Seraphs Edge Part 2

S**t. Angels. I killed Angels.

 

I threw the first one high, flicking the other one low. Years of training and experience made my motions smooth and quick. And still he was quicker.

Like a swan skimming across an icy river he managed to dodge the knives, both coming dangerously close to him, but neither one actually touching him. And I think he did that on purpose. He always loved to be at the edge of danger. By the time the two knives clattered harmlessly on the floor he had his hands on my neck.
          "Oh how you wound me." His grip tightened, but strangely I felt a wave of relief. The hand on my neck felt warmth and alive. So unlike the touch of the angels. "Granted, not literally, but still, you wound me."

My hand tried to reach for another of my knives, but his own hand was already there to stop it. Fingers entwined together as two lovers hands would, even as he chocked the life out of me. "I forgotten how you feel," he murmured, pushing his body closer to mine. "How you taste." If I could have I would have gasp when I felt his teeth on my shoulder.

I should have felt disgust, should have tried to fight him off me, but heaven help me a part of me wanted this. It didn't matter that I was bleeding. Or that the bodies of angels laid lifeless not ten feet from us. Or the fact that he was supposed to be dead.

All that mattered was that he was here. Now.

"I didn't," I said, my unheld hand moving up to trace his jaw line. I blinked a couple of times, my eyelids suddenly feeling heavy. The smell on him was starting to make me dizzy, the world spinning under my feet. Or maybe that could have been due to the loss of blood. "Forget. How could I?" I whispered, my hand moving to the back of his neck as I leaned forward. I hadn't forgotten, but I wanted to make sure.

He'd been my first in all the ways that mattered. I think I loved him, even if I never said it. I knew he loved me, he had said it plenty.

It wasn't the same as before. He tasted different, and his lips no longer twitched as they had when I ran my tongue across them. But there was just enough left of him to spark my memories, and in turn spark my longing.

My heart beat against my chest like a caged animal as I felt his hand roam my body. I gave in and closed my eyes, sinking into a blissful state when his fingers found the scars on my ribs and lightly ran circles around them. Like fencing swords our tongues met and parted constantly, an endless match that moved from the caverns of one mouth to the other.

While his touch on my body was soft, not everything else on him was. My hand could attest to that. This was crazy, stupid, and I didn't give a damn. Part of me thought that I was dying soon anyways, or maybe I was already dead. I didn't think that one last dip into desire would tip the scales one way or another. Not after all I had done.

By now Luke had all but forgotten about my hand, leaving it free to move under his shirt and touch his back. I traveled a well mark path to his left shoulder, seeking that small ridge of bone that I always returned to. He'd told me he gotten in a riding accident, nearly tore out his shoulder. And always he told me this with a grin, maybe because he realized how lucky he was to still be alive after that. Maybe because he probably used that same story to impress every girl he'd met.

I'd might have been the first not to be impressed. I had more than enough scars and bumps to match his. But still I always found myself reaching out for it whenever we were close. It became as much of a part of our lovemaking as anything else.

And now it was gone.
My palm pressed against his shoulder, fingers reaching out, thinking maybe

I'd forgotten its location. A false truth I tried to tell myself. I tensed and pull back as far as I could, staring at him. Beneath my hand I swore I felt his shoulders pulsate, as if he had a second set of hearts back there.

"Let go of me," I said.

He did. I half expected him to just laugh at me, but instead his hands lifted from my body and he took a single step back. I watched him carefully, noticing how the rain never really seemed to touch him. He was here and he wasn't.

"Don't like the new me Alice?"

I wanted to reach for my knives. I had what, three left? I could try again. Instead I answered his question, "I would like to know what you are."

He walked over to the bodies on the floor and crouched down. "I didn't think you could that," he said, turning one of the bodies over and looking at the knife sticking out of its throat.

"Neither did I."

He turned his head to look at me, probably taking in all the bleeding and open wounds. "Yea, I guess you didn't."

"They're angels aren't they?"

"Yes."

"Are you?"

"No."

“So what are you?”

Luke kept his eyes on the knife in his hand, slowly turning it over. “I’m me.”

"Stop it!" I scream, lurching from the wall and taking a step towards him. A step was all I could take without falling over. "Goddamn it, I'm tired of this! Just f*****g tell me what you are. Tell me why they were chasing me. Tell me why you're chasing me." It looked like I wouldn't need the rain anymore, the tears flowing freely down my cheeks now.

And Luke calmly took it all in and said nothing. Instead he reached over and pulled the dagger out of the dead angel’s throat and laid it carefully down on the floor, like you would lay a newborn on a crib.

Why couldn't you just stay dead?" I whispered, my body shaking. Was it of cold? Out of fear? I don't know.

 "Because it's too quiet." He moved on to the next body, glancing to the knives again. This one had two, one in the leg, which hadn't even slowed him down, and one in the back of his head. That one had done it. Luke reached and took both out.

"You're not alone." He continued, the sound of the falling rain echoing his soft voice, trumpets to his piano. “I think that's the most maddening part of it all. There's millions with you. All in the same boat as you are, and yet, none can make a sound. And you see everything. Everything." He turned away from me and focused on the last body. "I saw you. You moved on, took others to bed with you. Forgot. Lived." His voice grew louder, the piano keys banging loud notes that drowned everything else out. "You lived while I didn't. While I was stuck in that hole. I couldn't reach up to be taken, and I couldn't dig down to be burned. Not until I was made an offer."

He touched the feather marked on the wrist of one of the bodies and smiled, his fingers tracing the bold black lines of the marking.

"Someone wants you bad Alice. Or some ones. I'm here to make sure they don't get you."

Luke stood and turned to smiled at me. Behind him the body he touched started to glow. At first it was just a small ember glow, but soon the glow had spread out, reaching the two other bodies. I heard bones cracking and fabric tearing. The ruffle of wings filled the alley.

"I'm here to protect you. Ironic isn't it? Don't worry though, I'll do a better job than you did with me."






         

 

 

 

Reviews

[kbob]

I read the first of the two stories and thought it was a batttle against heaven but now I have absolutely no idea.

There area few grammar problems, and the part about a piano didn't make much sense

Liked the end quote. Great job