The alley, dark, dank, no different to any other alley in the concrete confines of the night-time city. No different bar the appearance of two figures, one sensual, and one ... other-worldly. The one steps back from the other, and looks around the enclosing walls surrounding them, while the other folds its wings confidently behind his back, where they seem to suddenly become less significant? Not that wings such as his could ever be termed insignificant, but suddenly, rather than being the first thing you noticed about him, they became perhaps the last thing you noticed as you took in his slender frame. His black tousled hair lent him an unkempt, almost gothic, appearance, an appearance that was accentuated by his choice of solely black clothing. The silhouettes of the two separated and merged with the enclosing shadows cast by the stark white streetlight at the end of the alley as they searched for evidence of the crime.
Out on the main street, the stain of His blood lay like an accusation of the unspeakable theft of her wings, a black shape crept from the grating on the street, it seemed drawn by the taint there, attracted by the violence of the scene so recently enacted. The shape slid slowly across the road, up the curb and over the footpath before finally coming to rest disguised in the shadow cast by a discarded soft drink can on top of a pile of garbage at the mouth of the alley. It seemed to be watching, watching the couple as they searched.
"M-M-Marchiesis ... Come here," Kate's voice quavered uncontrollably as she spoke, she felt sick as she surveyed the scene before her.
"I-I-I think I've found the place ... where ... it happened," she said, a strange calm coming over her voice.
Marchiesis looked up from the nook he was investigating, and then was suddenly by her side, his arm instinctively, and unknowingly, going around her shoulders, pulling her close as he gazed over the evidence of the violent night before. Before them lay a scene shocking in its brutality, grey feathers and spatters of blood lay scattered across the filthy surface of the alleyway. A stark contrast of pristine feathers, bright even though sullied by trauma, and the scummy, oily water and mud that formed the uppermost layer of the alley floor. As she took in the devastating scene before her, she felt again the weight of her new-found mortality. Was she mortal? Had she ever been immortal? If so, how could such a theft have been perpetrated? She raised her hand parallel to the ground and with a thought brought the feathers into the air, commanding them to re-form before her into the wings they had once been.
Slowly, one by one, the feathers lifted gently from the ground and floated, as if borne by zephyrs of the gentlest breeze, before her face, settling slowly into the vague shape of a majestic pair of wings. Wings with holes and gaps, more holes and gaps than wings at all. As the pair looked on, they realised that much of the fabric of Kate's wings had been removed, that the remnants they saw, so stark against the mundane alley backdrop, comprised merely the barest fraction of what was stolen.
"They - they're not whole," she said in numbed bewilderment, "they're not whole. Where are my wings? Stolen ... Stolen by whom? How could this be? Why?"
Bizarre schemes and grisly scenes unfolded in her imagination, the paintings of her fear. Scenes of glory defiled, images of purity despoiled and twisted, power reached for in some arcane lunacy of fleshy experiment. An inkling of a more in-depth plan began to appear in her mind, a realisation of one of The Source's most recent fears, humans not only discovering the reality of the existence of Angels, but coveting their power. The feathers fell from the air. Marchiesis saw into her mind, it seemed that with the loss of her wings he had finally surpassed her in strength and ability, yet he must be careful, she retained some of her skill, how much was yet to be fully measured.
The feathers settled back onto the ground, the first arriving like a fresh snowflake, the rest arrayed above it, suspended in the air as Kate's concentration wavered, distracted by her fearful imaginings. A shadow crept from garbage heap to garbage heap, sliding unseen in the deeper shadows of the alley, hopping from place to place, swiftly and furtively approaching the Angels' feet.
"Kate, whatever they might intend, they have only the smallest part of you. The core of your soul, your power and your presence has always been within you, not merely contained in the symbolic spread of your wings. Whatever they intend, they will need more than simply a scrap of your flesh."
"No Marchiesis, we are, or I was ..." she started, remembering her current status, " shining beings. Our purity and divinity is spread throughout our bodies, neither our head nor our heart holds the core of our abilities. This is something I have learned from my long existence, a younger entity, like yourself, only a few eons old, may not be fully aware.
"I've weathered the rebirth of the Universe twice Marchiesis, while you were born into this one fresh-made. I've watched myself be created over again, I know how I am made."
