Azrael

Three

Adira stayed put, patiently waiting for the building's backup generator to hum to life, but there was nothing but the relentless pattering of raindrops outside. Her phone was still dead, but she grabbed a flashlight from her drawer and made her way towards the stairs, nearly stumbling in the process and muttering a few choice words under her breath.

"Hey, Blake!" she called out, her voice echoing in the darkness. "Did the generator run out of gas or what?"

Adira didn't receive a response and assumed Blake had gone to check on the machine from the back. She took cautious steps, moving slowly until she reached the rear door. With her flashlight illuminating the area, she discovered no trace of Blake. Frustration made her call out his name, and her breath hitched as a slash of crimson caught her eye in the feeble light.

A thin, red streak stained the concrete, and droplets slid down from the door handle outside. Adding to the eerie scene was a smear of blood on the wooden door, left behind by a handprint.

Adira's heart was racing in her chest, and instinct took over as she hurried back inside. She called out for Blake, her voice echoing through the house. She sprinted up the stairs, but before she could reach the safety of her room, a force slammed into her side. The air was knocked out of her lungs as something pressed against her chest, making it impossible to scream. A strong arm wrapped around her and gripped her by the neck, pulling her head back. Adira fought back with every ounce of strength she had, kicking and thrashing, desperately attempting to claw at the firm wrist, but nothing seemed to work.

And then when something sharp pierce her neck, Adira screamed.

Her neck was locked in a vice-like grip, and the sensation of searing heat shot through her neck, shoulder, and chest. The pain intensified in an instant, but just as swiftly, it disappeared, leaving her crumpled on the floor.

Gasping for breath, she lay on the cold marble surface, her hand instinctively reaching towards her neck. Warm, sticky blood flowed beneath her fingertips as she frantically tried to assess the situation. The backup generator thrummed into life, and the lobby filled with light.

The shadowy form of a man stood in front of her. He was as still as a statue,  and when her eyes adjusted she saw who it was.

"Blake?"

"Your father-"

And then the air behind the man she once called her doorman shifted, and his shadow seemed to twist solidify before Adira's eyes.

He made a gurgling sound in his throat as someone appeared behind him and a wuick movement was followed by a sharp piercing sound.

The masked figure stepped away and watched Blake crumple to the ground. They then glanced around the room, and satisfied with whatever their findings were, visibly relaxed, hands down to the side.

Adira's brow furrowed. "Are you with them?"

"No," the stranger said with a shrug, holding out their hand to help Adira up.

The hand that pulled her up was soft and delicate, but also strong, helping her stand with little effort.

"Who are you?" Adira leaned forward to try to get a closer look at the woman, but she wore a black silk scarf that covered the lower half of her face, from the bridge of her nose down. Her eyes showed, however, and Adira's eyes grew wide with recognition.

"I saw you earlier, with the cards," she confirmed. "Did you follow me?"

"That does not matter," the masked woman said with an almost carefree patience. "You have something of mine."