The Angriest Angel

Chapter 11

Avery waited patiently in the interrogation room.  She sat with her legs crossed and her chair pushed back and angled slightly.  A steel table separated her chair from an empty one, and to her right a two way mirror dominated the wall.  No doubt Nathan was there now, watching and waiting.

She casually pulled her purse onto her lap and took out a piece of candy before setting it back down on the floor.  It was called recentes, and was a little piece of home.  She found that they helped her to relax.  Minty and refreshing, they reminded her of a different time and place.  Though calm on the outside, she was quite nervous as she waited for Chase to be escorted in.  Dealing with indigena was always tricky, and she had never dealt with a criminal before.

She touch-checked her hair, ensuring that it was properly in place and professionally appropriate.  Glancing at the time, her thoughts were jerked back to her office job.  Having been absent for more than an hour, she would have to explain.  It wouldn't be difficult; she had plenty of experience with Caelan duties interrupting her earthly job—it was expected.  What she didn't like was her reason for being here—assisting Lafaye.  Helping the Regulus accomplish his task by subverting the people of Earth was not morally right, nor was it how she wanted to spend her time.

Suddenly the door swung open, interrupting her thoughts and forcing her attention upward.  In walked a plain clothed officer with a man in handcuffs.  The officer roughly forced the man into the chair. 

Avery studied his features, trying to get a quick read on whether or not he could be Caelan.  He looked a bit younger than his 31 years.  His height and weight were average, though his build was somewhat athletic.  His shoulders were broad, and his movements fluid and confident.  His medium length brown hair was thick and full, but disheveled; as if he just rolled out of bed.  His eyes were light brown, almost amber colored, and his eyelashes were long, giving him a somewhat innocent look—which Avery assumed was misleading.  His face was symmetrical and his features were handsome, if not for small scars scattered about—even on his lips.  He had two or three days of growth on his beard, further adding to his coarse exterior.

The officer uncuffed one of his wrists and ran the chain through a steel loop on the table, re-fastening it to his wrist once again.

"For your protection, ma'am," he explained.  "We'll be watching, so no harm will come to you.  You will be completely safe, I promise."

The prisoner smirked, and said, "I'm sure she's impressed by that.  Puff out your chest just a little bit more before you go, just to be sure."

The officer smacked him on the side of the head with his open hand.  "Remember who is in handcuffs, idiot.  Try not to act stupid for once."

He didn't relent, "But if I'm just a little more stupid then maybe I can have a job like yours."

The officer hesitated only a second before violently kicking the chair out from under the prisoner.  The force of the blow dropped the man down, but the handcuffs didn't allow him to brace himself properly.  His chin awkwardly clipped the edge of the table and he jerked to a stop when the chains went taut.

Avery jumped involuntarily at the unexpected outburst.

She yelled at the officer, "Stop it!  What are you doing?"

He looked regretfully at the prisoner, who now dangled helplessly from the chains which held his wrists, struggling to pull himself up.

The officer apologized to Avery and helped the man back into his chair. 

The prisoner's lower lip was bright red with blood, but there were no other signs of outward injury.

"His mouth is bleeding," Avery said worriedly.  "Do you have tissues or a handkerchief you can give him?"