Fallen Sparrow

It was dark in the city. It was almost midnight. I walked along the river and into an alleyway. It was narrow and the only way to see was the yellow, flickering street lamps that lit the way. There was a faint odour of urine and blood, but nobody other than me wandering around. A single door appeared at the end. The wood was worn, definitely in need of a good paint job. With no signs or anything to grab attention, it was invisible unless you were looking for it. I turned the handle and pushed the door open to reveal a bar full of black witches.

They walk with striking steps. Everything they do is fierce. The females will stare you down like you’re invading their territory. And they are not afraid of a cat fight. Sporting dark hair that falls over their shoulder and stunning eyes decorated with auburn fleck, the woman in this room are dangerously beautiful. I was only here for one.

As soon as I stepped in, the room fell silent and everyone turned to stare. I was an imposter in the lion’s den and they were going to watch my every move. The room had a deep red colour and dimmed lights that warmed the room along with the swirling smoke of cigarettes. I continued over the wooden bar, that stretched along the whole room and disappeared around the corner, and got the bartenders attention. When he turned, I blinked and looked again. He was bare of flesh. A skeleton walked towards me in burgundy trousers and a waistcoat over a crisp white shirt. “What can I get you?” I saw his jaw bone move and the joint pivot in the socket. Surprisingly, I’d never spoken to a Skeleton before.

“Meredith Blackburn.” Even without eyeballs, I could feel the intense look he was giving me. “She’s a friend,” I added and he gestured behind me with his bone finger to a closed pair of curtains. I knocked twice on the door frame. “I’m busy,” she called out. It came out as a husky moan. I didn’t have time to wait.

“I’m coming in, Meredith and I don’t care how naked you are.” I pushed the curtains aside and entered. She was on all fours with her lips around a brunette man’s shaft. He had his fingers in her hair. My interruption had definitely caught him and the blonde man at the rear end’s attention.

“Meredith, can we talk?”

She released the brunette and looked at me angrily. “Can it wait? I’m in the middle of something.” The blonde tried to hide his snigger, while the brunette smirked childishly.

“It’ll only take a few minutes of your time and you can return to what you’re doing.” I could still see the reluctance in her eyes. I sighed, “I’m about to kill a blood knight and I need your help.”

“I’m coming.” She said immediately and got up from the bed, giving me a full view of her nude body. She wrapped a long, black robe around herself and followed me out of the room, back to the bar.

“Gin and tonic, Jeremiah.” The bartender nodded and quickly made up her request. She sipped the fluid, before turning to me, “so which one and why?” Meredith was the matriarch of the black witch and her hatred for the Blood Knights was well known. She’d help me escape Chaos, with a hefty price, years ago and I knew the extent of her powers.

“Chaos.” She choked on her drink and fell into outrageous laughter, gaining a few confused eyes from several witches nursing their drinks nearby.

“You are…” she thought for a moment, “brave. Why not go for a weaker one like Death or Lust? As much as I hate him, he still astronomically hard to kill.” I didn’t reply. Meredith saw my hard expression and continued, “I’ll give you the answers you seek, but I’m not responsible if you get killed, which is most likely.” She took her crystal glass and began to walk along to bar, around the corner. A large, dark wooden door came into view. When she pulled it open, I could see how thick the door was.

“Before you think about trying to get back in here, the door only opens for me,” she stated without turning. There were eight shelves of books built from the floor to the beautifully engraved ceiling.

“Give me a moment.” Her bare feet padded against the wood. I watched as she climbed the ladder on rails up to the fourth shelf up. Her fingers ran across the spines of the books. They were every shade of blue, green with the odd red one mixed in. Some were in pristine condition, while others were frayed and faded. I made my way over to the huge stain glass window to peer out. Meredith had a beautiful. She didn’t prune it herself, but she often strolled through amongst the colours. Through the glass, her bright blonde hair caught my attention. I immediately smiled when I saw Beth laughing. She was out in the dim evening light hand-in-hand with Knox Blackburn, Meredith’s son. They were almost complete opposites but they balanced each other’s distinctive personalities out.

“Here we are.” She laid a book along her tall book stand. The stand was held up by two snakes weaved together. I approached from where I stood. The front of spell book was titled with a curvaceous font. She opened it to a random page. “Well, it looks like you need an Angel’s feather dipped in Satan’s blood. Good luck.” She laid out nonchalantly, then laughed sympathetically, yet mockingly, before disappearing back through the entrance of the library.

A couple of hours later, I was stood on top of one of the buildings in the Castles. It was so tall that it needed lights to indicate its presence to helicopters. My toes hung just enough over the edge to feel an adrenaline rush pump through my body. It felt like the wind was blowing up from the ground into my face as I stood there staring down at the city. When I stood still in the silence, I felt the agonising pain in my chest magnify. I felt my throat tighten and my eyes well up. In this lonely silence, I could release a little of feelings building up inside.

My fingers were stained with white chalk. Behind me, I’d drawn out a sigil trap out on the rooftop. Inside the white the white circle, I drew a star with a continuous line. Between each point was a strange, foreign symbol. The drawing will keep the Angel within the exterior circle until they are released by me. In the centre, I’d laid a cadaver to use as bait. The door to the stairwell opened and I looked up to see her blonde hair tied up in a high ponytail.

“Been a while, hasn’t it?” she asked rhetorically with a huge beaming smile.

