A Dance Of Gods ✓

33. It was worth a shot

Taylor

I don't give myself time to contemplate how I did what I just did. Ambulance sirens-  louder by the second, restrict my ability to think of anything else. Because despite knowing what the outcome will be, I know they'll try to save her. That's something. Maybe the doctor's wrong. Maybe she has a chance...

  Don't do this. Don't give yourself false hope. It'll only make her removal more painful.

  I feel a shaky hand over mine, it's grip weak. It doesn't help when my tears drip everywhere, making it wet.

  "I...love you." She repeats, forcing the words out as blood coats her chin, making her almost unrecognizable. She squeezes once. Her fingers loosen around mine and I loose all grip on reality. I don't care that there are people around. I don't care how many of them see my desperation. I don't care if they think I'm insane, and I certainly don't care if they think I'm dangerous. I see nothing, hear nothing- but I remember the feather in my pocket.

Heavens light....

Surely it has to do SOMETHING.....

Maybe it could buy me some time....

To do what I'm not sure.... But I have to try.

I struggle to pull it out, then drop it four times before getting a good grip. I close my eyes with it in my palms, bowing my head for the first time in days.

She can't die.....

Not yet....

I'm not ready...

I realize how fucking selfish I might sound to any being with the ability to read minds- but I don't care. How could I right now?

"God..." I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "I know I don't get to just request things whenever I want but... fuck it's not her time. I know it isn't. You have to know it. And Rhea is.... She deserves a long human life. So... I beg of you... please, please be merciful. I-"

"Move!" An EMT shoves me out of his way so hard I fall over, scraping my fingertips on the pavement. Michael's feather gets crushed under the boots of another, then when I reach for it- he takes another step and it gets pushed back under the shoes of the crowd.

I want to curl in a ball right here, stay here until everybody's gone and hope another drunk driver or vehicle out of control runs me over- but someone pulls me up and away so the EMT's have space to work with. I don't understand half of the medical terms they shout at each other, but one sticks out:
Internal Hemorrhaging.

I suck in a breath as they argue over whether or not trying to tourniquet her is worth it- then see red when they decide it's pointless. She breathes every ten to fifteen seconds now. Sure, it's not ideal for survival- but she is alive.

At some point, a tow truck arrives. I grip a stranger's arm so hard she yanks it away, trying to rub the fingernail marks out. EMT's force the crowd back, making room for the truck as it grips the back of the Corolla.

As the doctor said, when the car's moved, her body topples forward.

Lifeless.

My tears cease to exist. My anger melts away too. Nothing matters, not Lucifer or Michael, not the strangers calling me back or the Brooklyn police car pulling into a parking spot in front of the cafe.

  I have to get out of here.

  So I do.

I ignore the officer that tries to keep me at the scene and the one who tells him to let me go. I just walk, not caring how far I might go or how long it'll take to find a place private enough to teleport home in one of the largest cities in the country.

  I don't know how long it's been, but with the sun setting- I feel it again: a presence.

  Only this one feels dark, evil. I turn around, looking for the source. Just when I've decided it must be a fluke, a product of my mental state- a hand covers my mouth.

  I bite my restrainer hard, over and over while he pulls me into an alleyway yet they don't budge. Celestial, I decide.

  I buck against them harder, too panicked to think properly. I can't twist my head around to see who it is with how hard they're holding me.

  I drag my feet along the pavement- but it gives no resistance. It doesn't slow them down even a little bit.

  Once we're in the shadows, they suddenly let go- and I crash forward, scraping my cheek on a piece of scrap wood. I crawl away from them- but I almost have a seizure when I get a glimpse at their face.

  "I'm sorry-" he says. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I just needed to get you off the street- too many witnesses and you're verging on a breakdown."

  Motherfucker.

I'd punch him if I had the energy.

"Abezethibou? What are.. what are you doing here?" I ask, my heart rate slowing. He smiles.

"I want to offer you a deal."

My eyes narrow. I know better. I should- but the prospect of a deal right now....

"I find you quite interesting." He shrugs. "I would like to spend some time with you. Perhaps I may be able to heal your friend."

"If?"

"You come with me."

There is a darkness around him, but I chalk it up to being a fallen Angel thing. Rhea... healed? Alive?

The tears flow down my face again.

I allow him to take my hand and teleport me somewhere I don't recognize. I realize just a second too late how stupid that was. Because he hasn't taken me to heaven or hell, or even Area 51. We're in some abandoned warehouse covered in mold and dust.

I don't try to run. I don't scream. I simply stare him down. He can't think he'll get away with whatever he plans on doing to me.

"Dumb bitch-" he laughs. "You really though I was one of the good guys, didn't you?"