It's time for the weekly Silver Flash! I've been so intrigued by my vampire Aaron that I've continued his story this week, so we have another chapter in the Hand of Death. I must admit I'm very caught up in the dark and light contrast of a vampire falling for an angel. I realize this isn't a new concept, but it is one that continues to draw my attention. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
Wishing you Love and Butterflies,
Hand of Death 2 - 11/23/11
A thing of beauty is a joy forever and the voice of an angel in song is so far beyond beautiful and enchanting, there aren’t words. I’d been told about the voice of the angels, but never having met one, I couldn’t imagine it’s power. An angel’s song attracts any being with a soul to its side. The more pure the soul the greater the attraction, but I’d never thought his song could be so captivating as to touch and hold a corrupt soul as dark as my own.
I move like the killing machine I am. Before his song’s over, I’ve killed the two guards who stand outside the SUV and I’m creeping up on the driver, who still sits behind the wheel. I chance a glance at him as he begins a second song. He’s sitting in the grass, a sad, serene smile on his face. His wings shudder as the children begin to gather around him. That’s when it strikes me. The way his hands twitch spastically. His movements, which for an angel should’ve been smooth and graceful, are halting. Something’s dreadfully wrong with the man.
I knock on the driver’s window and the idiot opens the door and makes like he’s gonna step out. He’s dead before his foot touches the ground.
“Hey Jerr—” His passenger begins, but I cut him off in mid-sentence, slicing his throat. I pile the bodies back in the vehicle. The windows are dark. It’s too bad I have to leave it here; the dead will probably be discovered by some curious kid, but I need to get the angel out of here. Now.
I stand beside the vehicle, making sure there’s no blood on my clothing. He’d smell it of course, but there’s no sense in scaring the kids. I sheathe my gladius and head across the grass, plastering a smile on my face that I hope won’t scare the kids too much. I have to get him out of here before Sebastian’s keepers realize their angel’s gone. I don’t know who the real evil is behind this farce, but I know enough to know that this guy’s the scapegoat, as well as the bait, and he’s as much a victim as the kids being led to the slaughter.
“Sebastian, time to go.” I say when I reach his side.
“Aww. Can’t you stay for one more song? I’ve never seen an angel before.” One little girl gazes at Sebastian with big brown doe eyes. I sincerely hope she won’t be the one to discover the dead bodies in the SUV.
Sebastian stares at me, a frown crossing his face as he looks first to me and then to the vehicle. The scent of fresh blood must be coming off of me in waves. “Ah—no kids. I’m sorry. I have to leave now. Go… be good...” he stammers. I hold out my hand and he takes it. I draw him to his feet.
I can smell more blood. Not the vile thick blood of those I’ve just killed, but a sweet nectar that’s seeping from the abused flesh of his bare feet. Angels don’t normally walk. They hover above the ground, the power of magic in their wings keeping them afloat. The soles of the soft ravaged skin, torn and pierced, seep ambrosia of the highest quality into the ground. I sweep him into my arms and carry him from the park faster than any man can see.
He’s slight, more the weight of a human man—an unhealthy human man, but still heavier than a pureblooded angel. His wings have disappeared; one of the children of the fallen then. Only the fallen have the power to hide their wings. True members of the heavenly host can’t hide what they are. His wings clipped like a common caged bird, his magic along with them. He sighs and rests his head against his chest.
“Where are the guards?”
“They won’t bother you anymore. I’ve taken care of them.”
“You’ve killed them?”
“I’ll pray for their souls.” Sebastian bows his head against my chest, whispering his prayers as we approach my ride. A red, sleek four-cylinder Dakota Indian motorcycle. I ignore what he said. I’ve no understanding of a creature that would pray for the souls of his tormentors. Death I understand. “You’re here to kill me.” It isn’t a question.
“No. Not you. There’s a mistake.” I sit him gently on the pinion seat. “Have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?”
“Why would you think there’s a mistake? Because of what I am? I’m guilty. As guilty as the guards you killed without remorse for their participation in this vile escapade. The evil rests on my soul, despite what I am. I’m no longer pure, just sweet enough to attract the innocent.” Sebastian stares at the ground at my feet, as if waiting for the blow.
“I don’t care what you are. Those coerced into doing evil are no more responsible than the victims themselves. A mistake has been made.” Sebastian will be cold, riding on the motorcycle. He wears only a pair of jeans. No shirt covers his magnificent golden chest. Cold doesn’t bother me. Being a vampire, my kind don’t suffer much from the bite of weather. I strip the duster from around my body and put it on him, securing the buttons across his chest.
I flip down the pegs on either side of the cycle for him to place his feet. “Keep your feet on those,” I instruct him. “The exhaust gets hot, so be aware what you’re doing. You’ll need to hold on to me around the waist, tightly, and lean with me on the corners, even if it feels like we’re about to tip. Be mindful of my movements and don’t fight against the pull.”
****Other Silver Flashers: