The Witch's Angel

by Arissa L. Utemark

  “Yeah.” Luke agreed quietly to himself as he skidded to a halt just before he got to the edge of the overpass. “She’s gonna kill me, too.”

  Luke ignored the screeching hisses of the knightmares behind him for a split second to spare a small glance at the completely unforgiving pavement twenty feet below him. He carefully didn’t think about what it would feel like to meet that concrete in the most painful way possible if this didn’t work.

  He took a deep breath and heaved himself over the side into heart-dropping open air.

  The knightmares slithered up to the edge, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Queen’s newborn Angel fall to his death, their laughter wheezing out from their twisted mouths.

  They leaned tentatively over the side, but were blown back when Luke swooped upward with a powerful stroke of his magnificent wings, catching a warm updraft from the concrete below and shooting upwards.

  “Shoulda stretched first.” Luke said through clenched teeth. He winced at how the air against his wings pulled his sore muscles painfully. He felt his legs kicking at the air clumsily and his hands grasping at nothing as he wobbled alarmingly. A glance from where he had jumped showed a few knightmares slop over the side of the overpass, unable to stop their pursuit in time. He breathed a sigh of relief, listening to his new flying instincts to try and stabilize himself.

  As soon as the relieved sigh escaped his lips, every inch of breath was knocked out of his body when something collided with him mid-air.

  He tried to slow his spiraling fall, his limbs flailing, but the ground rushed up at him too quickly. Someone grabbed two fistfuls of his shoulders painfully to slow his fall just enough to heave him into a soft pile of trash bags.

  Luke paused in breathless panic for a moment, not quite believing that he survived his dizzying fall. He untangled himself from the garbage pile and stumbled to his feet.

  “What…?” Luke gasped briefly before he heard the sharp sound of two feet hitting the pavement behind him. He whirled around to face his attacker.

  The woman was strikingly beautiful, with a mane of bright red hair and eyes the color of fresh leaves.

  “You need to come with me.” The woman commanded, walking toward him, folding her fiery red wings against her back. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Luke took a defensive step back, trying to give his aching muscles time to recover.

  “Who are you?” Luke demanded, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Are you working with Cale?”

  “King Calen.” The woman corrected.

  “I think we both know that’s not true.” Luke countered. “Why’s he so angry? Because his name sounds like a terrible vegetable?”

  “Watch it, newborn.” The woman warned. “That man is your King. Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

  “I understand enough.” Luke said, leveling his gaze at the woman. “That murderer isn’t my King and never will be.”

  “Have it your way.” The woman bared her teeth and shot forward, throwing her fist into Luke’s jaw, sending him stumbling backward. She went for him again and he threw up an arm to block her kick as her foot came flying at his head. He grabbed her ankle and twisted, sending her into the concrete. She turned her body midair to land on her front, bracing herself as she lashed out, sweeping Luke’s legs out from under him.

  Luke fell, unable to get his wings folded in time, and landed hard on the joint where his sore new limbs met his spine. A shout burst from him as white-hot agony exploded across his back. He saw Talia get to her feet as he rolled onto his side, painfully folding his wings against his body.

  “Not quite used to those wings yet, are you?” Talia asked, reassuringly winded. Luke could do nothing but give gasping, choked coughs, clenching his fists and squeezing his eyes shut against the pain. “Too bad.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Luke finally croaked.

  The woman’s face grew pinched. She shoved his shoulder with her foot so that he rolled onto his back. Luke sucked in air through his teeth as he landed on his still throbbing wings. She put her boot on Luke’s chest and leaned down, grabbing a chunk of hair on the top of his head and pulling until his gaze met hers.

  “Do what you’re told.” She hissed, the look in her green eyes bordering on desperate. “Keep your head down and you might survive this, Newborn.”

  Pain exploded across Luke’s cheekbone as she punched him, once, then a second time. There must’ve been a third blow, but he lost consciousness before it fell, his body going limp against the concrete.

