behind me.
As the carriage moves us swiftly toward whatever fate, I focus on breathing and trying to calm my racing heart.
A CAGED BIRD?
Eventually, the carriage comes to a stop. The angel rises from their seat and, taking my arm in their strangely strong hand, they pull me from the carriage.
Somehow, I manage to remain upright as they tug me after them. I look up to see a building in front of me, indistinguishable from the others on the outside except for a large double door that looks strangely out of place. As we get near, the doors open as if of their own accord, and I’m pulled through by the angel without pause.
The inside of the building looks like nothing I’ve seen in my short life, nor does it seem to exist in Malam’s memories. Everything is white, and the lights in the place burn with an unnerving stillness reflecting off the floor and sending daggers into my eyes. The wide hallway eventually opens into a cavernous room.
There are many angels and some humans in this space, and some of them pause, looking at the angel who leads me as our movement carries us through that room and into the next. I note that, true to their word, none of the others seems to notice me, whether human or angel. I look around withcuriosity as they drag me forward, but I can’t take the time to discover anything beyond brief glimpses as our rapid pace continues.
We move through two more rooms, each smaller than the initial cavernous space but still larger than anything I’ve seen before. We eventually stop in front of a partially clear door that seems to be made of glass.
Finally, they release my hand and I hear them say, “Stay with me, little bird.”
They move quickly forward, and without their hand on mine, I’m left standing behind for half a breath. As soon as I realize, I rush after them, trying to stay close to the only being in this space that I know. As I’m concentrating on keeping pace with them and their cursedly long legs, I don’t notice my environment, so when they stop, I pitch forward into them. I catch myself and then peer around them curiously.
We stand, it seems, in front of a dais with an angel sitting upon it. He has a long, narrow face and curly hair that nearly brushes his broad shoulders. His nose is hawkish and curves at the bottom, and he clasps long, narrow fingers in front of his chest.
