"Accidental Angel: Part 6" by Mandy Burnham

Erela couldn’t even tear her eyes away to see who’d spoken. All sounds faded from the alley except the stranger’s heavy breathing, her own panicked gasps, and Damien’s furious panting. The red-head knelt against Damien’s back, using his shaking wings against him to keep his arms pinned. The knife pressed against Damien’s neck while the stranger’s other hand held fast to Damien’s hair to crane his head back. Still, the stranger’s now-bloody face held firm at its void frown and cold, empty eyes—which then appeared as red as his hair. Damien’s eyes raged with a storm of ire and hatred that Erela had never observed in any living creature. For a moment it almost frightened her. Still, she knew that she caused that anger. If only she hadn’t been so stupid…

“Don’t hurt him,” she sobbed as her desperation began to drag her aching body towards the monster that held Damien down. “Please don’t hurt him… he hasn’t done anything wrong… please… oh please…”

“A disobedient blood-bound,” the same voice as before started. “How peculiar.”

Erela froze, remembering the calm command that had halted all motion in the small alley. She swung her head to the left in investigation.

An older man stood with a slight smile twisting thin lips that opened enough to display teeth whiter than milk. He leaned against an ivory-colored cane with a golden handle. Clad in a black suit with sharp lines and deep creases, he looked every measure the powerful business man.

She swallowed hard. “Make him stop,” she pleaded. “Please just make him stop.”

“It appears I already have, doesn’t it?” The man’s smile widened as he reached up to adjust his narrow-framed, gold-rimmed glassed. He took a few steps forward, and turned his head to stare at the still unmoving belligerents. “My, my, Arnon. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you this tattered. Are you losing your touch?”

“No, master,” Arnon answered, without shifting his eyes from where they locked on Damien.

“What of you, my little, black bat?” the man asked, shifting his attention to Damien. “What will you do if I command him to release you?”

Damien’s scowl deepened, and his grey eyes burned before he ejected blood and spit at the man’s feet.

The man’s face twisted into an amused smirk as he turned to face Erela again. “It seems you do not want this creature hurt.”

“I don’t!” she shouted as her gut twisted at the very thought.

“By now you must realize that my word determines whether or not he lives.” The man’s smile widened. “That means it’s up to you.”

She didn’t dare accept the hope that crept up in her heart. “What?”

“It’s simple. Promise you’ll come with me, keep him calm, and I’ll command his release.” The man’s laughter shattered the stillness that filled the alley after he stopped speaking. “Oh come now! Don’t look so severe. I only want to talk with you.”

Erela swallowed as she considered the options. Really there only was a single option.

“Damien,” she whispered.

She watched his jaw muscles spasm beneath his tight skin as he worked his teeth back and forth in his fury.

“Damien,” she called again, this time gaining his eyes. Her heart twisted when she felt the heat of his anger and frustration. Her lips twisted into a sad smile. “Let’s do as he says.”

Damien shifted his eyes back to the man in the suit. Erela jumped when her phone began to buzz. She swallowed hard as she moved to reach for it.

The man’s hand clamped down on her shoulder, and he smiled while he shook his head. “I don’t recall telling you phone calls were acceptable.”

She lifted her lips in a sneer and pulled away, though she couldn’t shake his grip. “It’s just a text,” she snapped. “Damien’s trying to answer me.”

The man lifted an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

He shrugged a little and laughed before releasing her. Erela pulled out the phone and mashed the ‘read’ button.

Looking at those words on the screen, she wanted to die. She lifted her eyes to meet his once again. Those grey orbs bore into her soul, speaking in words that could never be said. In that moment of silent communication, she knew he meant it. He could give her enough time to run. He would die. And that was exactly how he wanted things.

“What then?” she cried as her tears turned to sobs. “What will I do next time? What happens when you’re gone? Damien, please, I don’t want you to die.”

It felt like eternity before her phone shivered again. Erela was almost too frightened to look down at it.

‘As you say.’

