Djinn: Cursed (3 page)

I started up the stairs and paused, looking at my wings as Mouse held onto the wingtip and walked beside me.  I hissed a profanity and then looked up to her.  “How do I hide these things?  I'm a freak.”

She smiled at me with nothing but pure mirth painting her features, making her look even younger and even prettier.  She chuckled out, “You're actually asking a mad woman how to hide your wings?”

She snorted, and I couldn't stop my smile as she started chortling.  I laughed with her then calmed myself.  I pulled my wing to me, dragging her along since she seemed unwilling to let go of the tip.

I pulled her in front of me and said in a suddenly serious tone,  “You're not mad.  You hear me?  It is a disease, it can be treated.  Do you understand me?”  I realized I was angry at her for being so flippant about her affliction.  It wasn't her fault, and it wasn't something to joke about.

Even in her current mental state, she helped a complete stranger, I don't think she even realized it yet.  That told me all I needed to know about the core of the person behind the haunted eyes.  I asked softly, “What's your name Mouse?”

She let go of my wing and hugged her arms to her chest as she looked down.  Her voice was small, like the mouse she took as her street name, as she said, “Dorian.”

I exhaled and then asked in a tone that sounded just as lost as I felt, “Can you help me, Dorian?  I need to see my... friends.”  My voice choked on the last word.

She nodded, and I folded a wing around her and squinted through my migraine.  She smiled warmly and held my wing to herself like a blanket, then said, “Come on, I think I know what to do.”

I had to chuckle when she added almost cutely, “I'm still calling you Angel.”

I nodded and acquiesced, “Fair enough.”  It was my name after all.

Then she was leading me down the litter-strewn alley and out into the San Francisco night, which seemed to swallow us whole.

Dorian led me from shadow to shadow, scurrying like her assumed name, Mouse.  San Francisco doesn't just roll up its streets and go to sleep at night.  It just comes alive with a different heartbeat as people seek an escape from their daily lives in an artificial wonderland.  But she seemed to be quite adept at moving around unseen by the people crawling the night streets.  The shadows were hers.

This was a particular bonus in my case, as I was distracted and still a little bit in shock.  I kept glancing at the impossibility of my wings as I kept catching them in my peripheral vision.  They were always just there, where nothing should exist.  It would take just one person seeing them to start the questions that I had no answers for.

I couldn't go to the police – not like this.  What in the hell would I tell them?

I hesitated and looked down at my one bare foot which was bruised and cold as I stood in another alley, the heat of the day had already seeped out of the pavement, and I shivered.  I instinctively wrapped my wings around myself, wincing at the bruise on the right one as it moved.  I was instantly warmer as the layers of great feathers created a barrier from the chill night air.

Then we were on the move again and wound up in an alley a few blocks from Hailey's, close to Chinatown.  Dorian looked around, cocked her head to the left and hissed under her breath, “I know that, do you think I'm stupid?” She glanced at me and lowered her voice to just a whisper, “They're still out there looking, just a block away.  Like they know where we are.”

Then she narrowed her eyes at me and said it again, “Like they know where we are...”  She stepped forward and pushed one of my wings aside and reached for me as I started backpedaling.  What was she doing?

My first instinct was to run, no... to fly, to get away and I half unfolded my avian appendages to do that before I paused when she started searching the pockets on my shredded blouse.  I blinked at my reaction, again, my instinct had been to fly.  I was in a fog, trying to self-assess my mental state, prodding to see if I could tell if anything else had changed in my mind.  How would I know?  It was a frightening concept.

She paused at my collar and then narrowed her eyes.  She tugged and something came off of it, and she held up a tiny electronic device.  I blinked.  Baldy had bugged me?

She growled at it and threw it as far as she could out into the street.  She looked over to the left again and hissed out, “I know.  Just let me think.  Where are they?”

She exhaled, and I reached a hand half out to her, wishing I could help.  My hell wondering if my mind had been messed with was nothing compared to her living it every single day.  She needed treatment, and meds to help mitigate the symptoms.  I was impressed that even as far gone as hearing voices, she was still functional.  She had gotten me this far.

She looked at my half-extended hand and smiled and took it and just started dragging me with her as she headed deeper into the alley.  “We only have a couple minutes.  They are heading this way, maybe a minute or two out.”

She pulled me to an old fire escape at a five-story building, and motioned for me to climb.  I hesitated, and she cocked her head toward the mouth of the alley.  “Hurry, they say they're almost here.”  We got to the landing of the rickety old, rusted fire escape.  My hand was sticky from touching it and I didn't really want to know what was on it.

