My Dark Angel - teaser

This part of the story is found about halfway through the plot sequence. This will likely become a much larger work with multiple volumes, so it's safe to assume that this is going to be the first of multiple climaxes. 

Trigger Warning: Violence, Language, Supernatural

I have to get out of here!

It was the only thought running through my head as I made a break for it. They were still shouting behind me. Someone screamed. Someone fell. Someone else cranked up an engine and drove off, tires squealing. If I could just make it to mine–

“You're mine!”

Fingers tangled into my hair and snatched me hard, pulling me back again. I screamed and reached back for the hand that was holding me. A knife passed through my vision. I shrieked and writhed, twisting against the grip and trying to break free. Remember what Garrett taught me. Remember what Garrett taught me!

“Garrett!!”

My phone was still in my pocket, but I didn’t know if the call was still going or not. I hoped that it went through, as far out as we were. I hoped he had answered and somehow used his cop skills to track me down. I just had to get away and stay alive. “Let go of me!!”

I managed to break free and threw myself backwards, out of range of his attacks again. It was the man in the red mask. The leader. The one who ordered them to kill me. He had that long knife in his hand, knuckles white as he clenched down on it. I scrambled to get away from him.

“Leaving so soon? I don’t think so.” His voice made my skin crawl. “I just need that camera!”

“Stay away!” I rolled onto my hands and pushed up, trying to run for it again. But the same as before, he grabbed me by my hair. Damn ponytail! I thrashed again and again, and every time I broke free, he caught me again seconds later. The blade raked my arm, leaving a long slice down the length of my bicep and drawing a cry from my lips. I can’t! I can’t get away from him!

I would have to fight.

I stomped on his foot as hard as I could with my boot heel. He howled, then slapped me. “Bitch!”

I landed roughly in the cold, rocky dirt of the makeshift drive. I panted and rolled onto my back, off my knees. They hurt, but I didn’t care. I kicked out at him with my feet, driving forward as hard as I could with my heel. At the same time, I scooted back. This might work. If I could make it to my car, I might have a chance. I deliberately kicked at his knees. I knew from those years playing soccer that if I hit the knee hard enough, I could drop him. Then I would get away, for sure.

He kept coming. He hissed as he breathed, the mask making him sound like some sort of demon or monster. It rattled your very soul. Were his eyes red, too? Or was it just the mask? A beam of moonlight fell on his face, and for a moment it looked like his eyes were glowing. Every fiber in my body tensed with terror. He was really going to kill me.

“F*cking reporters, always putting your nose where it don’t belong! And your precious camera!”

Something about his words set me off. I opened my mouth. “Are you the one who’s been killing those people?”

The look in his eye was answer enough. I read it plain: And you’re next.

I gasped. I figured it out. Whoever was behind this mask was our guy, the guy we had been investigating and looking for. The maniac who wrote archaic runes in blood.

And now he knew that I knew, because of my stupid mouth.

I clamped my teeth and surged backward, trying to get distance between us, but he moved quicker. There was a gust of wind and suddenly he was on top of me, grabbing me by my throat and trying to pin me down. He squeezed, his entire hand fitting around my neck, fingertips almost touching. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t scream. A shadow swept over us, blocking out the moon and stars, plunging me into darkness. I wanted to lash out, but my hands instinctively clawed at his wrist, trying to get him to release…

My vision swirled. The harder I fought, the less I could see. I saw the glint of the knife, blood already on it. Whose blood? Maybe it was mine. Maybe he already stabbed me and I just didn’t feel it yet. He raised the knife. This is it. I'm dead. I'm done. I closed my eyes as feathers floated…

Feathers?

Something crashed. Hard. It sounded like a football collision, where bones and solid muscle of linebackers collide with the force of a truck. He was suddenly off of me, his nails clawing my neck as he was ripped free. I inhaled as deep as I could and started coughing. My vision was still a blur, but I could hear.

God, I could hear. I wish I hadn’t been able to.

Grunts, yells, a man roared. Shuffling. Stomping. Leaves scattering on the ground. Something crashed against metal. I was still trying to catch my breath. My throat burned and throbbed at the same time; it felt like he had tried to collapse my windpipe. I rolled over and crawled away. I massaged my throat to see if I could will the pain away. I didn't dare look back, in case whoever it was didn't turn out to be a friend.

The shuffling stopped. I made it to my car and hid behind the quarter panel, peeking around it. They were gone. There were three of the hooded thugs standing in the door of the abandoned cabin. But where did they go?

The man yelled again. Before I could register that it came from the sky, something came down. A mass of feathers crashed on the hood of my car. Four wings, a writhing, contorted body. Black and gold everywhere. I screamed and slid backward, away from my car. Was it an eagle? No. It couldn’t be. Eagles didn’t have four wings, and each one of these was as wide as my entire car. I remembered the dog with the acid in its mouth. This was definitely something from Hell.

