Convoke

Chapter 56

Tom woke early enough for the golden light of dawn to stream through the crack in the drawn curtains. He stretched and settled into the bedsheets, until he remembered the panic of Ezra returning late last night.

He turned on the bedside lamp, peering down at the demon who was thankfully fast asleep. His bruises had worsened. One eye was puffy and purple, bruising deeply under the socket. The cheek was a mixture of green and pink, bruising too. His nose had a deep cut across the bridge that had thankfully stopped bleeding.

A large cut on his forehead was sutured together, but there was bloody seeping through the bandage that he and Neasa had wrapped around his head. Tom carefully tended to it, holding Ezra's neck and unwrapping and rewrapping.

Ezra stirred a little, which was a good sign. Though he didn't fully wake, and soon was breathing deeply again.

Tom stared worryingly at his bruised ribs. Those were horrifying bruises, deep purple, stretching all across his chest. Some in splotches, some in thick lines with no skin colour in between. Tom could only imagine the pain and wondered what had happened.

Who had Ezra visited? Why had they hurt him so badly? Had Ezra lost his temper, or did he have a dark past, full of bad people?

He sat patiently on his bed, staring down at him until the tiredness kicked in, though he couldn't sleep again. Instead, he got up and joined his family in the kitchen. Neasa was filling their parents in on what had happened last night.

"How is he?" Declan asked while Moira hurried to make him coffee.

"Sleeping. Before you ask, I have no idea what happened. He couldn't say much last night." Tom sipped at his coffee, wondering if he looked as tired as he felt.

"Where did he go?" Moira asked.

Tom sighed, wondering how much he should tell his parents. He wasn't accustomed to keeping secrets from them. They didn't gossip about his life, but there was still a protective silence within him, wondering if they would be safer if they knew nothing.

"He went to investigate something. I don't know why he came back beaten half to death." Tom ran a hand through his hair, blowing his coffee, so he could drink deeply without burning his mouth.

"Investigate what?" Moira asked.

"I'll tell you when-"

"The angels?" Neasa interrupted.

"Why would he investigate the angels?" Declan asked.

"Haven't you heard the rumours?" Neasa said, frowning. "Everyone in the village is talking about their dreams. Some have said that maybe the angels have something to do with it."

"Their singing," Moira said. "I've heard a similar rumour.

Something churned Tom's stomach. The gossip was working, but if the angels knew they were the heart of it, would they be punished? And if the angels were responsible, would they be harsh?

"I'm gonna go lie down," he mumbled.

"Probably for the best love, you look like shit."

"Well thank you very much," he said sarcastically, smiling at her on his way back to Ezra.

Before getting back into bed, he opened the curtains, wanting to let some light and fresh air into the stuffy space. As he did so, he noticed an angel staring patiently up at the house. She smiled when she saw him, and tapped her wrist, the way they did when they were waiting for a soul stripper.

She had long curly black hair, dark skin and even darker brown eyes. The sun streamed through the trees behind her, casting an angelic scene that made Tom want to paint it, to capture it in a photo, to sit on his windowsill and lock it in his memories.