  Chapter 31

  I felt the cold, hard tile under my back as I tottered toward consciousness, squeezing my eyes against the sun that was burning against my face. I knew I couldn’t keep lying here, but my fuzzy brain was having trouble remembering why. There was something…something important…

  My head was pounding. I rolled to the side, burying my face into the soft material I was using for a pillow, breathing the comforting scent that came off of it. I cracked my eyes open to see the blue sweatshirt fuzz of the inside of Luke’s hoodie. I smiled and buried my face deeper into the fabric, his spicy scent filling my senses.

  Luke.

  Oh, shit. Luke!

  My eyes flew open and I jerked into a sitting position.

  “Oh, fuck.” I groaned in instant regret as a wave of nausea swept over me. I sat for a moment, one fist clenched in Luke’s hoodie, the other clutching my aching head as I fought to get my shit together.

  Well, I think we can all agree that getting my shit together is not going to happen, but at that moment, I would’ve settled for not vomiting.

  I wobbled to my feet and looked around at the carnage of the diner. Tables were knocked over, glass was broken, and the large hole in the storefront where sunlight was streaming through the jagged concrete and twisted metal was not going to be a quick fix. My hopes were high that all of the patrons had gotten out safely before I caught sight of a large pool of blood at the corner of my eye.

  “Oh, Carl…” I moaned, swallowing a wave of grief as I leaned against the counter with my fists clenched, squeezing my eyes shut to the sight of what was left of Luke’s partner. My heart twisted painfully at the sight. I knew the after effects of a knightmare’s bite on a human when I saw it.

  I walked slowly around the bar, grabbing a spare tablecloth from behind the counter, unfolding it and landing on my knees beside the body. Tears stung my eyes as I threw open the fabric and draped it over him, watching the blood soak patches of red onto the fabric. I bowed my head as I laid my hand over him in silent comfort, sending a spark of my power to help his spirit find its place.

  My heart lurched painfully as I had a sudden gut-wrenching hope that someone had done the same for my mother.

  Before I had a chance to devolve into a complete mess, the sound of crunching debris under someone’s feet distracted me.

  I looked up to see Theo walk in through the front door, despite the fact there was a gaping hole letting sunlight stream into the diner. The movement caught the bell on top of the doorjamb, making it ring absurdly through the empty restaurant.

  A crushing wave of relief washed over me at seeing him alive. He had a few cuts and bruises and seemed to be favoring one of his legs, his clothes dirty and torn, but he was alive and he was here. I could have cried at the happiness I felt.

  He made a beeline for the bar, looking over the edge to the floor where I had been lying. He leaned back and scanned the diner, obviously searching for something.

  “Danny?” He asked, looking around at the carnage of the restaurant. I narrowed my eyes at the fact he knew I was here.

  Wait a second.

  “You-!” I sputtered.

  Theo turned to me and smiled hollowly as I got to my feet, stomping over to him.

  “How’s the head?” He asked with infuriating calmness. My blood rushed with anger at the sight of his joking face. All the sudden we were kids again and he was hell-bent on pissing me off like it was his fucking job. />
  “You son of a bitch!” I shouted.

  “I’m your brother, Danny. That insult doesn’t do you any favors, either.”

  “You think this is funny?” I hissed.

  “No, just what you said.” Theo returned. “Why are you so cranky?”

  “I am not cranky! You shut the fuck up!” I snarled. “I’ve been thinking you were dead or worse for days.”

  “I’m okay now.” Theo reasoned, still in that same calm voice.

  “You come here and you-! I know there were more knightmares that you took on by yourself.” I accused. “I could’ve-!”

  “Could’ve, what, Danny?” Theo challenged, interrupting my tirade. “As long as we’re talking about things that we know, I can tell you I know you were about to do something stupid.”

  “Oh, like that’s a new thing!” I retorted.

  “Why are you this close to the Beacon?” Theo asked, his voice dangerously calm.

  “Listen-“

  “Danny!” Theo interrupted me. “Why are you this close to the Beacon?”

  “You know why.” I growled venomously as I met his burning gaze with my own. He stared at me for a few seconds, and then rolled his eyes skyward. I suddenly had a tremendous urge to beat him stupid.

