by S.B. Rodgers
“Eli and I make a good team, Dad. And Gabe knows where Abby lives and where the school is.” She said matter-of-factly.
Aiden nodded reluctantly. “Alright. Gabe and I will go to her house and the school—hopefully she’s at one of the two. Don’t think you’re getting off easy though. You two are checking everywhere else she might be. The stadium, the mall, the library, cafés, they’re all fair game. Be quick and thorough, and report back to me immediately if you find her. Everybody clear?”
They nodded. “Let’s go, Gabe,” Aiden said, walking towards the door as Fern and Elijah disappeared in a puff of faint white smoke. “We’re taking your car, and you’re driving.”
* * *
Pulling up the hood of his jacket, Gabe stepped out of the car. Abby hadn’t been at the school, though he hadn’t been surprised by that. She wasn’t the type to be at school after-hours. He peered up at her house, eyes squinted against the driving rain—the windows were all dark. No lights were on at all, inside or out. Compared to the night of the party, the place seemed dead.
Glancing around in the rain and near-complete darkness, punctuated here and there by car headlights and the occasional faraway flash of lightning, he walked up to the door and rang the doorbell. It was cold, he thought with a shiver. And he had only been out in this mess for a moment. For what seemed like the millionth time, he hoped that Abby was safely inside the house. He rang the doorbell again, listening to it echo through the rooms.
He reached out his hand a third time, intending to knock, but as his fist connected with the rain-slick wood surface, it slid inwards. The door slowly swung open, revealing the empty interior of the house. “It wasn’t even shut?” Gabe murmured, stepping inside. “Abby?” He called, his voice reverberating off the bare walls. “Abby?!” He cried out from time to time as he searched room after room, making his way slowly towards the stairs that lead to the basement.
Every room was completely empty, devoid of any sign of human inhabitancy. Abby’s room was no different. Everything was gone, and Abby was nowhere to be seen. Gabe was beginning to panic. He couldn’t feel her, couldn’t see her, didn’t know if she was alive or dead or at the mercy of the demon.
He had to calm down. He dashed out of the room, eyes blazing. He had to find her now, before it was too late.
* * *
Abby stood slowly, her muscles burning painfully. Better get going, she thought, lifting the heavy bag with some difficulty. If she didn’t keep moving, she would freeze in her wet clothes. And it didn’t look like another bus was coming. Peering through the glass at the trees whipping back and forth, she couldn’t blame them.
She stumbled out of the bus shelter, splashing through the large puddles that were overflowing and eddying down the sidewalk. The storm had gotten worse, though she hadn’t thought that that was possible. The rain fell fast and freezing, interspersed with tiny icy pellets that stung her cheeks. Wincing, she put the bag down on the driest spot she could find and peeled the soaked hood of her sweatshirt over her head. It clung to her face and neck, moulding itself to her in the deluge.
Abby bent to pick up the bag again and found she couldn’t do it. It was too cumbersome to carry with only one arm, and she knew she shouldn’t let the other dangle awkwardly like that. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes.
She couldn’t believe that she had to abandon the bag, the thing holding all of her earthly possessions and all of her memories—no, not all of them, she decided, ripping the bag open and tossing things aside. She heard something skitter metallically and splash into a puddle. She ignored it. She couldn’t carry everything, she knew, sniffling involuntarily at the thought. She picked up the framed photograph, placed it deep in her damp pants-pocket.
She shivered at the cold metal against her thigh, but felt better, knowing that at least one of her most important possessions was still hers. She reluctantly abandoned the bag and walked into the wind with no idea where she was or where she was heading. She only knew that she had to keep going or she would probably die, completely alone on the street.
* * *
Gabe sped through the flooded streets, water arcing from both sides of the car as he raced along. Aiden stared at him, concerned. “Gabe, I know you’re worried, but getting us killed won’t help Abby!”
Gabe shook his head. “Her house is empty, Aiden. She’s not at school and she sure as hell isn’t at the mall. She doesn’t have anywhere to go, and this is the worst storm I’ve ever seen. I have to find her. If you don’t want to help,” he pulled over, wheels screeching for purchase on the slippery asphalt. “get out.”