“And who’s fault is that, Bethany?” Trying not to sound upset or angry, my voice came out monotone.

“Hey!” Beth pointed her finger at me defensively, “you know I’ve been busy, okay. I text you.” I simply smiled like I did when her name popped up on my phone. It was usually a simple ‘Good morning’ or a ‘How are you?’.

“Well when you are finished running around with your friends and dancing around your boyfriend’s backyard, come and visit me,” I saw her expression drop slightly when she realised I’d seen her. I didn’t want to make her feel bad, but she’s probably the closest thing I’ll ever have to my own child and I missed her. It was selfish.

“How are you at mimicking?” Looking down the cadaver, she thought about it for a moment.

“Yeah, I can do it. Why?”

I needed a witch I could trust fully. She was the only one. “After you cast the spell, I want you to leave, okay?”

“Cora, the spell won’t continue if I’m not here,” she explained. I sighed. Of course.

“Okay,” I huffed. She was tough and had taken on creatures like this before. “As soon as you see a big metal idiot with wings come down from the sky, leave.” I could see the spark of curiosity in her eyes, begging for more information. She had enough going on with her mother hunting her. The last thing she needed to deal with was Chaos.

“Promise me,” I used my best parenting voice and tried to be stern. Beth had enough teenage rebellion to go around me one this. Looking at her very seriously, she nodded. “Thank you.”

Angels are not a big fan of me and the feeling is mutual. They are the devoted soldiers of Creation and worships the ground she walks on; however, they are also arrogantly proud. To them, Creation was higher than all others and being her closest followers, they need to be too.

Beth stood by the body’s feet, just outside the sigil trap. With her arms outstretched, her glacier blue irises and pupils melted away. Hearing the chants of a language, I couldn’t understand; the dead man’s skin began to ripple as if insects were scattering under the surface. He shot up. His jaw dropped open to release a husky breath. He wasn’t alive, only Death had that power. It just had to seem like it.

The point of the spell was to mimic a soul struggling to leave its body, enough to convince an Angel it needs help. It’s the only reason an Angel would come down other than demonic policing. And I wasn’t going to release a demon on the general population. Only the high ranked witches like Beth can do it, but even she can only do it with a fresh death.

The chalk pattern I’d drawn on the concrete roof began to glow dimly, meaning the Angel was close.

The clouds began to thicken darkly. A crash of thunder roared as an entrance grew in the grey sky allowing a beam of bright, white light to strike through. Amidst my blindness, I could make out the silhouette of what seemed to be a bird of prey. “Go!” I yelled to Beth. She was too mesmerized to move. I grabbed her arm and dragged her to the stairs, “go!” I repeated.

“You owe me,” she grumbled, before running down the steps. By the time, she was out of sight, the Angel had noticed my deceit and was angry. “Reveal yourself now!” he bellowed, “I’m not stupid. I see your trick.” His voice was deep and commanding, which matched his gleaming, metal armour and huge build. The plating on his arms and legs were engraved with swirled patterns and his chest plate had a dragon’s head, that stared intensely at me. His wings were stretched out threateningly. Each individual feather was steel grey and sharpened to a point like an arrangement of tiny blades. The artificial lights reflected off the hardened material of each one. “Depends on whether you are going to give me what I’m after.”

“I don’t think you know the seriousness of your actions, woman.” His face was completely clear of emotions as he approached the sound of my voice. I stepped into the light and I saw a moment of weakness, unease and fear pass through his eyes before it vanished. It morphed into a hardened expression. Unfortunately, my relationship with Chaos has given me a particular reputation that I wasn’t proud to wear.

Every Angel I’ve seen has their own features, but they all still looked the same. He had chocolate dusted, blonde hair and pale blue eyes. White witches commonly share these characteristics. They claim to be the descendants of Angels as well as Creation and worship them orthodoxly.

“I need one of your feathers.” I stated. He stared at me for a moment, checking if I was joking.

“I don’t think so.”

I nodded, “fine.” I thrust my foot into his chest. He stumbled, but only took one step back before he lunged at me, punching my jaw. I twisted in the air and fell onto my hip with both of my flat on the ground. Pain shot up my side.

“What are you up to Sparrow? What has Chaos got you doing now?”

Why does everyone think I’m his damn lap dog?

“Fuck Chaos!”

I pushed up from the ground, swiping his blade from him and upper cutting his chin. With his guard open, I swung the weapon towards his upper body. It tinged against his armour as he blocked the strike. After quickly repositioning, I used my leg to force him off his feet. He fell onto his knees. I tore his armour from his chest. He frozen in shock. It made me smirk wickedly. I could see the tension in his muscles. “Hand over the feather,” I requested again.

Suddenly, he pushed up off the ground with his wings. The span blocked the light from the moon, creating a huge shadow over me. I felt his full body weight land on my body. The air in my lungs was forced out and a burning spread inside them. Then a sharp pain shot through my head as it smacked the concrete. Pinning my hands above my head, he tried to subdue me. I flailed my legs, kicking his exposed body. The more I kicked, the more bruised by feet became from hitting the Angel. I found myself lunging forward and biting his shoulder. My teeth tore muscle and his blood soaked my mouth. He yelled and retracted away from me. There was enough space for me to slam my fist into his face hard enough to leave him unconscious. He fell ungracefully with a thud, throwing the dust from the chalk up into a cloud.

Tugging the sharp feather, I lacerated my palm in the process. I tightened my fist and watched the blood tickle down.