"No, I don't think you're stupid! Heh, I'm the moron—always saying retarded things—like now!"
He placed his hands on the smooth bar and clasped them together shyly. "I, heh, I guess we'd make a good couple then."
He flashed a dazzling smile.
Melissa laughed, a sudden, wild desire to kiss him pulling her thoughts to the land of immorality. "You know, I was going to leave, but I think I'll take you up on that drink offer."
Finally some luck with men! Maybe she wouldn't die a virgin after all!
"What would you like?" he asked.
She looked to the wall of drinks behind the bar and tried to decide.
Then his voice took on a sensual nature. "I'll get you anything you want. Whatever you would like and how you would like it. Just say the word."
Her thoughts were brutally intruded by a steamy image of the two of them together, alone, in the dark, wearing only each other.
"Uhh," she said, feeling her cheeks heat up. God, what was her problem? Must be close to that time of the month. "Uhh, I guess wine or something."
"Or something."
Her face was definitely growing scarlet. "Wine."
"Mmm, a favorite of mine."
He ordered the wine. Fighting the blush, she wondered how on Earth her imagination could have dared such feats at a moment like this.
"I hope you don't mind me asking this," he said. "I've been watching you all evening. I'm new in town and I need someone to show me around, maybe point me to some of the other clubs that are worth trying out." He ran a hand through his mane. "If you don't want to, that's fine. I can't imagine what a pretty girl like you must go through with all the jerks in this world." He leaned an elbow on the bar and placed his chin in his hand. "They give us good guys a bad name."
She hesitated for a moment, but then forced herself to relax. He just seemed so genuine. She hadn't seen him before—and lately she had been quite the bar-hopper—so he was probably telling the truth. It was natural to worry about being raped, even though Melissa never really thought of herself as being pretty. Cute, yes, but never pretty. And besides, she was tired of not being truly popular. The truly popular kids had fun all the time and had absolutely no regrets. She didn't think she could possibly regret doing anything with the guy next to her. His smile was so honest. She was the one who was creating the tension. Another image entered her brain. It made her body ache with desire.
The dark angel looked up at the bartender who had their drinks. He took one glass in each hand, gave the girl her drink, and raised his own. Curling her lips in a dizzied smile, she touched her glass to his, drinking in his ravishing looks with her eyes. There would be only one way to quench her thirst tonight. And to imagine, only moments ago she was thinking about leaving.
"To meeting new people," he said.
"Yeah," she said.
He drew his drink away from hers, but before he could taste it, a sharp, spinning sai came crashing through his glass.
***
Noam
Noam aimed again, this time for the Elitist's face. Malynko hit the floor, and the girl (Melissa, he gathered from her mind) gasped as she jumped out of the way. Gritting his teeth, Noam jumped over his head and the bar to retrieve his weapons at a speed faster than the humans could see.
"Hey, what's goin' on?" said the bartender.
The angel yanked his sai from the wall and looked at the man with flashing white eyes. The man backed up, stumbling over his own feet. Refocusing on his target, Noam saw Malynko shoving people out of the way to get to the door. In a flash of light, he sped in front of him and blocked his escape.
"Move!" Malynko said.
Noam flipped his sai around so that the blades pointed down. He lifted them, ready to cleave them both into the Elitist's skull, but the dark angel brought up his arms—equally as fast as Noam—and caught his wrists in his hands.
"If we fight in here," said Malynko, "people will die."
Noam shot a quick look at the young people dancing under the flashing lights of the club. The loud music still pulsed around them, holding their attention. Though Malynko's words were all a ploy to see him to safety, he was right. Better to not get the humans hurt. Noam pulled his intensity back a bit.
The Elitist grinned and let go of his wrists.
Instantly on the street, Noam saw that Kiazmo was waiting right outside the club, and as soon as the little angel saw his master, he brought forth the massive sword and slid it to him. Malynko slipped the toe of his boot underneath the blade and kicked it up. He snatched it arrogantly from the air and smiled in triumph. Kiazmo ran to an alleyway and hid.
