The Lovers of Life

CHAPTER III - DALILA'S BROTHER (pt 2)

I ran, gathering speed as I ran down the hill where Dalila's white marble tower stood proudly. The village here was too small for me to find the kind of scum I liked to feast on. The most crowded place here was the inn. No, I needed somewhere bigger. I ran on, but I disliked running great distances on uneven surfaces. I looked up at the golden stars and I rose, the stars – these tiny shinning people in the sky – soared towards me as I ran in the skies. To any common eye, I was a shooting star. To anyone who had seen me fly away, I may have been a bat, for I had travelled so fast that one could have mistaken my cloak for wings.

I slowed my pace as the flickering lights of a town drew nearer. I set foot on the railings on the top of a building and tumbled down clumsily on the ground – thankfully, there were no witnesses. I rose, unscathed and flawless, wiping the dust off my clothes with an almost snobbish gesture. I looked around me, taking in my surroundings. I did not know this city. Or at least, it had been very long since last I had come here. I walked to the edge of the roof and leaned on the iron railing I had tried to land on majestically – yes, tried. I looked down into the dingy street below where few were passing. It was very pleasant, leaning on the cool railing, staring down. But I couldn't linger forever, however pleasant this rooftop garden was. I climbed on the railing and allowed myself to drop down into the street.

I had to leave these quarters; my food rarely dwelled in sumptuous lodgings with gardens on the roof. I ambled down the street – damp and muddy from the excrements and garbage people threw out of their windows and front doors. I reached what looked like the market square, with the old church. I smiled at the saints, carved into its walls and kept walking. Tonight was no night to seek pardon.

I hurried down to the smelliest of the neighbourhoods, where my victims sold themselves to the devils on Earth. I did not allow the nasty perfumes to overwhelm me: I had to do this quickly tonight; I had to get back to Dalila and Mikayil.

I liked my siblings, but we weren't the same. Right? They were beautiful saints of the skies – and what was I? Wail's employee? Never. My father's son? Most probably – but his enemy? I am no angel, nor am I good or bad—well, not very bad I hope. But I love being myself, might as well say I love myself. I find it marvellous. All the mysteries that lie within me are unveiled even by myself and amaze none more than myself when revealed.

I heard knocking and a door creaking open.

"And may I inquire as to the honour of the visit of such a gentleman?" asked a female voice sarcastically.

There were giggles within the room. I looked up. The red lantern hanging above the door was extinguished. I was the one who had knocked to the door, and I was the gentleman being addressed. Once again, I had been led to my sacrifice. The female in the doorway was impatient and sickly looking. Her dress was at least several years out of fashion and positively filthy. Her learther high-heeled shoes were worn-out and her hair, flying out of hand. Her skin was bruised and she didn't look pleased to see me standing here.

"Who is it yer after?" she asked with a serious lack of interest and a very pronounced accent as she chewed something that sounded like a fingernail she had gnawed off from her hand.

I looked at her hands. One was set against the doorway, blocking the entrance and the other was limp at her side, almost hidden in the moldy folds of her skirt. The latter's thumb was bleeding, practically nailless. I smiled and looked back at her. I was surprised at how stern her composure was. It couldn't be her.

"May I enter?" I asked.

Whispers from within the chamber.

"Oh yah Lattie, let him in!"