“We promise,” Erela whispered as her tears returned afresh. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was relief. Maybe it was regret that her selfishness wouldn’t let her grant what he wanted. “We promise.”

“Just to make sure we’re clear, I’m sure that my other blood-bound is already keeping your brother company. What was his name again? Calvin? Callaway?”

“Kaleb!” she gasped.

“Yes, of course. Kaleb.”

“I understand,” she forced out. “We’ll keep the promise.”

“Arnon, release.”

The red-head removed the knife and stood without a word. He back away, keeping his still-red eyes locked on Damien’s motionless form. Every muscle in his body remained tensed and ready to spring.

Erela swallowed hard as she scooted the last few feet so she could face Damien. Despite her position, right before him, Damien’s stormy eyes remained locked on the man in the suit. She sniffled as she shoved her tangle of brown-gold threads back over her shoulder.

“Damien,” she whispered as she reached out to touch his face.

He closed his angry eyes before looking at her once again. This time, only concern for her and dejected defeat showed in the glittering, grey pools. She pushed the black tresses out of his eyes and pulled the sleeve of her shirt over her hand to wipe away the blood running down his face.

He shook his head and moved to pull away, shattering her heart in the process.

She threw her arms around his neck when he moved to stand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered in his ear. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shall we then?” the man’s voice cut through her broken apology.

Damien patted her back and stood, drawing her along with him. Even Erela wanted to shrink away from the glare he leveled at the man when he released her.

“Well, young lady,” the man started as if they were sitting down to afternoon tea. “My name is Arthur Maddok. Please follow me.”

Erela swallowed hard and bit her lip while she wrapped both her arms around Damien’s closest arm, uncaring of the blood she smeared across her shirt in the process. The two followed the man who turned from them and began to walk without a backwards glance.

She shivered while she listened to the quiet footfall of the terrifying individual behind them. A blood-bound. A real blood-bound. He could have killed Damien. He would have killed Damien without interference.

“You should put your wings away,” Erela whispered.

“Mr. Maddok…” she started as she glanced around the extravagant parlor with great bay windows that looked out over an expansive lawn, complete with extensive gardens, statues, and fountains.

“Call me Arthur,” he interrupted as he motioned her towards the deep blue settee that faced two elegant, wing-backed chairs of the same rich color.

She shuffled over the plush, maroon carpet, trying her hardest to appear unimpressed by the fancy drapes, the gold and crystal light fixtures, and the paintings that decorated the room. It was a room like any other—no better than those rooms that made up her shabby apartment back in Cashten. Still, she’d bet dollars to doughnuts that in the winter time Arthur Maddok didn’t find himself cuddling tepid radiators.

Erela bit her lip as her stomach flip-flopped. She glanced to her right, where Damien stood, rigid, beside where she sat. His arms crossed high over his chest, and she could see the pressure his fingers placed on his upper arms where he gripped them.

“Tea?”

She lifted her eyes to watch Arthur offer up a delicate tea cup, which he’d filled with steaming liquid from a tall silver pot. She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

“Do let me know if you change your mind,” he instructed as he approached to seat himself in the leftmost chair of the pair across from her. Arnon took up a position beside Arthur similar to that which Damien had taken beside her.

She couldn’t help but flick her eyes up to the towering individual whose expressionless face filled the room with tension. Arnon stood, still as a statue, with his eyes—returned to dark brown—staring straight ahead as if he could see through the very walls. His muscles stretched taut beneath cream-colored skin, and after Arthur commanded him remove his bloodied over-jacket, Erela could see on the right side of his neck part of a block-font number that disappeared beneath his high collar. Also revealed was a serpentine tattoo that twined from his left wrist up his arm to disappear somewhere beneath his thin tank top. The crimson snake with glowing eyes and a vicious, hissing mouth made Erela’s skin crawl.

She turned her attention away from the individual whose mere presence sent disconcerted tingles down her spine. Still her mind wrestled with his existence. Despite the power she saw and felt from him, his presence was as empty as his eyes—no spirit, no spark. He might as well have been a robot for the life she felt from him. Was that what Damien was supposed to be like?