He stared into Aiden’s eyes for a moment, watching the older angel’s expression shift from surprise to resolve. “That won’t be necessary. But you need to slow down. Also, roll down your window. Elijah’s standing next to the car.”
Gabe pressed the button for the driver’s window, Elijah’s dripping wet face and blazing white eyes coming into view. “About time! Do you know how hard it is to follow a moving target, especially one going 100 miles an hour?!”
“Sorry,” Gabe sighed.
“I know, mate. Well, she’s not at the stadium, or the library. Not at the café either. Fern and I’ll keep looking.”
Aiden shook his head. “This is getting ridiculous.” Gabe glared at Aiden. “Hear me out. We’re searching for a needle in a haystack with little visibility. We need more help. I say we go back to the house, and I’ll request backup.”
“But she could die!!” Gabe shouted. She was out in this, somewhere, needing his help right now.
“She could be dead already, Gabe. But the only way we’ll find out is if we get more manpower. If we keep going like this, without a doubt she will be dead by the time we find her.”
Gabe barely listened as Aiden gave Elijah instructions, absorbed in his own thoughts. The idea of Abby being dead was the most terrifying thing he had ever heard. He had to find her.
* * *
As she shuffled wearily along on half-frozen legs, Abby realized something. She recognized where she was. She had seen this place once before, though the weather had been much clearer then.
There was no doubt about it, she thought as she took in the mansions that lined the water-logged street. It was wetter than she remembered, but it was definitely Gabe’s street. She didn’t remember turning in this direction, but here she was, the huge house on the hill looming above her as proof.
Her teeth chattered with the cold as the wind rose again. She hoped he was at home. She hurried up to the wrought-iron gate as fast as her stiff limbs could carry her and reached out with trembling fingers to push the call button.
Her hand hovered for a second, shaking. What would she do if Gabe answered, she thought, mind racing. What would she say to him? What could she say to him? He probably didn’t want to have anything more to do with her—she had embarrassed him in front of everyone. She hadn’t even given him a chance to explain, she thought, realising that she may have overreacted. He probably wouldn’t help her, but she had to at least try. Besides, if Gabe wouldn’t help her, maybe his nice uncle would.
Steeling herself she pressed the button, listening to the buzzer. She waited for an answer, for the gates to creak open, or for him to release the hounds, or something. Nothing happened. She pressed the button again. Nothing. Desperately she slammed her hand against it, tears spilling over and burning a path down her swollen cheeks “Please, please, please! Somebody!!” She cried, sobbing as she slowly slid down against the bars, sitting in a sodden heap on the wet driveway.
The frustration, pain and heartbreak hit her all at once and she began sobbing uncontrollably, weeping into her tightly pulled up knees. Her arm throbbed sickeningly, stirring up nausea in the pit of her stomach. Her head hurt and felt several sizes too large. Her breathing was shallow and hot. Leaning back, she rested against the cold black bars. Everything was growing blurry, black spots swimming in front of her eyes. She was exhausted
. She drifted in and out of consciousness, the occasional sharp stab of pain that ran through her arm keeping her anchored in reality.
* * *
A bright orange flash of light jerked her awake, her eyelashes fluttering open for a moment. She tried to lift her head to look around, but couldn’t. Her head was heavy and the world was a blur. Her eyes closed again, her neck bending as her chin came to rest on her chest.
She could hear something that wasn’t the rain, something that sounded like yelling. No…not yelling. Someone was calling her name from far away, their voice growing louder as they drew closer. She tried to answer but didn’t have the strength to move her lips. She knew that voice very well, though she couldn’t conjure the name or face that went with it. She just knew that she felt safe with him, safe and warm. She drifted off into the darkness, out of consciousness as she listened to that voice talking gently in her ear.
Chapter 32
The mirror spun on the stained hardwood, wobbling as it slowed. He reached out to twist it again, to send it spiralling, turning the ruby-eyed serpents into silvery blurs. His hand was stayed by the flash of orange light that pulsed from within the closed compact mirror. Raph picked it up and flipped it open, holding it in front of his face. Satan's emerald eyes, so similar to Abby's, met his.
