Angel Tongue

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Sierra Montmartre was not having the best of days.

Here she was, standing in a wondrous ballroom, with food and drink aplenty. Except the room was empty and an utter mess, and the food and drinks were all strewn about on the floor as if a carriage (or a whole battalion of them) had run them over.

She gazed out into thin air, her mind stuck thinking about her damned footwork. And that cursed move she hadn't been able to perfect. And how she should have seen that stupid demon's tail coming out to unbalance her. All of these were proof. Proof that she needed to do an extra hour in the training room from now on.

And now this.

"What happened?" she asked as Pax hurried down to the boy who was now laying in a small puddle of blood. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was shallow.

Looking at her, Pax produced a clean scrap of cloth. "He's been stung by the demon, I think," he told her, his voice low. Sierra let out a quiet gasp. "Help me lift him up, Sierra." And so, Sierra and Pax knelt down on either side of the unconscious boy, her on his left and him on the bloodied side. Together, they lifted him up just a few inches above the ground so that Pax could tie the fabric around his torso to stop the bleeding. The boy let out a low grunt when Pax tightened the wrapping to provide more pressure.

"He's deathly pale," Sienna broke the silence that had settled once the wound had been bandaged. She raked her eyes over the boy's skin, which had gotten so white that a blue sheen had seemed to take over it. Now, he looked like a sketch on a piece of paper, all white and black; even his blood looked dark enough to pass for a pencil shade. Memories tugged at her mind, dark memories that she had to suppress, she had to push away for now.

Suddenly, the boy was wracked by a fit of coughing. Loud hollow wheezes echoed throughout the hall. He shook, as if there was an unseen entity grabbing him by the shoulders, trying to wring out his life. Dark red fluid, the same kind that was on the floor around him, began to coat his lips, spewing out onto his shin, covering his cheeks. Sierra jolted in alarm. He was coughing up blood.

"Pax, where's the antidote?" She spoke quickly and spared a glance to her brother who looked up at her, scratching his golden hair.

"Me? I thought you took it with you. I told you to take it with you." Sierra just now noticed the numerous scratches and gashes that Pax had gotten from the demon. There was a nasty cut, just along his jaw. On his arms were a couple of bruises, already starting to turn a dark shade of purple.

"What do you mean?" Sierra asked, for she did not remember being told to take the antidote bag with her. Pax had always been the more responsible one after all, so she just assumed he had it taken care of.

"Oh no," was all Pax could say.

The boy began to cough again, once more spewing out his own blood. Pax began to move closer to him, putting his arms under the boy's body. Sierra though, could not move. At the sight of the boy, the memories were clawing at her brain again, like monsters clambering over the cliff of her defenses, and shaking them off was beginning to become a futile task.

"Sierra," Pax called out to her, temporarily suspending her inner demons. The alarm was clear in his voice. "We need to take him to the Sanctuary, Sierra." His eyes softened when they met her unfocused gaze. "Are you alright?" he prodded gently.

Sierra shook her head at herself, instead moving to assist Pax in lifting up the body. "We need to do this quickly," came her only response.

Together, they carried him with ease, their arms becoming stained with the blood on the floor. The blood too, had started to soak through the bindings Pax had wrapped around him. Not a good sign, she thought. Once again the dark arms that had clawed at her mind came. She could not stop them this time.