The Priest And The Demon

Chapter 10

cloud ---/kloud/

verb---(past tense: clouded; past participle: clouded)  

--make or become less clear or transparent.

***

The man was tall, slender, and clearly handsome. I'd seen him somewhere before.

He stared at me with bright sky colored eyes. I stared back at them as they studied me up and down. I stood before him silently observing. He held a clipboard and a pencil that was gipped tightly in his right hand. The man had black, thick-framed glasses which matched his hair. He wore an all-white lab coat with jeans underneath. His stature was very thin but he didn't have any lack of focus. This man bent down and stood up straighter to examine me closer.

My eyes followed every move he made. In a second his eyes met mine. He paused for a short second. "Oh es tut mir leid. Ich bin Syndicat."

The words left his lips, they made no sense.

"What?" My voice sounded the same but I didn't feel like the same person. It was like I was floating.

He blinked. "You speak English."

I nodded. "I do."

"I'm Syndicat," he said again. "Nice to meet you." Syndicat straightened up further and offered his hand to me. My mind became a cloud. I stared at it. My mind couldn't wrap around what I was supposed to do. He reached down, took it and he shook it. His skin was a fire. It returned to my side slowly.

He pushed his glasses up and looked at his clip board, scratched something down and turned back to me. "I bet you're wondering why you're here."

I glanced around. It was an all-white room with florescent lights all around. They were blinding. There were no windows. There was only a white door leading out of here. Metal tables were positioned everywhere along with other tables with sharp looking silver tools on them. My eyes went back to the door.

'This is just a dream. I can ditch this guy and find my way back home,' I thought.

Syndicat cleared his throat and I jerked my eyes to him. I pointed to the tools on the table. "Are you gonna use those on me?" I made sure my voice sounded innocent and scared.

He turned quickly to where I pointed—wide eyed. "N-no. I won't." I knew he fell for my fake fear.

I nodded slightly. "Okay."

For a while we just exchanged eye contact—those blue eyes locked on me. His face was slim like the rest of him. His black hair sat matted on his head. Syndicat ran his fingers through his hair. "You have green eyes, don't you?"

I shrugged. "I suppose."

His pencil danced across the page again, writing something else down.

"What are you writing?" I asked quietly. I leaned over slightly to try and see what he had concocted up.

His eyes darted to me then back down to his paper. He turned it to me. "It's everything that I've learned about you so far. Eye color, height, hair color, language," he paused and looked me up and down, "Gender."

I glanced down at myself. The only thing covering me was a grey dress like cloth that draped over my shoulders, breasts, and hips. It was held together by golden rings at my stomach, back, shoulders, and the sides of my waist. It was elegant, but oddly revealing.