"So, here we are," said Malynko, perfectly calm, leaning on the pommel of his weapon. "Let me know when you're ready."
Noam's mind whizzed like a computer.
Lots of buildings—buildings provided hiding places. People—people were definitely an obstacle, especially the growing crowd that gathered to watch the couple of armed strangers standing in the middle of the road. Night—in the dark the enemy had an advantage, but there was only one enemy. One sword versus two sai. The street was wide, but still there were people…
He decided on his attack.
The green crystal on his belt began to glow. Malynko barely had time to pick his sword back up before the ground started to shake under his feet. Noam concentrated his energy on the quaking street until the Elitist lost his balance and was forced to spread his wings and jump in the air.
Get him as far away from people as possible.
"Was that supposed to scare me?" Malynko asked, laughing.
Before the dark angel knew it, Noam was behind him rearing for a strike. He flapped his wings, soaring in for his foe's neck, when Malynko spun around, clashing his sword with the sai in the Thanatakran's grip. The Elitist flapped his wings and brought up a boot, kicking Noam hard in the chest. Dizzied, Noam heard a great echoing crack and realized the entire block had gone black from power outage. He turned around. Malynko hovered not ten yards away, holding the end of an unearthed telephone pole, its frayed wires snapping and popping with white electricity. With a mighty heave, he attempted to hit Noam in the side, but Noam dodged. Ducking out of the way of three more swings, the Thanatakran then flew up when he should have flown down and felt the middle of the wooden rod slam into his back. The blow knocked him through the giant window of a clothing store.
He pulled himself to his hands and knees and shook the shattered shards of glass from his hair. The store's alarm blared in his ears and tiny stabs of pain lit his skin. In the dark, he stepped over the mannequins, which had been broken upon impact, and he gripped his weapons so tightly his knuckles went white.
He spotted his prey on the roof of a six-story building down the street. Malynko let out a sigh, perhaps thinking he might have knocked Noam unconscious. Noam hurled a sai for his enemy's boots. Malynko jumped, just missing it.
"So, you want to play in the air, is that it?" he spat, angrily flapping his wings. He took the cloak off of them.
Retrieving his sai, Noam also removed the cloak from his wings. The holy radiance from his white feathers blinded Malynko for a moment, and Noam again threw his pronged weapon. Malynko still raised his blade to block, and the sai was sent spinning in a ricochet. Noam reached out a hand to save it from falling off the roof.
As the glow of his wings faded, Malynko attacked him with four quick blows, each coming from a different direction. Noam blocked, but was forced to back up to the edge of the building until his heels hung off the side. His heavy wings threatened to drag him off if he didn't fly, so into the air he went, catching the sting of Malynko's blade against his calf on the way up.
The pain didn't stop him, but the grip on his ankle did. The Elitist yanked him down from the air and slammed his body hard against the cement. He went down with the Thanatakran, his grip refusing to relent.
In searing pain, Noam turned over and stabbed a sai at Malynko's hand. He missed, the fork piercing a hole in the concre
te. The angel of darkness smiled then lifted his sword for a death strike.
But Noam was faster.
With the other sai, he sliced a deep gash in Malynko's wrist. The Fallen angel howled in pain, the shocked nerves of his hand making his fingers open up. He dropped the sword. Noam planted both feet into the sensitive base of his wings—also loaded with nerves—and sent him soaring off the roof.
***
Malynko
Malynko fell headfirst but had managed to flip onto his back before landing. He tightly held his bleeding wrist, cursing his wings for not opening. Noam had knocked them hard in just the right spot, rendering them useless for several seconds. The maddeningly numb sensation slowly escaped through each glossy black feather, and he released his bleeding wrist for a moment to rip a piece of his shirt. The wound bled like a running faucet. Noam had hit the veins.
"Damn you, Thanatakran," he cursed quietly, tying the temporary bandage on as quickly as he could.
He saw his enemy's moonlit silhouette glide down from the roof. Instinctually, he reached for his weapon. Then his green eyes grew wide.
No weapon.
