Lucas groaned in
protest.
Pulling the white sneakers free, I sat on the cold concrete floor and pulled my robe aside. The smell of ozone tickled my nose, but I didn't pay any attention to it—although I should have. As I laced them on my feet, I heard what sounded like a rolling thunderclap. Glancing at the warehouse's dirty windows I could see stars through them. Confused, I stood up in the shoes that were easily two sizes too large. Glancing straight up, I watched a heavy, black cloud roll along the roof toward us. "Crud,” I breathed.
A lightning bolt arced down instantly from the cloud and struck me solidly in the chest. The bolt would have probably stopped my heart, if it were actually still beating. Instead, it knocked me hard into concrete. As my head snapped forward, it bounced off the floor, and splitting pain roared through my skull. Rolling onto my side, I watched another lightning bolt slowly descend from the mystical cloud and wrap around Lucas’ body like a hand. The bolt carefully lifted the injured Warlock and pulled him back into the cloud. Looking as if the cloud was rolling in reverse, it started to pull away. Within moments it, and Lucas, were gone.
Sitting up, I felt a surge of pain in my chest where the bolt had hit me. Holding my arm across my chest, I stood up with a grunt. Peeking inside my robe, the smell of charred flesh smacked my nostrils. A black scorch mark spread out just above my cleavage. The burn was cracked open angrily, letting blood spill over my tank top and down my chest.
By all rights, I should be dead. Something saved me. That was the only explanation that made any sense. Although my aching body and the pounding headache told a different story, I was lucky to still exist. I looked down at the white shoes on my feet. At least it didn't take those. I sighed. I was going to need them to walk home. Returning my attention to the warehouse, I knew I better get out of here before who or whatever took Lucas decided to come back for me. Holding my arm across the burn on my chest, I hobbled painfully toward the only door I could see. Chapter I wasn't entirely sure where I was. From ground level, I couldn't see anymore than the dilapidated warehouses surrounding me. The glow from the downtown casinos seemed to spread evenly over the city giving me no clue as to which direction I needed to go. The wound in my chest ached each time I took a step. I could feel the blood cooling and becoming crusty on my skin. Constantly brushing my hair away from the sticky smear on my face, I was sure I either looked like a battered woman, or a deranged killer. I was betting on the latter.
This wasn't the first time I had drunkenly wandered down a darkened street with blood covering me, but each time I hoped it was the last. My mind swam with memories of a time when this was all I was. And how I hated myself for it. I was a killer. I was the wolf in sheep's clothing desperately wanting to be one of the flock while each night picking them off one by one. Even as the Warlock's blood swam in my veins rejuvenating me, keeping me alive, I hated myself. Stumbling off the street, I tried to brace my arm against the side of a nearby building but misjudged the distance and missed. Tumbling to the ground, I felt the edge of a broken bottle dig into my forearm.
Pulling the white sneakers free, I sat on the cold concrete floor and pulled my robe aside. The smell of ozone tickled my nose, but I didn't pay any attention to it—although I should have. As I laced them on my feet, I heard what sounded like a rolling thunderclap. Glancing at the warehouse's dirty windows I could see stars through them. Confused, I stood up in the shoes that were easily two sizes too large. Glancing straight up, I watched a heavy, black cloud roll along the roof toward us. "Crud,” I breathed.
A lightning bolt arced down instantly from the cloud and struck me solidly in the chest. The bolt would have probably stopped my heart, if it were actually still beating. Instead, it knocked me hard into concrete. As my head snapped forward, it bounced off the floor, and splitting pain roared through my skull. Rolling onto my side, I watched another lightning bolt slowly descend from the mystical cloud and wrap around Lucas’ body like a hand. The bolt carefully lifted the injured Warlock and pulled him back into the cloud. Looking as if the cloud was rolling in reverse, it started to pull away. Within moments it, and Lucas, were gone.
Sitting up, I felt a surge of pain in my chest where the bolt had hit me. Holding my arm across my chest, I stood up with a grunt. Peeking inside my robe, the smell of charred flesh smacked my nostrils. A black scorch mark spread out just above my cleavage. The burn was cracked open angrily, letting blood spill over my tank top and down my chest.
By all rights, I should be dead. Something saved me. That was the only explanation that made any sense. Although my aching body and the pounding headache told a different story, I was lucky to still exist. I looked down at the white shoes on my feet. At least it didn't take those. I sighed. I was going to need them to walk home. Returning my attention to the warehouse, I knew I better get out of here before who or whatever took Lucas decided to come back for me. Holding my arm across the burn on my chest, I hobbled painfully toward the only door I could see. Chapter I wasn't entirely sure where I was. From ground level, I couldn't see anymore than the dilapidated warehouses surrounding me. The glow from the downtown casinos seemed to spread evenly over the city giving me no clue as to which direction I needed to go. The wound in my chest ached each time I took a step. I could feel the blood cooling and becoming crusty on my skin. Constantly brushing my hair away from the sticky smear on my face, I was sure I either looked like a battered woman, or a deranged killer. I was betting on the latter.
This wasn't the first time I had drunkenly wandered down a darkened street with blood covering me, but each time I hoped it was the last. My mind swam with memories of a time when this was all I was. And how I hated myself for it. I was a killer. I was the wolf in sheep's clothing desperately wanting to be one of the flock while each night picking them off one by one. Even as the Warlock's blood swam in my veins rejuvenating me, keeping me alive, I hated myself. Stumbling off the street, I tried to brace my arm against the side of a nearby building but misjudged the distance and missed. Tumbling to the ground, I felt the edge of a broken bottle dig into my forearm.