The Angel's Stone

Chapter 28.

Natascha didn't remember bursting out of the front door, or running as far and as fast as her legs would carry her, but it stuck in her memory when she reached an old grove, slumped against an old fallen tree, and took in her surroundings. One of the few things her mother had repeated to her in the past was that, in times of distress or happiness, she always fled to the environment that best matched her feelings. Looking around at the dead, frozen forest, Natascha confirmed her mother's old claim.

She picked up a small twig and fiddled with it between her fingers, letting her mind wander off lazily. To be honest, she no longer felt angry, but sadness still hovered over her mind like an upset storm cloud; and she was smart enough to know trying to shake it wouldn't do anything. Not, of course, that she had the energy to try.

She didn't want to return to the Institute. She didn't really want to see any of them again. They would all remind her of Angel, and that there was another world living beneath her own. A world she did not want to be a part of.

She just wanted to go home to her dad. It was a completely stupid idea, for her dad hated her and vice versa, but she would give anything to hear the normal sound of her parents fighting again, rather than suffer under the unbearable, lonely silence.

The twig snapped in half. Wait, no, she thought, looking down. Her small branch was still intact. The sound came from behind her, and before she had time to react, burning, acidic hands were around her neck. She gasped and screamed, fumbling for the weapons in her belt while trying to get free. While looking down, she saw a long, boneless hand reach forward, and, while drooping with green slime, poked her belt. The acid melted a large hole in the belt immediately, and it dropped, her stele jingling against the buckle as it hit the ground. Natascha screamed again- why did she come out alone in the woods, even if she did have weapons? No one was here to help her. The demon's arm burned her neck and collarbone as her reached up and, with three fair yanks, tore the tourmaline from Natascha's neck. She gasped, suddenly feeling as though she had hit the ground hard after falling from a cloud. She reached to get it back, but at that moment he released her, and she fell into the dead grass, coughing and spluttering throatily. The demon fled, taking a few steps and than vanishing in a puddle of acid.

She coughed until she could breathe easily, and slowly felt her neck. It was flushing a bright, burned pink, and when she touched it, it felt like someone slapping a recent sunburn. She couldn't believe that just happened. It didn't just happen. She receded her hand-

"Natascha!"

The voice seemed distant. She stared up at the tops of the swaying trees and the sky. Was she hearing voices? Or was that really-

"Natascha- oh my-!" She felt a hand slide under her back, and around to the back of her neck. As she was lifted slightly, it was as though needles had gone into her neck. She cried out, and the hand shifted into her hair instead. She was soon face-to-face to a very pale Dylan, who had dirt smudged on his face and a leaf caught behind his ear, like a fiery moth.

"You had us so worried- where were-what happened to you? Do we need to go back to the Institute?"

Tears slid down Natascha's cheek, and cooled her burning neck. She closed her eyes and said, "They took the tourmaline, Dylan. Th-they have it now. I'm so s-sorry.""