Noam's hands were now wrapped around the grip of Malynko's sword, the blade pointed straight for its original owner's throat. The Elitist tightly gripped his bandaged wrist, a bead of sweat running down his face.
Through gritted teeth, he whispered, "Not like this!"
Noam was feet away from him.
But then Laphelle jumped in the way.
The blond rogue brought up his sword and pressed the wicked black blade against Noam's with all his might. Nearly shaking with the pressure, he took a step forward, getting closer to the Thanatakran's frustrated face.
"Well, if it isn't the mute!" he said.
Noam frowned and brought the sword to the right. A loud scrape sounded as the blades broke free from one another. The angel of light took a couple steps back.
Laphelle held his black weapon at eye level with an outstretched arm and glanced back at Malynko.
"Lucky you," he said.
Malynko narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to argue, but then the rogue began taunting Noam.
"Do you remember this sword?" he asked. Noam didn't move. "I think it remembers you! I do believe I cut you with it once. Surely you remember how painful a slice from the Sivli is."
Noam didn't answer. Malynko smiled, still seizing his wounded wrist.
"What's wrong?" Laphelle said. "Speechless at the sight of me?" The snake coiled around his arm, making the Sivli look like an extension of his body. "Well, maybe my friend here can make you talk again."
He lifted the sword over his head and sent it down with such force that the air cried out in a loud whoosh. Noam blocked the attack with Malynko's sword.
Malynko looked down and saw that his blood had soaked through the makeshift bandage. Ripping another piece of shirt, he tied it around the first. He watched his ex-apprentice send the Sivli toward Noam's neck, his side, his head. Each blow was blocked just in time.
Malynko furrowed his brow. "Kiazmo!"
Kiazmo peeked his head out of the alleyway.
"Stay where you are."
Kiazmo nodded and fled back into the shadows. Malynko smiled at the growing crowd. The people of Edenton had no idea they were in for such a treat that night. He noticed Melissa's young, beautiful face among the others. His eyes found hers and he grinned, winking, sending a shudder of passion through her, which he felt and shared. Then the girl looked up at his wings and gasped.
You stay where you are as well, he said to her, telepathically.
Laphelle's hits were getting faster and faster. The snake had sunk its metallic fangs into his arm and was now coursing with his blood. It fed off of his wild pulse, the attacks growing more rapid with each swing.
Malynko knew his own sword must be getting hotter and hotter to the touch—it was evil and the one holding it was not. Sure enough, Noam tried to hang on, but his hands trembled. Laphelle laughed. In one swift movement, Noam reached in his coat and retrieved the sai as he dropped Malynko's sword, which fell against the concrete with a clang.
Kiazmo crawled out from his alley to grab it then retreated once more. Laphelle gave the little angel a dirty look then turned back to Noam to swing when a flash of light flooded the street.
Malynko shut his eyes, blinded.
He heard Gidyon's voice.
"Quick! This way!" the healer shouted.
There was a collective gasp from the crowd.
"Look! It's another one!" a voice said. Other such cries sounded across the growing number of people.
Shaking his head to regain his vision, Malynko ignored the crowd. Noam was getting away. Turning to Malynko, Laphelle asked:
"Are you coming with me? Or do I have to do EVERYTHING?"
"Just fly, Laphelle!"
They both spread their black wings and weaved between the buildings in hot pursuit.
***
Noam
Noam's leg bled through his pants. The cut from Malynko's blade seemed to be worse than it felt, but he experienced little pain when he let the power inside take over. Gidyon's grip on his arm was strong as he led them past several buildings, flying deeper downtown.
"Only a couple more blocks!" he said.
Malynko and Laphelle were just feet away when Gidyon yanked Noam inside a stone building and shut a thick wooden door behind them.
***
Malynko
Laphelle extended his hand to grasp the door's handle, but when the rogue touched it, he shouted out and swiftly let go. Malynko shoved him out of the way and tried kicking the door down, but a child could have sooner kicked down a mountain.
They took a few steps back.
On the roof of the building rose a wooden cross.
