AMELIE - Part II

AMELIE - PART II

© Tamsin L. Silver 2013





I often blame my rash behavior on my red hair. Humans were always saying redheaded children were hotheaded. I’d decided that applied to angels as well. Seeing as God made both creatures, I saw no reason why one reality couldn’t apply to two realms. However, they are just excuses really. So hence, once I saw who my “attackers” were, and knew I’d overreacted, I blamed my hair.
There were two of them. My gaze drawn first to a pair of warm brown eyes. They belonged to a small, fair-haired human boy, no more than seven years of age. He pointed at me while his jaw continued to open and close without a single sound escaping his lips.

Quickly my eyes darted to the second human, who squatted down and put an arm protectively around the small, blonde boy’s chest. This young man, for he was more along the lines of sixteen or seventeen, had eyes the color of summer leaves and hair as black as a crow’s feather. A quick sniff brought their scents to me. Siblings. My head tilted in interest since they looked so terribly different. Then I saw it, in the shape of the eyes and the narrowness of the nose. The older of the two boys stared back into my eyes, causing me to realize they both could see me. Something to worry about later.

All of five seconds had past but I knew I wasn’t in danger and that I must look rather frightening. I slowly lowered my sword and wings half way. The movement caused a wave of pain to roll over me, and for a moment, I saw four boys. I blinked and my vision cleared.

Letting go of my bleeding side, I held out my hand, palm up, to signal that I wasn’t going to advance on them. The scent of fear left the air, changing to what I interpreted as empathy. It came from both, but it was the older boy’s eyes that grew wide at the sight of the blood on my hand and side. He stepped forward, using the same gesture I had. But where I’d only motioned, he spoke, as humans tend to do.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice soft and husky, yet not deep, as he was not a man yet. It reminded me of the comfort of a cat’s purr.

“Can you hear me?” I asked.

He exuded one chuff of laughter and said, “Ma’am, I’m not deaf.”

“That’s not what I meant, I—” I broke off as concern hit me. I lifted my sword again with a grimace on my face. “You need to run, hide. Get away from me. It’s not safe. Take your brother and run.”

“Whoa, lady, I don’t know where you got the get up or how you ended up out here, but you are injured and I can help you.”

“The ones who did this to me, they might be near. Go. Leave.”

“No one is within a mile of here except us.” He turned to his brother. “Go back to the four-wheeler and get the first aid kit, okay?”

The blond boy nodded, gave me a look, and then ran off, up the hill.

Stepping closer to me, the older brother said, “Now, if you’ll sit down, take those things off, we can lie you down on the grass and look at that wound before we get you back to town.”

“Take what off?” I snapped, clutching my dress.

“Oh! Nooooo. No no no…I didn’t mean your clothes. The wings. I know Halloween is around the corner, and I don’t know what party you were at, but it’ll be easier to treat you if you take them off.”

I blinked a few times, brow furrowed, examining him. Humans like to joke. This must be his sense of humor. Therefore, I smiled, and attempted to laugh. Pain ripped up my side, causing me to feel both nauseous and weak in the knees. With fear I’d pass out, I lowered myself to sit on the stones, leaning my back against a large rock and my sword across my lap.

“Damn it, he needs to hurry up.” He looked around for what I assumed was his brother. When he didn’t see him he called out, “Hustle your ass, Davey!”

I sniffed the air and listened, hand on the ground. “He is coming. Short legs.”

He laughed and I was unclear as to why. I raised an eyebrow at him.

He stopped by clearing his throat, and said, “Don’t let him hear you say that. Now, off with the costume,” he said, stepping toward me.

I pulled away, my wings shrinking inward, tight against my back.

He stopped moving. “How did you do that?”

“How did I do what?”

The boy huffed out a breath in frustration. Opening his mouth to say something, he stopped, now able to hear his brother as well. We both turned to see Davey bound down the embankment, a white box with red X on it and a handle in his hand. He was repeating the words, “I’m coming,” under his breath. However, he paused about ten feet from me and stared.