  “Unbelievable.” Theo muttered. “Un-fucking-believable!”

  “What?” I challenged.

  “When are you going to get it, Danny?” Theo thundered. “You’re important. You’re important and there’s no way I’m going to let you throw our life away because Cale turned into a psychopath!”

  “Well, maybe that’s the only way.” I said.

  “Why are you so goddamn determined to die?” Theo demanded, taking me by the shoulders.

  “Because it’s my fault!” I shouted, my voice starting to show its cracks as I shoved him away from me. Theo’s eyebrows had drawn together and his lips were parted in shock at what I had said, stumbling backward a few steps.

  I felt everything I had forced down, pushed aside, and ignored over this ordeal turn into a painful vacuum in my chest, threatening to pull me inside out. I felt the guilt choking me and I couldn’t fight it back. I felt every single mistake I had ever made form a crushing burden on my shoulders, on my head, on my heart.

  “It’s my fault.” I continued, hating every warble my voice made, the tears a stranglehold on my throat. “He warned me. Patrick…Patrick fucking told me…he stood there and warned me that something was going to happen…that something bad was going to happen to us and I didn’t…I didn’t listen. Now…now he…now everything…now Mom…”

  The rest of my sentence was choked out in a sob. I sank to my knees, gasping, wrapping my arms around my chest to keep it from caving in under the weight on me. It hurt…it was my fault and it hurt…oh my god, it hurt…

  “Oh, Danny.” Theo breathed in a gentle voice that hit me like a sledgehammer, his concern amplifying the pain exponentially. I vaguely felt him sink down in front of me and gather my uncooperative body into his arms. He squeezed me, the pressure pushing me against his chest almost too much, but at that moment, it felt like it was all that was holding me together.

  “I didn’t listen…” I heard myself wail against his shirt. “I didn’t listen, I didn’t listen, I didn’t listen…”

  “Nobody could have seen this coming.” Theo said softly. “Nobody. Pat was talking about knightmares. You’re not responsible for everything. Nobody could have seen what Cale was going to do. None of this is your fault.”

  “Mom would’ve.” I choked. “Mom would’ve seen it. Mom would’ve known.”

  I felt his breath hitch in his chest and I wrapped my arms around him tightly as I felt his tears wet my shoulder. We held each other for a few moments, sitting in the middle of the rubble.

  “She picked you for a reason, Danielle.” Theo whispered. “If you don’t have faith in yourself, at least have faith in Mom.”

  I took a deep, shuddering breath, drinking in his words, thinking about my mother. He was right. Of course that asshole was right.

  Get your shit together, Danny.

  “This has gotten so bad.” I said miserably.

  “I know.” He comforted.

  “I’m glad you’re okay.” I sniffed. Theo rubbed his cheek against my hair.

  “You, too.” He returned, clearing his throat.

  “If you try to take on an entire horde of hellspawn by yourself again, I will shut you in a fucking car door.” I told him, wiping my nose on my sleeve as I leaned back to face him. He wiped some of his own tears away.

  “I wasn’t by myself. I met Luke.” Theo defended before a grin spread across his face. “Nice work.”

  “Thanks.” I said. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know.” Theo’s smile disappeared as his lips pressed in a grim line. I felt my heart sink. “We split up to lose the knightmares. We were supposed to meet back here; he should’ve beat me.”

  I could tell by the look in his eyes that he had a hunch about what happened, he just didn’t want to tell me. Unfortunately, I already knew what Luke’s absence meant.

  I wiped my face clean with my sleeve, taking one cleansing breath to clear my sinuses. I couldn’t whine anymore. No more crying, no more wallowing.

  Wallowing Time had now passed.

  It was now quarter till Saving the Fuckin’ World O’Clock.

  “How many were after you?” I asked.

  “A lot, but not as many that went after him.” Theo answered. He looked over at me. “This is not good.”

  “No, it’s not.” I agreed as I got to my feet and stepped out of the hole in the diner into the sunshine. I heard sirens in the distance and I knew we needed to hurry. The remains of one of the small trees that lined the city street lay splintered into pieces by the knightmares across the sidewalk. Just what I needed.