A church.
Malynko shut his eyes and felt his jaw tense up.
"Damn you to the darkest depths of Hell!" Laphelle shouted. "You can't hide forever!"
When Malynko opened his eyes, the First Rank was staring at him.
"Aren't you going to do something?" Laphelle asked.
"And what do you propose I do?"
"Something! You're the mastermind behind this assignment!"
Nodding to the church, Malynko added some vehemence when he again asked, "And what do you propose I do?"
Laphelle's hands were in such tight fists Malynko wondered if they might start bleeding. "Cowards!"
"Yes. Let them hide. Time is not on their side."
"Nor is it on ours." Laphelle shook his head. "I'll meet you back at the base."
A gust of wind whipped Malynko's hair as the First Rank flew away. But the Elitist didn't leave town just yet. He had to make one short stop.
By the time he got back to the street where he left Kiazmo, the police and a cameraman from the news had arrived. A crew was at work trying to tame the wild wires of the fallen telephone pole. The crowd of onlookers had grown a considerable size larger, many of whom were angry partiers whose clubs had mysteriously lost all electricity. He had to be quick.
Sending his voice to Kiazmo's mind, he commanded the little angel to grab Melissa and bring her with them. The short, cloaked figure crept amongst the crowd, weaving through the people like a wicked thief. He found the girl and snatched her. Her muffled screams went unnoticed amid the chaos.
***
Laphelle
Amy opened the door wide for Laphelle's entrance. A gust of night air entered the home with him.
"Your lover's been wounded," he said, hoping for a reaction.
Still draped in the sheet, the woman gasped and broke into tears.
"Where is he?" she said, leaning on the door in despair until it closed.
"I don't know. He might have died on the way here." He listened to her sharp intake of breath and smiled, walking up the stairs. He stopped halfway up, turned around, and sat down. "And if that's the case, it's just you and I, my sweet."
"Hardly," said Malynko, entering with anoth
er cold gust of wind.
Amy screamed at the sight of his wound.
"Oh," she cried, "you're hurt!"
"Yes," said Malynko, closing his eyes. His sheared hair mystically grew back down to his waist, the tendrils writhing like serpents before falling still. "And I need your help."
"Anything!"
"Find six candles. It doesn't matter what size or color, except for one. One must be red. Then you must fetch me a piece of material that would serve as a proper bandage for this cut."
She pointed to the candles on the mantle and he nodded. Then she ran to the kitchen to find a bandage. As she exited, Laphelle turned to the door that had opened and slammed for the third and final time that evening. When he saw that there was more than one person who had come in, he furrowed his brow. And when he saw that the extra baggage was human and female, he rolled his eyes.
"She—she's kicking me!" Kiazmo whined and threw the feisty girl down at Malynko's feet.
Malynko looked at her and smiled.
"How are you feeling, my dear Melissa?" he asked, the earlier, false, youthful charm now replaced with something much darker, much more sinister.
The girl's sights were transfixed on Malynko's wings. Trembling now, she started to back up.
"Is this a dream?" she asked, brushing her hair out of her face.
Collecting six waxen rods from the mantle, Malynko gave a slight shake of his head. He held a red candle in front of him. It had nearly burned itself out, but there was enough wax left for one final blaze. He kneeled down. The blood from his wound soaked through the bandage.
"Amy!" the Elitist shouted. "Hurry! We do not have time to waste tonight!"
She burst into the room with a gauze bandage. After unrolling it with vibrating hands, she handed it to him. He shook his head and told her to hold it.
"Masters of the night divine," he softly chanted, and a warm wind blew through the house. "Hear my plea and join my side."
He kneeled down and placed five candles on the floor in a circle, then slid his ring around the sixth—the red one—that sat in the middle of the others. His wound dripped streams of hot blood up his arm as he held both hands over the candles.
Closing his eyes, he said, "The power to summon has been bestowed unto me and I shall use it for my master's will. As servant of Lucifer, the only god, I command you to serve me."
Wings of the Divided: The Divided Book 1 Page 9