As they wrestled against each other, I started to make out what it could be. I saw arms. Clearly defined, muscular arms. A head. A mask. A red mask. Black wings.

“Holy shit!”

The man in the mask had wings.

And someone was underneath him, kicking out and throwing punches, trying to break free. The winged man thrashed him, picking him up by the front of his shirt and slamming him into my car again. His head bounced, leaving a perfect crater with the back of his skull. That’s when I saw the knife come free, away from the maniac with wings. Whoever had come to my rescue had taken it from him, his hand around the hilt and the knife tucked against his side.

“Oh?” the man in the mask taunted. “Is she precious, then?”

The man who saved me lashed out with his fist and boot, knocking him off. Without the dark angel holding him there, he slid off my car. He landed partially on his knees, and that’s when I saw it. The knife wasn’t tucked away. It was buried in him, in his side. He pulled it out and threw it off into the dark woods, out of sight.

But that wasn’t the only thing I saw. He also had wings, and these feathers were speckled with gold.

My memory flashed back to the photos. The man that glowed. The man with golden hands.

Him!

I knew it! I knew I wasn’t seeing things!

The dark angel lunged at him again. They tangled and fought on the hood of my car. The golden angel seemed to be losing. The dark one grabbed him by the throat and slammed him sideways into the hood. I thought I heard him whimper. Then he threw a punch, and his hands began to glow. Yellow light flooded the clearing around my car, illuminating their wings in the night.

“Whoa! What the f*ck!”

Two of the cultists were still here. I gasped when I saw them and ducked behind my car. I had to get away. If I could slip in through the passenger door and lock myself in, I would be safe. But I had to get them off my car! I could always press the gas and throw it in reverse. If I ran the maniac over, I could claim self defense, maybe.

What was I even thinking? There was no way I’d be able to hit him, even if I tried. He could fly!

Maybe he was what I had seen and tried to take a picture of, which led me here in the first place.

Was it a trap all along? A lure?

The light suddenly exploded, and it was the dark angel’s turn to howl. Sparks flew from his chest, where the other angel struck him with the ball of light. I stared for a moment, almost unable to believe my eyes. This was weirder than those fiction novels I read in high school. The cultists yelled. One of them fired a shot. The dark angel growled and threw himself away from the one next to my car. He pumped his wings, sending up leaves and dust. I ducked down, out of sight. There were two more strong bursts of wind, and then flapping, fading into the night. Steps shuffling, then running. Someone was coming closer. Someone was punched, and they crashed hard with a grunt. A voice growled. “Get out of here!”

I shuddered and reached for my pocket. I tapped lightly, finding my phone was still in place. I carefully pulled it out and checked it, but there was nothing. The call was over. It had ended several minutes ago according to the time stamp.

Did Garrett see my call? He had to, if it had a duration of almost nine minutes.

Nine minutes of hell!

I started tapping on it, trying to send him a text. ‘Please come find me.’ I tried to share my exact location with him from Google, but my thoughts were interrupted.

There was a footstep, just the slightest shuffle of a foot in the dirt. There was still someone here.

My entire body shook as I peeked around from the side of my car. A man with wings was still standing there, right beside my car. His back was to me. A string of black stone beads was hanging from his hand. They seemed to glow. His fingers looked dark, almost bloody. In the darkness, it was hard to tell if his wings had gold or not. Shit! On the other side of him, the last cultist jumped in their car and drove away, speeding off into the night.

...

(next chapter)

...

Blood.

Feathers.

Wings.

A man. With wings.

There's two of them, and one of them just tried to kill me.

The angel-man-thing in front of me swayed and buckled to the side. He caught himself on the dented hood of my car, barely keeping himself upright. He sank to one knee, his back still completely turned. His head hung, and I could hear the sharp breaths coming from him as his shoulders heaved, up and down, up and down. Then his wings drooped, massive, broad wings, almost as broad as a parasail.

I was still crouched next to my car. My hands were stinging. My wrists and throat hurt. I started to crawl backwards. Would he attack me too?

He didn’t try to stand. He sagged. I saw him move his arm across his torso, his fingers folding around his side.

Wait.

That’s where the knife was. Was this the one that decided to save me? I hesitated and looked at him for a moment. He made no move to get up. I carefully stood and brushed myself off. He coughed and groaned. I bit my lip and took a step toward him. My entire body ached, but I couldn’t make myself stop. “S-Sir?”

“Are you okay?”

I gasped. I knew that tone. But how?

Why?

“G-Garrett?!”