Phantom Warriors: Linx (19 page)

He had no idea what he was running from,
but his instincts told Paul that he was in real danger. Denial clawed within
his mind. This couldn’t be happening. Not when he was so close to achieving his
dream. He left the safety of the sidewalk and raced over the grass-covered
hills, skirting the trees as he ran for the safety of his lab.

A gust of wind struck him as he neared the
bottom of a hill, knocking Paul off his feet. He hit the ground with a thump,
the air rushing from his lungs as he tumbled the rest of the way down. He
wheezed and quickly rolled to his knees.

Paul had braced himself to rise when a
pair of steel-toed black biker boots landed in front of him. He followed the
boots up over jean-clad legs to a narrow torso.

Gloves covered the man’s hands, but left
his corded forearms and thick biceps exposed.
The stranger’s
wide shoulders blocked out the waning sunlight, taking the warmth with it.
When Paul reached the man’s face, he found himself captured by striking blue
eyes, the same glowing eyes he'd seen in the pub earlier.

Paul cried out and fell back, crab walking
to get away from the stranger. It was then that he spotted the black wings
protruding from the man’s back. Paul froze, his gaze transfixed. He slowly
blinked. When he opened his eyes, the wings were still there, black like a
ravens, but shinier.

Exhilaration filled him. He wasn’t staring
at a man. He was looking at an angel.
A real, honest to
goodness, angel.
“I knew it.” Paul climbed to his feet. “I told them
that you existed, but they didn’t believe me.” He marveled at the glistening
wings. “You’re living proof that I was right.”

* * *
* *

Ardan
scowled at the bald, slightly overweight middle-aged man. “You do not seem
frightened by my presence, human.” The beings that he’d encountered over the
years had all begged and pleaded for their lives. This one’s behavior was most
unusual.

Paul chuckled nervously. “Why should I be?
You’re an angel. Everyone knows that angels are loving beings.”

Now that
was
funny.
Ardan
threw his head back and
laughed at the man’s naivety, the sound rusty to his own ears. He slowly
removed his gloves. One touch, and this human would cease to exist. “I believe
it is you who are mistaken,” he said.

Paul’s smile faded and his bushy brow
furrowed. “You’re not an angel? You look like one.” He tilted his head and
stared at
Ardan
in confusion. “I realize the
descriptions throughout the ages have been based on mythology, but—”

“Enough!”
Ardan
bellowed, interrupting his rambling, but only for a moment.

“Do you have a name?” Paul asked
expectantly. “I know there are hierarchies, but you must have a name?”

"I do,”
Ardan
said. “But you can call me death."
Ardan
raised
his right wing and swiftly slashed the man, cutting deep.

Paul Druthers screamed as razor sharp
feathers sliced through his chest, straight to his heart. “Why?” he sputtered,
choking on blood as he clutched his chest.

“It’s not for me to ask,”
Ardan
said. He should’ve touched him. Death would’ve been
instant, less messy, less vocal.

The man fell over, his sad expression a
mixture of horror and confusion as the life slowly seeped from his hazel eyes.
His soul’s cry was quickly drowned out by the wail of sirens.

That was fast
,
Ardan
thought as he looked
around to ensure he had not been spotted. Not that it mattered. His time here
was over.

He stared at Paul Druthers for a moment
longer, before striding away. He glanced at his forearm and watched the man’s
name slowly fade from his skin. The squall of the sirens grew louder. Soon the
police and ambulance would be upon them. They'd find a heart-attack victim when
they arrived.

Ardan
launched himself into the sky and flew to a nearby copse of tall trees. He
leapt to one of the higher branches, hugging the shadows near the thick trunk
to watch the chaos unfold. There was no point in lingering, yet for some reason
he did.

The EMT's arrived and lifted Paul Druthers
onto a gurney to transport him to one of the nearby hospitals. It would do them
no good. He was gone.
Ardan
had already heard the
soul’s whisper. There was no returning once that occurred.

A quiet growl near his feet drew his
attention away from the flashing lights.
Ardan
glanced down at a kitten precariously clinging to the tree branch. Its orange
hair and tail stood on end as it hissed in displeasure. He carefully donned his
gloves and plucked the kitten off the branch.
Ardan
held
the feline up to his face.

“What are you doing up here?” he asked,
staring into frightened eyes. It gave a silent meow.
Ardan
tucked the scared cat against his chest. It dug its sharp claws in deep. He
winced and gently stroked its head until the spitting hisses stopped and loud
purrs erupted. “That’s better.” He waited until the ambulance faded into the
distance, then took to the sky as night settled over St. Louis.

Ardan
found a worthy home, then placed the kitten on its doorstep. It yowled until a
little girl opened the front door. Soft brown fingers quickly snatched the
kitten up,
then
she ran inside, slamming the door
behind her.
Ardan
heard her yelling, ‘Mommy, Mommy
look what I found’ as he slowly ascended, leaving Earth and its problems
behind.

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