I Refuse To Fall, When They Still Exist

Rio has been hunting for angels since she can remember; travelling from state to state since she was born. When a shadowey succubus nearly takes away her breath, she has to fight to survive. And fight off her desires for the mysterious emo kid that helped her out.


16. Chapter 14

The nearest payphone was at the end of my road. The nearest working one however, was in the middle of town, near the mall. The angels that were hovering around it had fucked off, for some reason. I'd noticed it as I hauled Belial out of there, but I hadn't dwelled on it.

The handset slid in my gloved hand, as I reassured myself that no germs would be able to live on it in this freezing weather. I dialled the numbers, and began counting the seconds.

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi.

Someone picked up on the other end, adding the sound of someone breathing but not speaking. It was a little unnerving, as it could be a trapped number.

Four Mississippi. Five Mississippi. Six Mississippi.

"Don't hang up little girl." They eventually said. A young male, probably abbout my age. Something was slightly off in the spacing of his words. Like an accent, but not quite. I kept quiet, still counting the seconds.

Seven Mississippi. Eight Mississippi. Nine Mississippi. Ten Mississippi.

"Quiet as a mouse. Fine, when you're ready for answers, come and find me. Corner of Compass Avenue and Burke Street. You can just walk right in."

I slammed the handset down, then ripped up the paper scrap with the number on. It was evidence, and that was kept to a bare minimum. I had a severe gut pain after that, like someone had stuck a hand in my back and was pulling my intestines out. It bloody killed, and came out of the blue. I bent over, clutching my guts, and saw Mom's cat weaving around my legs.

"Prrreeeeoooowww." Sup boss? It sat proudy, looking straight up at me. Its long, white tail curled at the end. This wasn't normal. Mom's cat only showed up at night, yet it was sitting right in front of me in the middle of the day.

"Prrreeeeoooowww." Just go with the flow, Rio. It blinked its big, golden eyes, as the pain increased and I found myself in the air.

Not just levitating, but being dragged through the air by an invisible cord attached to something in my back. Mom's cat clung to me, digging it's sharp claws through Dad's thick parka, my old sweater, and into my skin. It was still standing though, like a witch's cat perched on the end of her broomstick.

This is fucked up. You're not supposed to be being hauled through the air.

It slowed to a mere crawl, as gravity finally started taking effect. I landed in a snowdrift, covering myself in it and the grit they sprinkle on it. It was disgusting, but there was an explanation for it. Unlike that weird dragged-by-an-invisible-cord-attatched-to-my-back shit that had happened. Dragging myself out, I saw where I was.

There was a small, low building behind a chain-link fence. Judging by the red cross on the sign out front, it was a hospital. It groaned in the wind, like it hoped to get up and get an extra-large packet of painkillers. In front of it was a shape I'd recognise anywhere. A truck crouched like a big cat, with sky-blue paint showing under the snow.

Our truck. This must have been the last place Dad voluntarily went. I ran up to the chain-link fence, hauling myself up and over it. Mom's cat followed, jumping lithely onto the steel bar on top, then gracefully landing on the other side. I however, got myself even more covered in snow, which was gonna melt eventually, and I'd be soaked and cold.

There was a stretch of unmarked snow between me and the truck, about 60 or 70 feet long. Normally I'd be keeping my eyes open for any spark of motion, but I was just walking through the thick snow as if I was on rails.

The loud bang behind me was a welcome wake-up call, alongside the rough yank at my collar, forcing me to the ground. I got a decent faceful of snow, as someone forced barked out the order to hit the deck. You don't fight when someone yanks you to the floor like that.

The bang came again, loud and clear. It sounded like a shotgun, and a fierce one at that. I scrambled to my feet, making a wild dash for the truck, when it happened again. The invisible cord pulled taut, and dragged me towards the truck. I was going feet first this time, so I got a good look at the angel lunging for the spot where my head was a second ago.