“Raphael,” her proud voice slithered forth from the silver compact
“My lady.” He said, averting his eyes reflexively.
“Have you heard the news, Thief? The news about your prey?”
Dark eyes widening, Raph continued to look away, fearing his gaze might betray him, betray that familiar twinge in his chest and the burning in his blood that only the mention of her brought about. “No, my lady,” he said shakily.
“Oh? Then listen well—the Guardian has lost his grip on her; she has slipped away from him, and is now wandering. A lost soul, Raphael. Easy pickings.”
Raph stared at the mirror, frozen. “What did you say?” His voice came out as a strangled croak, cracking partway through the question.
The green eyes narrowed. “Abby is dragging herself across the city, lost and broken and utterly defenceless. This is your final chance, Raphael. The perfect moment. Drag her soul down to Hades. Don’t fail me again!”
He heard a click from somewhere far away, and was greeted once again by his own reflection, his own bloodshot eyes, the bruised circles under them belying his sleeplessness over the past weeks. He hoisted himself up, off of the floor and walked over to the large window, carefully dodging the teetering piles of garbage.
Reaching up a hand he yanked on the shutter cord, the blinds fluttering open with a rusty creak. It was unusually dark outside, and he could see the water droplets driving hard against the glass, heard the persistent rushing noise they made. He rested his forehead on the windowpane, closing his eyes for a moment as he tried to calm the thoughts that now raged inside his head. She was out there. Alone.
He growled in frustration, fist smacking with a loud thump against the cold, unyielding glass. Flipping the mirror open again he glared into the reflective surface, studied himself blindly as he turned things over and over in his mind. Glancing outside again, he fished his leather letter-jacket out from under a mound of unwashed laundry and shrugged it on. He briefly contemplated bringing an umbrella, but decided against it; he didn’t think he had one, anyway. “Damn it,” he sighed, focusing on the mirror he was squeezing a little too hard, the jewelled snakes biting painfully into his palm.
“Abigail Shepard,” he whispered, the orange light glowing from the surface of the mirror reflected in his eyes. He slowly reached out his left hand to touch it, fingers outstretched and runes rapidly winding down his arm. His fingertips brushed the surface and the orange light flashed brightly, washing out the cloudy gloom for a few seconds. When the light ebbed away, the room was empty, devoid of the demon and the mirror.
* * *
Raph’s feet hit the ground hard, jarring his entire body and causing him to stumble forward. He looked around. He didn’t see Abby at all, but, then again, he could hardly see anything; the rain swirling around him obscured his vision, limiting him to only seeing a few feet in front of him. He wiped a hand across his face, swiping the water away from his eyes. It was like someone had thrown a bucket of water over him. He was drenched, and he had only been outside for a moment.
Abby, are you out in this? he thought uneasily as his eyes searched for her. All he could see were blurry shapes; windswept trees and lampposts and an old glass-walled bus shelter that the rain slammed into nonstop. Raph squinted; was there someone in there? He thought he had seen something—no, it was on the other side of the clear box; a pile of something, he thought, slicking damp curls off of his forehead with a shove of his hand as he walked forward, bracing himself against the wind and rain.
Gathering his coat around him Raph strode forward, squinting as he approached the sodden, unidentifiable thing behind the bus shelter. He leaned down to get a better look at it, finally recognizing it for what it was. The bag was open, its contents strewn across the wet pavement. A vehicle rolled past, sending a veritable wall of water cascading over him. If he wasn't thoroughly drenched before, he was now. "Wonderful," he muttered, jerkily pushing now-dripping tendrils of hair out of his eyes.
Something to his right sparkled faintly, lit by the trailing headlights of the hum-v. "What's that?" He said quietly, stepping towards it. Abby's mirror, he quickly confirmed as he picked it up, running his thumb over the muddy inlaid serpents. It was this he had come through, but why was it here? And where was its owner? He tucked it into his coat pocket, looking around again for the girl. He knew she wouldn’t leave her mother’s mirror behind willingly, and felt a small wave of panic tightening in his gut.
