body.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he replied. “Patient forty one.” He gripped her shoulder. What he did would hurt initially. His hand almost glowed from the amount of hot energy he shoved into the wound.
“Stop!” the woman gasped. She elbowed him with her good arm, trying to wriggle away.
Nathan leaned into her, trapping her between his body and the elevator wall.
She was panting, the colors of her aura all over the place.
“I don’t know,” she said again. “I came for … a tour. Got stabbed by some crazy chick. I just woke up. I don’t know.”
Her body said it was the truth. Before Nathan could ask anything else, the woman slumped, unconscious.
He sighed, irritated. The girl they came to break out wasn’t in the room she was assigned to on the third floor. Maggy had said to check the basement second. They had limited time with the power being out before it was restored. He needed to find her and get out.
And here he was with some other woman unconscious in his arms. He debated leaving her then decided not to. She’d had a rough enough day.
The door dinged, indicating they’d reached the main floor. Nathan balanced the woman and bent, lifting her. The lobby was dark, and he made out the shape of a couch.
He crossed to it and set the small woman on it. Unable to see her face, he leaned down and placed his hand on her wound again. She murmured in objection but didn’t wake.
The energy was pooling around her injury. She’d be healed by morning.
He drew circles counter clockwise in the air above her to prevent the energy from escaping. Satisfied, Nathan returned to the elevator and went to the basement.
The door opened.
While auxiliary power had kicked in on the upper three floors, it hadn’t here. Orderlies moved through the hallways quickly with flashlights, securing doors and guiding patients back to their rooms. Nathan used their auras as a guide to track who went where and moved stealthily through the hallway, guided by a rainbow of colors only he was able to see.
The girl he sought would glow white and sparkly. He glanced through the windows of rooms as he walked. All the way at the other end of the hallway, two rooms before the dead end, he found her.
Nathan tested the door. It was locked. He reached into a cargo pocket and whipped out a lock pick set, suspecting things were about to get messy when the lights came on and the beefy orderlies spotted him.
He knelt calmly. He traced the outline of the lock with one hand then pulled out his first tool.
The door opened. He looked up, surprised to see the first gen angel he sought standing in the doorway.
Her aura flared a few different colors – yellow for anxiety, green for excitement and blue for sorrow – before it faded to pure white once more.
Nathan stood. She was shaking and tall. He started to speak quietly then stopped, aware she couldn’t hear him. Instead, he rested a hand on her arm and pushed energy into her, knowing a first gen angel would understand the comforting gesture.
She took his hand and squeezed it.
It was enough for now. Nathan shoved the locksmith tools into his pocket and tugged her down the hallway. They paused before the common area, and he calculated quickly how to weave through the chaos before him. After a few seconds, he drew the first gen angel into his side so he could steer her body, then plunged into the mess.
She clung to him, trembling, as he moved deftly through the orderlies and patients milling and darting through the common area and hall. Nathan stretched his senses, the ones originally crafted during war in the Roman Empire to predict an enemy’s movement before he moved.
He reached the other side of the common area and released her, taking her hand.
His watch vibrated, indicating he was out of time. Nathan slid a knit mask over his face then ran. They reached the door separating a waiting area and elevators from the patients just as the lights went back on.
The locks were back in place.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he replied. “Patient forty one.” He gripped her shoulder. What he did would hurt initially. His hand almost glowed from the amount of hot energy he shoved into the wound.
“Stop!” the woman gasped. She elbowed him with her good arm, trying to wriggle away.
Nathan leaned into her, trapping her between his body and the elevator wall.
She was panting, the colors of her aura all over the place.
“I don’t know,” she said again. “I came for … a tour. Got stabbed by some crazy chick. I just woke up. I don’t know.”
Her body said it was the truth. Before Nathan could ask anything else, the woman slumped, unconscious.
He sighed, irritated. The girl they came to break out wasn’t in the room she was assigned to on the third floor. Maggy had said to check the basement second. They had limited time with the power being out before it was restored. He needed to find her and get out.
And here he was with some other woman unconscious in his arms. He debated leaving her then decided not to. She’d had a rough enough day.
The door dinged, indicating they’d reached the main floor. Nathan balanced the woman and bent, lifting her. The lobby was dark, and he made out the shape of a couch.
He crossed to it and set the small woman on it. Unable to see her face, he leaned down and placed his hand on her wound again. She murmured in objection but didn’t wake.
The energy was pooling around her injury. She’d be healed by morning.
He drew circles counter clockwise in the air above her to prevent the energy from escaping. Satisfied, Nathan returned to the elevator and went to the basement.
The door opened.
While auxiliary power had kicked in on the upper three floors, it hadn’t here. Orderlies moved through the hallways quickly with flashlights, securing doors and guiding patients back to their rooms. Nathan used their auras as a guide to track who went where and moved stealthily through the hallway, guided by a rainbow of colors only he was able to see.
The girl he sought would glow white and sparkly. He glanced through the windows of rooms as he walked. All the way at the other end of the hallway, two rooms before the dead end, he found her.
Nathan tested the door. It was locked. He reached into a cargo pocket and whipped out a lock pick set, suspecting things were about to get messy when the lights came on and the beefy orderlies spotted him.
He knelt calmly. He traced the outline of the lock with one hand then pulled out his first tool.
The door opened. He looked up, surprised to see the first gen angel he sought standing in the doorway.
Her aura flared a few different colors – yellow for anxiety, green for excitement and blue for sorrow – before it faded to pure white once more.
Nathan stood. She was shaking and tall. He started to speak quietly then stopped, aware she couldn’t hear him. Instead, he rested a hand on her arm and pushed energy into her, knowing a first gen angel would understand the comforting gesture.
She took his hand and squeezed it.
It was enough for now. Nathan shoved the locksmith tools into his pocket and tugged her down the hallway. They paused before the common area, and he calculated quickly how to weave through the chaos before him. After a few seconds, he drew the first gen angel into his side so he could steer her body, then plunged into the mess.
She clung to him, trembling, as he moved deftly through the orderlies and patients milling and darting through the common area and hall. Nathan stretched his senses, the ones originally crafted during war in the Roman Empire to predict an enemy’s movement before he moved.
He reached the other side of the common area and released her, taking her hand.
His watch vibrated, indicating he was out of time. Nathan slid a knit mask over his face then ran. They reached the door separating a waiting area and elevators from the patients just as the lights went back on.
The locks were back in place.
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