Then she pushed on a sheet of plywood which was covering the second story window, it pivoted up on a single nail, and she said, “Inside quick.”

I hesitated then pulled my wings tight to my back and ducked through the window.  The glass had long since been broken out, and the blue paint was peeling from the window frame as I stepped into a dusty and dark room.  The place had been long abandoned.

A moment later Dorian stepped in and let the plywood slide back down in place, eliminating most of the dim light.  I could barely make out her face, in what little ambient light which seeped through from the boarded up windows, from the city beyond.

Then I heard the screeching of tires on pavement as cars came to a quick stop.  I opened my mouth, and she held a finger to her lips, and I remained silent.  Then she whispered to her left, “No, I'm not going to check.  You look.”

She cocked her head for a moment or two then she smiled at me.  “They say the men found the tracker in the street.”  We heard the cars speed off with the screeching of tires as they turned at the end of the block.  “They're gone.”  She exhaled and leaned her back against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor.

I moved closer to her and asked, “How did you know where they were?”

She looked embarrassed and said with all the shame and self-loathing a person could muster, she admitted, “They told me.”  She nudged her chin toward the window.

I nodded carefully and said, “I see.”

She huffed out a breath and glared at me, the little light we had glinting off her dark eyes.  She growled, “Don't.  Just don't.  I know I'm not playing with a full deck.  I'm not stupid.  I know I'm just hearing and seeing things... but they are almost always right.  I can't explain it.”

I just stared at her, not knowing what to say to that.  Then she reached up from where she sat and gently ran her hand over the leading edge of my left wing, again sending little tremors of pleasure through me.  It was so soothing.  She explained, “I'd think you were one of them, but I can't touch, or smell any of them.”

She paused and asked, “You're not a fallen angel?”

I shook my head and smiled a little at that.

She nodded then asked, “Then how is this...”  Her hand paused her stroking to indicate what she was speaking of as she finished, “...possible?  I know I'm not that far gone.”

There was another pause then she added in a half whisper, “At least I hope I'm not.”  Then she said like I hadn't noticed I was living a nightmare, “You have wings, Angel.”

I started crying and nodding as all the emotions that I had been holding at bay since this horror show of a night began, came crashing down on me.  This woman whom I didn't know, this perfect stranger who had done nothing but helped me since I literally fell into her life, leapt up and stepped forward without hesitation.  She embraced me, holding me and shushing me as I sobbed into her shoulder.

My wings extended a little then engulfed us in a shroud of false security.  We just stood there like that until I could get myself back under control.  I sobbed one last time saying, “I have to find my friends.  At Hailey's.  I have to know if they're really...”  I couldn't finish the sentence, I didn't want to voice the word 'dead'.

She nodded, and I unfolded my wings, and she stepped back.  She held up a finger and then moved to a canvas bag beside the window we had come in.  She pulled out plastic, battery powered lantern and switched it on.  She said with pride as she indicated the room in a sweeping gesture palm up, “Welcome to my place.  We'll get your wings hidden then see about your friends.”

I couldn't help but smile at her, and I looked around the little room.  Age and neglect had done a number on the room, it was in such disrepair.  The wallpaper was curling off the walls, and there were even a  couple holes in the wall where you could see the old lathe boards and plaster from a bygone era.  Most of the empty space was covered in dust and cobwebs.

There were a couple backpacks and more canvas rucksack style bags next to a sleeping bag in the center of the room.  I asked, “You, live here?”

She nodded and said in a chirpy tone, “It's not the Ritz, but it beats a cardboard box now doesn't it?”

I had to smile at how proud she sounded about that.  This was just a step up from a cardboard box, but at least it kept her out of the elements.  I nodded and said, “It's very nice.”

She grinned toothily as she countered, “Liar, it's a shit-hole.  But what's a girl to do?”  She stepped to the packs and started digging around in one.  “Here try this.  It is way to big for me, but it may work in your particular...”  She paused, looking for a diplomatic term before finishing with, “Condition.”

She handed me a large trench-coat.  I looked at it then my shoulders.  My wings spread a bit on their own.  She stood and looked at them in wonder and asked, “How do you, you know... control them?”

