A Toy With Wings

Twelve

"Jezebel what the fuck?" I exclaimed as I wake up drowsily.

Jez doesn't reply, she just goes on screaming, until Kev and Evangeline are both awake.

"Jezebel!" Kev exclaims.

After a few frantic minutes, she finally calms down.

"What happened?" I ask.

"I checked my phone, and I saw the breaking news…" Jez begins as a silent tear drizzled down her cheek.

We're all silent for a moment.

"I'll summarize it," I quickly volunteer. "If you don't mind."

"I don't mind," sniffs Jez.

I start reading the breaking news on my cell phone. "No…"

"What?" asks Kev.

"Tasty Tucker's assassinated minutes after we left!" I exclaim. "Four young people demanded by name, Black Jack, Jeremiah Aviator, Diana Artemis Chase and Charlie Verona! Two men found dead at the crime scene!"

Evangeline grabbed the phone from ne and started to read aloud. "The first victim was a man and little-known adventurer named Lucas Finn. He was found slashed once in the neck, thrice in the stomach, and his head was smashed in with a hammer of some sort."

"Ew," I say, picturing the details.

"Oh my gosh," said Kev. "The guy who saved us was called Lucas. You don't suppose…"

"I think that's the case," I reply grimly.

"The other victim was a merchant named Ramol Skyward," Evangeline read with pain and blatant agony in her voice. "He was shot six times in the arms and legs, beaten, lightly scraped with a blade and left to die. Oh my god, I can't believe this."

Jezebel, seemingly so tough and confident, was breaking down before my eyes.

"The CCTV has shown a total of three hooded and masked men, demanding for four teenagers by name. When that was turned down, people, that's synonymous with humans, started fleeing. Only the two victims stayed behind to fight. Two took care of Finn, while the third bartered with Skyward.

"In the midst of the argument, both men kept mentioning somebody called Amber, and Skyward is seen saying the same person's name as he lies dying. If you know what he might be talking about, please call this police hotline…" Evangeline reads.

I glance sideways at Jez. "We'll find Amber, I promise."

"Thanks," she says. Then, after a moment of silence, she adds, "Orson, I hear angels have died during field missions before. If I don't make it…" she holds back a tear, "Please give Amber this." She hands me a small rectangle of yellowed, folded-up paper.

"I'll keep it safe," I say, pocketing it. "But why me? Evangeline's smarter. Kev can-"

"You're a survivor, Orson, that's why I trust you. Thanks, I guess," replies Jez.

"Team?" Somebody interrupts.

"Yes, Kev?" I ask.

"I think we should go check out the coal-mining caves, and the volcanoes as well."

"Sure."

"We go now."

My phone rings as we go. It's Goodie again. I ignore him, unblock him, text him…

You little sh*t! You're useless, and you're a f*cking b*tch. A f*cking toddler knows more than your stupid, perverted ass, so don't you ever dare f*cking text me ever again.
-Orson

…and reblock him.

The mines aren't a pretty sight. It's average, with lots of rock and sand and stuff. And we get attacked.

Shirams. Why did it have to be Shirams?

About twenty of them approach us at the same time, wielding weapons.

The lead one steps forwards and deadpans, "Did you kill our brother?"

"Which one?" asks Kev, which probably isn't the smartest thing to say.

The Shirams take that as a yes and advance with weapons drawn.

"Well, shit!" I say as I draw my sickle, and start dueling a Shiram scumbag.

Next to me, Kev's katana whirls and slashes. Evangeline yells taunts as she fights.

Somewhere in my two o'clock position, Jez let's out a war cry. "For Lucas and Ramol Skyward!" she screams as she impales a Shiram.

I have been too distracted watching the battle, I don't notice a Shiram trying to stab me with her machete until the last moment. I frantically twist my blade with hers, but that results in a heavy slash at my sickle arm (what? you call your sword-holding hand your sword arm, so why not call your sickle-holding hand your sickle arm?).

I'm bleeding profusely. I keep bleeding, and I wish so bad that the pain would just go away. I can hardly fight. My arm hurts so bad.

I stumble forward to drive away the Shiram, but as I cut, blood splatters on the floor.

It's my own.

My arm hurts like fuck. A trickle of the crimson stuff drizzles down my arm. I will myself to concentrate. I have to keep on fighting.

But the pain…so acute. So agonizing. I can barely keep my eyes focused on battle.

The Shiram smirks, and kicks me to the floor. "Imbecile," she sneers.

My life flashes before my eyes. I'm dying today, at only sixteen, for sure.

"Fuck off," I tell her.

She just smiles and raises her machete, bringing the blade down on my good arm. She pauses, however, and asks me an odd question. "Do you like art, you fool?"

"Get…off me," was the only thing I could say. "Fuck…"

The servant of Satan merely smiles and starts repeatedly making small cuts on my good arm. I'm confused, and when I look, my jaw drops open.

The Shiram is carving an incredibly detailed flower onto my arm.

I've never seen something so disgusting…and so horrifyingly beautiful.

"Like it, boy?" the Shiram mocks. "We are not all destructive, you see."

Gosh, I'm losing so much blood. All I can do is try not to black out, and resist the pain.

The servant of Satan makes another couple of cuts, and- FUCKING SHIT!

There's a beheaded, dying stick angel on my wrist, with X-ed out eyes. I'm wishing for the pain to go away. By god, there was so much blood. The warm, sticky stuff is all over the floor.

My bones are weak. My limbs are jelly. My eyelids are heavy as lead. Before I close my eyes and surrender to my pain, though, I remember seeing a white knife of flames curling around the Shiram.