Her legs were stretched out behind her, propelling her forward for the pounce, and her hands extended into tacky claws. Her teeth had remodified again, and they were bared in an expression of rage and confusion. Her jet wings were flared out widely, like an eagle when it catches a salmon from the river, and the bold, pink streaks wove through her perfectly done, blonde hair. Last time I'd seen this angel, she was missing her jaw.

The shockwave of my boots hitting the steel truck door, jarred me back to reality. I hastily scrambled to my feet, then pulled the keys out of my pocket. There was a gun in the truck, and it would be goddamn useful. The shotgun spoke again, knocking her off-kilter. It was loaded with bird-shot, definitely, and enough to deliver non-lethal wounds.

Oh, please don't let the lock be frozen. I wrenched the key around, and the little bar thankfully sprang up. I dragged the door open, and dug under Dad's seat for the gun. I clicked the safety off the modified Glock, as the shotgun boomed again. I shut the door, wound the window down, then aimed.

The angel and the shooter were circling eachother, battling pure animalisticness with shotgun pellets. The shooter had the gun to his shoulder, and had a good shot lined up.

"Leave now girly, it's dangerous here." The shooter said, pulling the trigger. Bird-shot peppered the angel, covering her in tiny wounds. She snarled at me briefly, then turned her attention back to this kid.

Kid is accurate, as he only looked about 17. His honey-blonde hair would have made him look even younger, if it weren't for the muscles showing under his thin sweater. Screw a six-pack, it was more like a ten-pack.

"I'm armed." I replied, aiming for the angel.

"Well make use of the weapon then." This was definitely the same guy on the phone; the accent-thing was obvious. Obeying blindly, I pulled the trigger, catching her in the ribs. Blood arched from the wound, splattering the snow. That was a decent hit, but not lethal. Enough to make her turn tail though. Her wings spread out, and she soared off into the whiteness above. I fired again, and judging by the blood splattering the snow, I'd got a direct hit. Shotgun boy dropped the weapon, as I clicked the safety on. And he said it was dangerous for me to be here, but I'd gotten rid of the angel, and he hadn't.

"You're the one on the phone. I've got questions to answer, and you'd better start answering." I snapped, as he elegantly walked over to the truck door.

"I'm the wrong person to ask, and I recommend you get home quickly. Being out after dark is a dangerous thing to do." Again with the accent. It was definitely from somewhere in Europe, but I couldn't place where.

"Don't worry about that. I'm used to the dark. What I wanna know, is what happened to my Dad." I clicked the safety catch off again, so he knew I meant business.

"You should be the worrying one. The night is full of strange creatures, and not just the dark ones." He smiled, exposing his teeth, as all the colours except black and white seemed to bleed out of him. It was like being with a character from a silent film, until the fangs slid out of his upper jaw. The points delicately touched his bottom lip, making two dents.

Have you ever been so scared it feels like your flesh is crawling on your bones. I felt exactly like that, but even more, so my flesh wasn't just crawling on my bones, it was flat-out, Usain Bolt-style sprinting.

"You're a....you're one of them!" My hands started shaking, as he leant against the truck door. I really regret winding the window down now.

"Charles Illarde, nephilim. You're nothing more than helpless right now. Go home, leave a light on, and bolt your doors. This won't be the last time you see me, so prepare yourself."

He vanished. Just turning into nothingness and kicking up a spray of disturbed snow. I fired into the spot where he'd disappeared into, satisfied at the fresh blood splashing the snow. I was fucking dead though. When an angel specifically targets you, you were pretty much fucked up unless you had luck, or backup, and I was running pretty low on both. Even though it won't be much use if he returns, I wound the window up tightly, and put the keys in the ignition. Yeah, I was under the legal age, but I knew how to drive, and I had a couple of fake licences under the seat, just in case.

Fake ID won't get you out of this mess.

Even though I was starting to despise my conscience, I knew it was right.

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