I started thinking about it, and how I had been using them all night without thinking.  I reached out to touch one, but it moved away in tandem with my hand.  I spread my arms, and the wings mimicked me.  I couldn't get them to do what I wanted.  I cursed, “Damn it!  When I actually think about moving them then, I can't get the fucking things to work.”

She cocked her head and said, “It is probably an instinctual response.  When your focus shifts that into the spotlight, you can't quite put the pieces together, and your brain substitutes what you know.  See how they move with your arms now?  It is like any other motor control, it is something you will have to learn.”

I blinked at her.  She stared at me and blinked back.  Then she cocked an eyebrow, “What?  Can't a girl have a brain, even if it is misfiring and a bit manic?”  She chuckled. “Fine, whatever, Robin told me to say that.”  She winked.

I tried to hide the big smile on my face behind a hand and almost hit her with a wing, but she ducked down in time.  I growled at myself.  “Fucking wings!”

She chuckled and stood back up and closed the distance between us and she said softly, “It's ok Angel.  Just relax, don't think about it.”  She snapped to the left, “Shut up, I've got this Randy.”  She turned back to me and just smiled.  It was a pretty smile.  Then she just said, “Hi.”

I found myself blushing as I said back to her, “Hi.” My wings went slack, and I folded them against my back as I pushed my sweat damp hair behind my ear.

She grinned like she had just won the lottery, “There.  See?”

I glanced back at my shoulders then turned back to smile at her.  I looked down at myself then pulled off the blouse and looked back over my shoulder again, trying to see where the wings came out of my back, high between my shoulder blades, I raised one so I could get a better look. The neckline of the tank top had been pushed down to accommodate them, and I absently wondered how I'd get out of the shirt.  There was no way these god damned wings would get through the neck hole.

I turned back to Dorian as I held the remains of my favorite blouse.  She had an almost dazed look on her face as she smiled.  I glanced down.  Dear Lord, the tank top was plastered to me, and not leaving much to the imagination.  My wings came forward to cover myself bashfully.  I asked, “What?”

She held her hands up in a surrendering gesture, “Nothing.”  Then she added with unveiled innuendo, “Angel.”

I gave an incredulous squeak and threw my blouse at her as she chuckled at me.  I caught myself grinning and pushed it away then looked at the trench-coat and pulled my wings as tight to me as I could and shrugged into the coat.  It was a man's, meant to hang down to his knees, but it came down to my ankles.  I could see the tips of my pinion feathers peeking out beneath it, just an inch from the ground.  Huh... like they were the exact length as not to drag.

I was just able to pull the front closed and button it with the mass on my back.  I looked back, I looked hunchbacked.  I looked at Dorian, who was in a whispered argument with someone named Dan.  She felt my attention on her and turned.  I asked, “So?  Passable?”

She nodded and said with a slightly amused smirk, “You look like you should be in a bell tower at Notre Dame, but yeah.  That'll work.”

Then I looked at the coat again and asked, “Why do you have this if it doesn't fit you?”

She narrowed her eyes almost dangerously and said in a measured tone, almost in challenge, “It's mine.  I found it.  That's the rule.”

I held up my hands and assured her, “I'm good with that.”  Then I looked down at my feet.  I could feel the dust and detritus I was standing on and bunched up the toes of my one bare foot.

She huffed out an exasperated breath then said, “You're like the worst angel ever.” She started digging in the rucksack.

I countered, “I'm not an angel.”

She pulled out some ratty looking sneakers as she said, “You don't get a vote.”  Then she paused and said, “I get your sandal.”

I squinted at her and said as I took it off and handed it to her, “There's only one.”  My feet felt so dirty on the grimy floor.  She almost yanked it out of my hand and handed me the sneakers.  I looked at them in the dim light, then her as she stuffed the sandal into her rucksack.

I exhaled and tried the ratty things on, I was sure they would look even worse than I thought in the light.  They were a little big on me, but I cinched the laces tight to make up for it.  Then I exhaled and said to the woman who was cussing at Randy, “I need to get to Hailey's.  Thank you, Dorian.”

I started toward the window, and she stepped up beside me.  I looked at her, realizing she intended to go with me.  I shook my head. “You shouldn't follow.  People around me are dying, and someone is chasing me for reasons I can't fathom.  And I have...”  I looked at the hump on my back.

She snapped her head to the side and growled, “Shut up Robin.”  She turned back to me and grinned.  “You're sort of my responsibility.  You almost fell on top of me, and I have to help.  I mean, how often does someone have the chance to help an angel.”

I started to correct her, “I'm not an...”