When the Angels Fell

Chapter 5: Visiting Hours

"Blood pressure rising!"

"Her heart rate's spiking!"

"She's going to arrest!"

"Wait....wait...levels dropping...she's stable"

Dr. Khari breathed a sigh of relief and wiped a hand across her brow. Her exposed skin shone with sweat; the temperature in the room had soared ever since they had brought the girl in.

The girl...Abigail was it?...had been a source of confusion to every medical expert that had examined her. She was in perfect health physically; which in itself was no small miracle. The theatre in which she had been found showed all the evidence of a terrible fire, yet none of the locals remembered seeing any smoke or flames.

'Mysteries within mysteries,' Khari thought tiredly. She sat down heavily in the visitor's chair and pulled a sheaf of paper towards her. It was a record of Abigail's condition over the week she had been under her care.

Physically she was undamaged, apart from a deep cut across her shoulder that didn't bleed yet refused to heal. Her mental state, however, was much more complex. Her level of brain activity remained the same as a person in a deep sleep mostly. At random intervals, it would spike at a level beyond the measurement of the instruments and her heart would begin beating rapidly. This had happened twice in the week and still it defied rational explanation.

"Want anything?"

Khari looked up and saw Peter stood by the door.

"No, Peter," Khari replied, smiling at him. "I'll just re-check this then go to sleep"

"Ok then"

Peter left and Khari returned to her notes. After re-reading the same line five times, she decided to give it up for the night. Yawning, she stood up and went to the door. Looking back at the inert form of Abigail lying on the bed, Khari felt a wave of sympathy rise up insider her.

"Goodnight," she whispered, locking the door behind her.

She didn't see the black shadow slip past her, didn't hear the slight click as the door was unlocked. Feeling a prickling sense of unease, Khari turned to face the closed door; looking exactly as she had left it. Putting the feeling down to fatigue, she walked away down the corridor.

Daniel stood beside the bed, looking down at Abigail's sleeping form. He took her hand; unnaturally hot despite the cold weather. Kissing the palm, he slid a ring from his pocket. It was fashioned from a simple silver band, inset with glittering gemstones the shade of dancing fire. He slipped it onto Abigail's finger and sat on the edge of the bed.

She stirred after a few seconds, sitting up with a sharp gasp. Her vision blurred and the prickling heat around her faded. It took her several seconds to register the figure sat on the end of the bed.

"Daniel?" Abigail whispered.

Daniel put a finger to his lips and crept over to the door. Opening it and looking both ways down the corridor, he nodded and turned around.

"Can you walk?"

"I think so." Abigail sat up and the room spun around her. She swung her legs off the bed and immediately regretted it as a wave of nausea swamped her.

"Obviously not," Daniel remarked.

He picked her up and she was drawn to the scent of him; old sweat mixed with a strange, earthy smell. It wasn't altogether umpleasant and she breathed in deeply as he carried her out of the hospital.

Putting her down, Daniel walked over to a motorbike and ran his hand lovingly over it.

"It's...beautiful," Abigail breathed.

It was a sleek, black monster of a machine; the handlebars extending outwards like the horns of some mythical creature. The engine cowling was edged with silver, glittering darkly in the moonlight.

"Strong as a moutain lion and with an engine to match," Daniel declared proudly.

He sat astride and she sat behind him, putting her arms around his waist.

"Hold on tight," Daniel warned, the hint of a smile visible in the darkness.

Then they were gone, roaring away into the night.