DIFFERENT-WINGED ANGEL

FEATHER #7

Upon regaining consciousness, Olivia found herself in the cold darkness, taking in a deep breath of the musty, dusty air that permeated the space. Struggling to pry open her eyelids, the initial sight that greeted her was a concrete floor—a disgustingly dirty floor. From an indeterminate location, a repetitive mechanical knocking noise could be heard. In the hanging semi-darkness of the little room, the inexplicable rumbling noises appeared to grow louder with each passing moment, echoing from all corners.

Her forehead bore the remnants of blood that had dried a long ago, resulting in her skin feeling uncomfortably tight. After managing to shift her body onto her back, she remained in that position for a while, staring blankly at the solid concrete ceiling above her.

The rag in her mouth is far from clean, and she is tightly bound by ropes on her hands and feet. Opting to attempt getting up from the icy floor, she finds her efforts thwarted by those ropes. Closing her eyes in a tight squeeze, Olivia let out a scream that, muffled by the rag, came across as a pitiful moan.

Her heart skipped a few beats as the bulky door slowly began to open, emitting a creaking sound. A couple of moments later, a gloomy face came into view through the doorway. Olivia quickly glanced at the stranger's neck and didn't see the sun tattoo, which means that he doesn't belong to the renegade group. This realization instilled a sense of fear within her, yet paradoxically, it also brought about a feeling of calmness, bolstering her confidence to some extent.

"How do you feel?"

The man lowered himself to a squatting position, directly facing Olivia. The muscles on her jaw immediately twitched, and her eyes sparkled with a mix of anger and fear directed at the individual before her.

"That little thing must be bothering you," the man chuckled, taking the rag out of Olivia's mouth.

The girl, sensing the disgusting sensation on her taste buds, unconsciously ran her tongue over her chapped lips. "Go to hell."

"To hell?" he asked with a twitchy grin. "Luckily, it's not my turn today."

"What do you want from me?" the girl squeezed out hoarsely.

"I don't want anything from you." He chuckled nervously again. "I simply do what he desires... And it just so happens that he desires you."

"He? Some kind of madman who deludes himself into thinking he's the master of human destinies?"

The stranger shuddered and stared clearly into her gray-blue eyes. "Don't even think about saying that in front of him," he said quietly. "Will be worse."

"Are you threatening me?" the girl hissed through clenched teeth.

"Not me." He drew himself up to his full height with an apologetic smile. "But he is." The stranger walked leisurely back to the door. "I genuinely feel sorry for you," he said before swiftly departing, leaving Olivia in solitude.

<><>

Mila was circling the room, feverishly wringing her fingers and filling the room with a light crunch of bones. Meanwhile, Tim was seated on the edge of the bed, absentmindedly running his fingers through his dark hair and forcefully squeezing his temples.

"We need to call Alexa and Nick," Mila said, suddenly stopping.

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?" The girl was indignant. "She's missing! Someone assaulted her and abducted her! What if it's Lucifer? After all, Alexa said he has that super-duper book!"

Tim sighed with fatigue as he lifted himself up from the bed. "I don't think it's him. I'm pretty sure it's not him," he answered measuredly. "I think it's the renegades. Most likely, George managed to tell them about Olivia. But the real mystery lies in why they need her. That's the burning question."