He dashed back to the small duffel bag, the lambskin collar of his coat pulled up around his ears protectively. He worked quickly, shoving every soaked item into the bag before zipping it up and throwing it over his shoulder. Her life was in that bag; she couldn’t be far. Narrowly avoiding the deep puddles that gathered all over the sidewalk, he moved forward, bent nearly double against the wind. “Stupid girl,” he growled unhappily, “going out in this mess.” Stupid you for going after her, a little voice in his head mocked.
He was trying to think of a snappier comeback than “shut up” when he finally saw her—at least he thought it was her. He blinked hard against the storm, trying to clear his water-blurred vision. There was a shape leaning against the metal gates that lead up to a huge house. “Abby!” Raph called, unable to keep some of the relief from his voice. She didn’t respond, didn’t turn her head, didn’t move at all…The breath caught in his throat as the panic washed over him. “Abby?!”
He threw down the bag and sprinted towards her, dropping down to his knees in front of her prone form. She was slumped against the wrought-iron, head lolling to the side and right arm bent at an unnatural angle. “Abby, come on, wake up…” he murmured, more to himself than to her as he touched her face gently. She moaned softly and shuddered, eyelids fluttering slightly. Her skin was freezing, he noted with alarm, and her lips were nearly blue. You should take her now, the little voice whispered.
Raph felt his chest tighten, that feeling mixed with the panic nearly overwhelming him. He stared at Abby for a moment, watched her body shiver under her thin sweatshirt, torn between his duty and the feeling that screamed inside him, screamed for him to do something. Something inside of him snapped. Sighing heavily, Raph surrendered to the feeling that had been growing for some time now.
He lowered himself down beside her and shrugged out of his heavy jacket, carefully placing it over her. He shivered as his back touched against the wet metal fence and pulled the sodden hood of his sweatshirt up over his face, the jolt through his spine not entirely from the cold. He could feel the angel’s power, the warding against him and his kind. “So you ended up in front of the prince’s castle, huh, Cinderella?” he grunted as he pulled her onto his lap,
wrapping his arms around her.
“And where is he in your hour of need?” he murmured into her soaked hair, pulling her close to his chest. “I can’t heal you like he can, but I can keep you from freezing to death. I can at least keep you warm.” He tapped into his power, the markings shifting over his arms and down his fingertips, the runes blazing a fiery orange path across his skin. They wound over her, blazing softly over her body.
She shifted weakly in his arms, a small sound escaping her lips “Shhh…” he soothed, trying his best to keep her comfortable. He had never taken care of anyone other than himself, and he didn’t even know how to do that very well, if his apartment was any indication. His brow furrowed deeply as he wondered what to do; he couldn’t fix her arm, he didn’t even know what was wrong with it—healing wasn’t really a demon skill, anyway. But it looked like it hurt, hanging limply at that odd angle. He probed it gently, moving his hand up to her shoulder. He didn’t think it was broken, but still...
“I’ll take some of your pain; I think I can do that, at least until your useless Guardian gets back from wherever he is. That guy,” his breath hitched as he redirected some of the tattoos, sending them spiralling over her arm. The force of the pain hit him and he gritted his teeth, blinking back the moisture that sprung to his eyes. “can’t even do his one job right. Then again, neither can I, I guess.” He barked a short laugh at the irony of it all, at the Thief-turned-Guardian he had unwittingly become.
He felt her breathing relax as the fog of pain lifted from her, and she snuggled deeper into his warm embrace. Swallowing, Raph rested his head on top of hers, tucking her to him securely. “I’m no good for you, you know?” He whispered, breath fogging in the cold, rainy night air. He looked out into the darkness from under his wet hood, waiting for the girl’s real prince to appear.
* * *
The cold had reached down to his bones, sapping his strength. Still the runes wound around Abby, keeping her warm and out of a hypothermic state. He breathed deeply and slowly, trying to stay alert. He was concentrating so hard that he almost didn’t notice that familiar surge he felt when angels approached. “Ah,” he blinked, clearing his mind. Again, the jolt of heavenly power, closer this time.