“Mr. Maddok, I…”

“Arthur,” he corrected.

Erela sighed and felt her shoulders droop despite the tension that made them ache.  “Arthur… my brother is quite sensitive. Is he alright?”

The man laughed as he raked his fingers through his dark hair, dusted with sprays of grey. “I doubt your brother even realizes he’s being detained. Zoe is very good at what she does.

“Allow me to apologize for the way this afternoon has turned out,” he shifted subjects. “It was not my intension that the two should have fought. I never dreamed your blood-bound would be able to find you that quickly. It’s amazing really…”

“What do you want from me?” Erela blurted, biting back her urge to fight the man on his designation of Damien as her blood-bound.

“I just want to chat,” he laughed. “It’s not everyday I run across a woman as young and innocent as you who also happens to be a blood-lord.”

“I am not a blood-lord.” She spat the word like it was hot. It was one thing to suggest that Damien was her blood-bound—Bradley had done as much—but it was something else entirely to indicate she was a blood-lord. If he chose to allow her to guide him, fine, but she did not, and would never, rule over him. No one would say otherwise.

“Really?” Arthur’s grin widened a little as his gaze shifted to Damien’s tall form. “You there, bat-boy, who is your lord, then?”

“He’s not a bat!” Erela snarled before she could help herself. She ducked her head down as her hand drew to her mouth. How had she allowed herself to forget that this man practically held sway over her life, her brother’s life, as well as Damien’s? “I mean… uh…”

“You certainly are interesting, young lady. Come now, tell me your name.”

“Erela,” she murmured and continued after a pause. “Finch. But you knew that, right?”

“Of course,” he laughed. “However, it’s always nicer to meet someone properly. Don’t you agree? You call him Damien, yes?”

She nodded.

“Damien,” Arthur hailed. “Who is your lord?”

Damien’s face contorted into a sneer, and he tightened his grip on his arms while a low, moaning growl rose from his throat.

“Damien doesn’t speak much,” Erela offered, fighting the flinch that attempted to flash over her face.

Almost as soon as she’d finished her explanation, a sharp beeping filled the room.

“Do excuse me,” Arthur laughed as he reached into his blazer’s inner pocket. “I’m sorry about this; I could have sworn I turned the sound off.”

The man produced the newest personal organizer and flipped it open. Arthur’s eyebrows lifted, and he began to laugh. “I suppose this little love-note is from you, then?” He held up the small item and motioned towards Damien.

Damien only deepened his scowl and tucked his chin lower.

“My, my,” Arthur sighed as he took a sip of his tea. His pale eyes turned to Erela, and he grinned. “Your blood-bound certainly has a colorful vocabulary. I don’t suppose you taught him all those words.”

Erela glanced up at Damien in surprise.

“I suppose he’s right, however. I should stop dancing around this topic,” Arthur laughed as he leaned forward to set the tea cup and saucer on the short coffee table between them. Erela estimated that piece of furniture cost more than she’d paid for three years of tuition.

“Miss Finch, I guess you could say I have a general interest in the blood-bound and a particular interest in yours. As you may have realized, he’s different than most, and I wish to know how that happened. I would like the chance to investigate some things.”

“What if we say no?” Erela asked. Nothing so far felt like requests with this man, so why should he start now?

Arthur laughed. “Then you leave my home, and I don’t bother you again. However, I am probably the only person who can really get Alliance off your back as well as answer your questions about how Damien came to you and where it was he came from in the first place.”

Erela swallowed hard, feeling Damien twitch beside her. “You—you could really help us with Alliance?”

Arthur grinned as if he knew he’d already won. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he nodded his head once. “How familiar with the Alliance are you, my dear?”

Erela shrugged. “A little.”

“Do you know of the Puppet Master?”

“I’ve heard of him—he’s the leader.”

“Correct, and now,” Arthur grinned as he nodded once in her direction, “you’ve met him.”