Michael & I Ch. 03

He turned his head and sniffed at the wound on my hand, a hot gust of breath hitting my skin as he parted his jaws and rasped his tongue over the cut. Curiously I watched as the torn flesh knitted itself back together. I knew that it should have already healed on it's own but I was too weak. I also knew that I was getting weaker by the day. The years were catching up to me faster than I could have anticipated.

The hound growled softly as if to chastise me for being so foolish. "Thanks," I muttered going to collect my phone.

"RIEL? Fuck me. I was about to call in the SWAT teams. What happened?" Art shrieked sounding out of breath. I had to hold the receiver away from ear before my eardrum was exploded. I was slightly concerned that if that happened the hellhound would pin me down and slobber into my ear canal to heal me.

"It's just his hellhound. Everything's fine."

"Oh really? I didn't know he had one. Lot of good it did him, huh?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna finish up here and go home I think. Too much excitement."

"Sure thing, grandma. Should have yourself a glass of warm milk and watch Lawrence Welk to calm down," Art said. His dripping sarcasm practically got my hand sticky. "Fuck off," I snapped ending the call. The motel room yielded nothing. It was more like a meeting that had gone wrong than a place that the arms dealer had actually been living.

The hellhound had refused to leave my side despite trying to convince him otherwise. How could I say no to such a creature? I was the only one who would be able to see him anyway so slipping him into my apartment wouldn't be an issue. Of course other demons and Angels could see him as well but as far as I knew there wouldn't be any of those hanging around.

Despite there being a more dense population of demons around Las Vegas I managed to find two fairly nice apartments with no other demons living in the surrounding area for a few miles. It was unfortunate that I couldn't go back to my other one since it was probably being watched, now.

Later that evening I lay in bed studying the texture of the ceiling still able to see the splattered mess that had somehow once been a human body. It had shaken me up more than I cared to admit even to myself and I felt the chill of fear travel along my spine.

The hellhound rose from where he was resting beside my bed seeming to sense my unease and came to stare at me, his chin almost but not quite resting on the mattress. "I suppose I need to think of a name for you," I said. "I wish that you could talk and tell me what your name is but I have to call you something."

I thought about it momentarily needing to be distracted. "Isaac," I decided. "It was my father's middle name." I don't know why I was explaining myself to him but he seemed satisfied and gently bumped my hand with his nose in an affectionate gesture before lying back down.

My night was fitful, my casual sexual encounter with Sara that morning had done nothing to calm my wildly roaming thoughts of Michael and rooms that filled with blood. I was up by five the next morning, my body covered in a cold sweat and I couldn't stop the shivers that kept coming over me in waves.

I felt as if I had the flu and I could barely drag myself to the bathroom mirror. My appearance was a shock: my cheeks were hollowed and dark circles made my eyes appear sunken. Damn it. Why now of all times?

I tried to think but everything was becoming too hazy. For the first time I started to experience actual fear at the possibility of dying. I needed my phone if I could just call... someone... I was having a hard time remembering who I should be calling. I wondered why the floor was suddenly flying upwards until darkness overtook me.

*~*~*~*

A cool, wet cloth dabbed gently at my forehead as I tried to sleep and irritably squinted my eyes open to find the source. Only no matter how hard I tried to see everything remained dark. I began to panic and frantically thrashed as much as my heavy limbs would allow.

"Riel."

I froze instantly at the unfamiliar male voice that must also be connected to the damp cloth still tenderly being pressed against my clammy forehead. "Who are you?" I rasped. "Shh, try not to speak. You're very close to death and you need to conserve your energy," he said, his voice low and soothing.

"There are two things you need to know. The first is that you need to go to O' Donovans' as soon as this conversation ends. The second is that Michael has foolishly allowed himself to be captured."

"What?" I cried and immediately regretted it as my voice collapsed into a fit of coughing. Once I had quieted down the man continued. "The weapon you seek is in the hands of a demon named Solomon. He's an ancient and very powerful being and in his hands the weapon can do so much more than just kill the Archangels."

"How do you know... all of this?" I whispered. For several tense moments there was no answer and slowly, painfully as my eyesight returned I saw that I was now alone.