  “Maybe they just took him.” I heard Theo say to comfort me as we walked over to it. “He’s okay. They just took him to the Beacon.”

  “That’s exactly where they took him.” I confirmed.

  “How do you know?”

  I took hold of one of the branches of the fallen tree and bared my teeth as I wrenched part of it free. I gripped the wood, feeling the power of the Earth flow into my body, as if the wand itself were eager to help me avenge the tree, the mother that bore it from the ground toward the Heavens.

  “Because I am Queen of Witches,” I affirmed, “and he’s the Queen’s Angel.”

  Chapter 32

  Luke shifted his aching shoulder against the cold ground as he found his way to consciousness, gritting his teeth against the cruel pressure around his chest and aching wings. The attempt to remove whatever was restraining his wings proved to be futile, however, when he felt metal handcuffs locking his arms behind his back.

  He groaned as he opened his eyes, greeted by the sight of dingy green tile illuminated by a flickering fluorescent bulb overhead. Bare concrete met the green tile halfway up the wall. The grim décor reminded Luke of the interrogation rooms down at the station, sturdy components carefully chosen, easily hosed off when the need arose. He imagined this room probably served a similar purpose, but built so neither Witch nor Angel could draw power from the materials.

  “Damn it.” Luke groaned, trying to shift around so he could sit up, hindered by the wing restraint around his chest.

  “Not yet.” A voice against the far wall wheezed. “But I imagine we’re headed there.”

  Luke scrambled around to face the voice; ready to give his best shot at defending himself from whomever they had put in here with him.

  Another Angel sat brokenly against one wall, his clothes rumpled and torn, cuts and bruises littering his skin, skin that was pale with a sheen of sickly sweat. His wings were sprawled on either side of him. One sat limply against the floor, awkwardly skewed and obviously painfully broken.

  The other wing was skewered into the wall with a metal pipe about an inch in diameter. Judging by the Angel’s heavily lidded eyes and
the breath that was coming in shallow gasps, the puddle of blood from his perforated wing wasn’t the only blood that he had lost.

  “Patrick?” Luke asked tentatively, his gut twisting in sympathy at the General’s injuries.

  “Who are you?” Patrick asked instead of answering.

  “Danny’s…Danny’s Angel.” Luke told him, bracing his elbows on the ground before sliding his shoulder up the wall until he was in a sitting up. “My name’s Luke.”

  “You’re a Newborn.” Patrick reasoned, squinting at him. Luke rolled his eyes.

  “I really wish everybody would stop calling me that.” He groaned, shifting in the handcuffs.

  “You have to be. Every Angel reports to me at least once.” Patrick explained fuzzily.

  “Then you are Patrick.” Luke confirmed. Patrick’s eyebrows drew together, blinking in confusion.

  “Didn’t I say that?” He slurred curiously.

  “No.” Luke answered. “Are you okay?”

  Patrick gave him a deadpan look, blinking at Luke slowly. His glanced over at his bloody wing, then back at Luke pointedly. Luke winced, feeling instant regret for the question.

  “Do I look okay, Infant?” Patrick said blankly.

  “You’re right.” Luke agreed. “Sorry.”

  “It’s of no consequence.” Patrick waved off the apology, baring bloody teeth in a wince as he carefully adjusted his position slightly. “Is Danny safe? Don’t say where she is, just tell me.”

  “Yes.” Luke confirmed. Patrick breathed a heavy sigh of relief before squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing hard.

  “And…and Theo? Have you heard from him?” Patrick asked in a small voice that seemed out of place in his sturdy baritone. Luke could tell the General was barely keeping himself together just asking the question.

  “He’s okay.” Luke told him immediately. “With Danny.”

  “Good.” The word burst from Patrick’s lips, the Angel blinking as a few tears escaped his eyes. His body relaxed as much as possible in the position it was in with another tremendously relieved sigh. “Good, good, good.”

  “Why are we still alive?” Luke mused, casting his eyes around their cell, giving the General his moment.