The White Angel's Prayer

17. And The Gears Run Empty

Every noise felt as if it reverberated throughout Lucy's skull — the transcendent choir building woefully in her ears, assaulting every square inch of the skin down her body, creeping through the folds of her clothes like tiny spiders. Her gaze, however, was fixated on the basketball court ahead of her, void of life, empty except for the snow that covered it with a thin layer.

There was another crash off to the side. Lucy didn't watch as Bhu'ja, yet again, ripped a metal table from its bolted position in the concrete. The nails thudded quietly in the snow before an all too deafening boom resounded across the empty park. Bhu'ja smashed the table against the poles of the red canopy. Everything shuddered precariously, ringing tumultuously, surely attracting the attention of every living being in the area.

Lucy had her ass planted on a metal bench seat. Coldness seeped through her jeans, and she could feel the material growing uncomfortably wet from the puddle of water that seeped towards her. The undercover eating area they'd stopped at to talk had been utterly destroyed in the wake of Bhu'ja's fury.

No talking had ensued, either. In fact, Lucy hadn't uttered a single word since they both realised that she'd been bit. And as she sat there, listening to the horrisonous effects of Bhu'ja playing the strings of wrath and disquietude, she could feel the infection slowly creeping through her bloodstream.

It was an indescribable feeling beyond her capacity to even begin understanding. Lucy could feel her vision un-focusing before focusing again, but she couldn't tell if that was from the infection or an inundation of fear. But when she looked down at her left hand, her fingers twitched minutely, uncontrollably, as if something else was trying to take control.

Surely it couldn't have reached her brain that quickly... but Lucy knew better. She'd been bitten on the shoulder. The infection would've travelled to her brain within minutes. Lucy had seen people turn from similar bites. And quickly.

Bhu'ja roared. He grabbed one of the dented tables he'd thrown earlier and smashed it onto the ground again. There was an ear-splitting boom again, along with the grating of metal, as he almost obliterated the table with his strength alone.

It fell quiet. Too quiet, actually.

As Bhu'ja stood there, his hand holding onto one of the poles of the canopy, breathing heavily, Lucy sat off to the side, staring down as her hand twitched. She briefly squeezed her eyes shut — they needed to have this conversation, and fast. Realistically, Lucy wouldn't make it much further than this, and she'd be damned if she was forced to turn; to take a backseat in her own mind.

"You have to kill me," Lucy said quietly, her voice shaking, as she exhaled—

"H'ko!" Bhu'ja barked immediately, whipping around to face her with a thunderous look in his amber eyes. The aggression in his tone momentarily silenced their conversation, and Lucy slowly turned to look at him. Those eyes didn't belong to Bhu'ja. This... this was something else — something that hadn't been unearthed since Bahtih's death.

Lucy slightly shook her head. "Bhu'ja, I—"

"H'ko!" Bhu'ja's growling bark was sonorous in the otherwise quiet. He took several steps forward and pointed a thick finger at her, his black claw only appearing more wicked in the face of his fury. "You. Cannot. Ask. Me. This."

His words flipped a switch. Lucy's chest lurched, and an all too familiar ache settled deep. Tears burned her eyes, blurring her vision. She tightened her left hand into a fist. "I can't do it myself." Her voice was a pathetic whine.