Human Feathers: Black and White

Chapter 8: Cheater of Death

The morning lights came on at six o’clock. As normal.

The faint glow coming through the window was what woke Damien from his much-needed night’s rest. With a yawn, he opened his eyes, rubbing the sleep away.

It seemed like he’d just gotten to sleep when the lights went on. But it didn’t matter. Damien didn’t care, even if he did sleep horribly.

But he didn’t have anything to do, and he was sure Rebecca was still resting at the time, so he turned to the darker side of the bed, adjusted the position of his wings, and continued to lay there like a slug.

But as much as he wanted to go back to sleep, he couldn’t. His mind was still restless from the day before.

Damien lay there quietly, his eyes wide open and bloodshot. What the red-eyed Willow said was bothering him deeply. Figure what out? What about himself was worthy of such mind games and distrust?

Surely he had some kind of information already that would help him put the pieces together. His mind wandered for a good while to everything he could remember being told. But he could hardly focus on any of it.

Frustrated, Damien sighed, rolling back onto his wings. With exhausted eyes, he looked sideways at his chocolate-colored feathers, as if he didn’t trust his own flesh.

Did his secret identity have something to do with his race of Avian? He hadn’t even tried to do magic before. Maybe he was still in denial. Too proud to look ridiculous in front of himself. For whatever reason, he hadn’t ever thought about actually trying it.

Well, better late than never.

Damien took a deep breath and sat up, frowning and rubbing his brow. “Ok,” he said out loud, looking around to make sure he wasn’t being watched by anyone (more like anything.) Then he lifted his hand, examining his palm for a moment before he placed it on the lampshade beside him.

“Um… on?” he mumbled, shrugging and shaking his head.

Instantly, the light bulb in the lamp clicked on, illuminating the room with yellow light.

Damien pulled his arm back and jerked away from the lamp like he’d been zapped with electricity. He began panting from the adrenaline and stared at his hand with more interest this time, his mouth hanging open in shock.

What was it that Rebecca said? That Protectors were the ones that did magic? Maybe he was a Protector like her.

But that didn’t explain why the Willow was obsessed with him and not Rebecca as well, so that would mean that Damien was more than a Protector.

“No,” Damien mumbled out loud to himself. Closing his eyes and making a fist with his hand. “The only thing more powerful than a Protector is an Enchanter, and they don’t have wings.” He sighed, falling back down onto the bed with a bounce.

What good was guessing why he was so important when he had no good information to go off of?

Well…

Damien’s eyes opened again as he furrowed his brow, in a sudden thought. There was one more thing he could try, although he already knew it was ridiculous. He sat up slowly, deep in thought. There was one more race. But the odds of being a Ruler were so nearly impossible, Damien almost dropped the whole idea. With a sigh, he lifted his hand again.

“If Protectors have to touch the object…” he said, rubbing the back of his head with his other hand. “Then, I guess, Rulers wouldn’t?”

Ready for disappointment, Damien pointed to the mirror above the desk on the other side of the room. “Break,” he said quietly.