My vision blurred again and I saw Davey in triplicate. I blinked a few times and shook my head and he was a single entity again. “I will not hurt you, son of Adam.”

“Our dad’s name isn’t Adam,” the older boy started to explain, a tone of query in his voice as he looked at the blonde child and made a circle motion near his ear.

Pain rocked me hard and I lay down with my injured side up. Through the pain I said, “I need holy water.”

“Sure you do. Ok. Enough of this. Davey, help me get these wings off of her and let’s have a look at this wound.”

My eyes wanted to close. I felt warm and cold at the same time. Shivering, I muttered, “They don’t come off.”

“What? Did you sew them into the dress?”

“Killi? I don’t think they’re fake,” Davey said, his voice quiet but strong, as he slowly came closer.

“Of course they are, now we just need to—”

Unable to move away from him due to the pain, the older boy was able to carefully grab my shoulder and peer around to my back. The motion stabbed pain into me yet again, and I let out a cry.

Swallowing hard, I said the words again, “Holy water. The wound needs to be cleaned with holy water.”

The young man’s hands caressed my back, gliding a hand over a wing gently. “Impossible,” he whispered.

“I told you there was an angel in the river.”

The older boy sighed. Give me the gauze, scissors, and tape.”

“That won’t—” I started to say.

“It’ll keep you from bleeding out until we get you to the church in town.”

I could hear him fussing with the items in the white box. Finally he asked, What’s your name?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know.

“Fine. I’m going to have to touch you and cut some of the dress away. All right?”

When I didn’t answer again, letting darkness begin to take me, his gentle hands touched my face, brushing my hair away. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. “Eyes of summer you have.”

“Great, now she's Yoda,” he muttered. “Stay with me…stay with me now.”

I felt him cut around the wound, removed the material, and wash it with water. Patting it dry he said, “Gauze.”

“Gauze,” Davey repeated and I felt something dry cover my wound.

“Tape?”

“Tape,” Davey repeated again, then said, “Scissors.”

After a moment of laying tape on me lightly, the older boy leaned down and touched my forehead, his hand cool on me. “I’m going to have to press down to make it stick. Try not to pass out.”

All I could do was hum an agreement. That hum turned into a wail as he pressed down on the tape over my skin, and in the process, the wound as well. Pain surged through me, causing my eyes to fly open as I screamed out.

“Done! Done! I’m done. Breathe slower…easy breaths.”

Quietly I lay there, panting, tears streaming down my cheeks with one question on my mind. “Why has God forsaken me?”

“What?” the boy asked. Seeing my tears, the young man knelt by my head and leaned down. A hand reached toward my cheek but stopped. “Shhh…we’ll get you to some holy water. I promise. Can you sit up?”

I knew I couldn’t, so I didn’t answer him. It felt like too much effort to even try.

“She’s unresponsive, we got to move her. How the hell…I mean heck…do I carry her with those things?”

I had no idea what Davey did, but I heard the elder boy said, “You’re no help.” With a sigh, he ordered Davey to clean up the supplies while he walked around me, his feet making a lot of noise on the stones.

“Fireman’s hold. That’s all I can think of.” Again he knelt by my head. “I’m going to gently put you over my shoulder and carry you. It’s probably going to hurt like…like the dickens…but it’s the only way to get you to holy water. Okay?”

I forced out one syllable, “Yes.”

“I promise to keep my hands in appropriate places as best as possible.” With a loud sigh he added, “Well, here goes nothing.”

Carefully he slid his arms around me, running into difficulty when he hit my wings. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

With my last bit of energy, I lifted them up so he could get his arm under them and across my back. Once he had a good grasp, he braced himself, and lifted me up into his arms. I think I whimpered. I know I cried. I know I specifically cried out for God. When I did, I remembered something. It was something small and I knew nothing else to go with it, but just this small memory made me think that maybe God hadn’t abandoned me all together.

“Amelie,” I whispered.

“What?” he paused before walking again.

“My name is Amelie.”

I felt him nod. “My name is Killian. Killian MacGregor. Hold on, Amelie. I need to get you to the church on time.”

It was the last thing I heard before I blacked out.