Capricorns and Devil Horns

More Of An Angel

I'd expected him to take a running start, maybe even shoot at the door with an epic bolt of lightening shooting from his fingertips. But, no, the door had already been unlocked when he tried the handle, so the two of us crept right in.

The door was brought us into the living-room, where the floor was scattered with brightly-coloured children's toys I frowned upon seeing the framed photo on the mantle piece. It displayed Jamie and his late wife smiling widely as she cradled a tiny baby in her arms. It was Jamie's Facebook profile picture too.

"Before we got to the stairs, Morgan stopped dead in his tracks.

"What?" I asked in a whisper.

"You said he was widowed?"

"Yes...

"And he wasn't actually at the convention. Just in the cafe?"

"Yes...?"

"Has he mentioned an engagement on Facebook?"

"No..."

"She's not following her own pattern." Morgan concluded.

I furrowed my brows.

"What does that mean?"

Morgan opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off my a yell of terror coming from upstairs- "Oh my God! What are you doing?", which was then followed by what sounded like a roar of agony. We looked at each-other for a second, before bolting up the stairs and bursting into the room with the open door, Morgan brandishing the knife like a mighty sword.

Hannah was not there.

The large window facing the door was open, however, and Jamie was laid back on his bed. Both hands and feet were hand-cuffed to each bedpost with black fluffy cuffs. He was stripped down to nothing but his boxers. Though I'd spent a lot of time age 14 thinking about what Jamie Ruben looked like in just boxers, I couldn't fully appreciate it just now. Where I'd always imagined a six-pack of abs, there was a white stiletto heel penetrating his skin. Blood dripped from the corners of his parted lips and spattered the sheets.

"She's gone!" Morgan bellowed, studying the window, "We have to go after her!"

"What about Jamie? We have to help him, Morgan!"

All Jamie could do was stare at us both, wide-eyed.

"Who...who...who?" He spluttered.

"Try not to talk, okay?" I told him, rushing to his side, "It's me, Nora. Nora Priestly from school. Art club. Do you remember me?"

He nodded slowly, still with a look of terror.

"I'm here to help you. I know this is strange, but trust me. I'll explain everything later."

"I'm going after her." Morgan said turning for the door.

"No you bloody well aren't! You're going to get your ass here and help me!"

He stomped his foot on the floor like a child, before walking to my side.

"The wound doesn't look that deep. It can't have done much damage to his organs, but if we leave it much longer, he'll bleed out." I observed.

"Stand aside." Morgan told me and I went about uncuffing him with the keys that were on the floor by the window.
Morgan rubbed his hands together, before placing his hand over Jamie's head. His eyes closed and his head drooped down.

"What did you just do?" I spluttered.

"Don't worry, Dear, I just knocked him out. He doesn't want to be awake for this."