The last of the feathers drifted softly from the air and settled into the muck and mud before the Angels feet. The first had already began to lose it's shine, as if it recognised that it had been touched for the last time by the Divine power given to the Angels above it. Faint spatters of mud began to encroach on it's grey surface. The shadow crept nearer, it seemed to be smelling it's way towards the fallen feathers, attracted by them, but attracted by WHAT? A dark pseudopod rose from the shadow, giving it a three dimensional form for a small moment, and swayed back and forth, as if watching, looking for a moment of inattention, ensuring its own safety.
"Our power resides in all of our parts," she continued, "not just one, and that means that all our parts contain our power. Or should I say, acts as a conduit to our power, for we are not flesh-and-blood beings, Marchiesis, or at least, we shouldn't be."
Kate looked downwards at her muddy feet, despoiled by the filth of the alley in which she stood - unlike Marchiesis' feet, which remained pristine, and recognising the truth of her new reality, she continued...
"Our parts connect us to The Source, and is our Skill that allows us to manipulate that Omnipresent Force and bend our reality to our will. All that it would take is one of similar skill to obtain a part of us, a living part of us, to also reach The Source, and our power would also be theirs. Like this entity at our feet!"
Kate pointed downwards at the shadow. The shadow, all secrecy discarded, swept forward, swift and sure; it enveloped a feather, swamped the still-bright feather in its own inky form.
"This small entity here can sense the power in my remnants ..."
The shadow shuddered, and seemed to swell, made larger by what it had ingested...
".. and even now, so soon after touching my own cells ..."
... and seemed to swell larger still, it's form writhing ...
"... it touches The Source, and feels the influx of energy and potential begin ..."
... the shadow flexed, larger still, and seemed to hummock up, contorting as if in pain. A pseudopod extended forth, seeking for something, it swiftly withdrew and the shadow shot forwards, enveloping another feather.
"... It feels full, it feels strong, and it wants more ..."
Marchiesis watched on as the shadow skipped around them, devouring all feathers in swift succession. The shadow rested at the location of the last feather, and seemed to breathe, pulsing as it absorbed the feather, and filled itself with Potential from The Source.
"... Like a burning addiction, my feathers fill it with the need for more and more energy, it swells, and draws more into itself. This entity lacks skill ..."
As she spoke the shadow swelled, towering tall, no longer bound to a mere two dimensions, it loomed above the pair, still writhing. It seemed powerful, and appeared to prepare for attack. Hard edges appeared along its length, and pseudopods extended, tipped with a hard edged shadow that glistened with a knife-life sharpness. Deeper holes opened in it's substance, gaping openings to Nothing, sucking at the air around it, creating a whirlwind of detritus and garbage, all sucked into oblivion by the swollen dark entity. The Angels stood firm, and seemed to be merely interested by the show before them.
".. to properly control what it draws, it is a simple creature and will surely ..."
The shadow bucked, as if in pain, and broke open at its top, a fountain of shadow-fabric spewed from it's torn profile, and the air filled with a barely-audible scream, a shriek that filled the aether with the pain this thing was feeling. Pseudopods retracted, mouths to Nothing closed in a rictus of pain, the shadow diminished, losing substance like a punctured balloon, screaming the whole time and contorting back and forth in mortal agony. With a sound like torn paper, it crumpled to the sodden ground, and slowly, like an amoeba, began to pull itself back together.
"... die. This one is lucky, it's very nature is fluid, so it appears that it is able to restore wounds and rents in its body, and may in fact, recover."
The shadow, almost fully restored, slunk back into the corners from which it came like a whipped dog, and vanished there.
"That was a simple entity Marchiesis, can you imagine what a more complex creature might manage? A human? They are imbued with a sense of the Divine my Angelic Friend, and may, just may ..."
"... be able to contain the power they draw," he completed, "and may thus pose a serious threat to the rest of this Reality! But, Kate ..."
"... what about my inability to translate myself here?" Kate continued, "My wings, as are yours, are bound to my locomotion, and translating is bound to the same type of use. I possibly still have the ability, but need to re-learn how, which may take me some time. However, that is not to say that a human in possession of my wings would be gifted only with locomotive powers. That human would have to learn everything about how to utilise the Divine Energy from The Source, and would undoubtedly learn first how to advance itself over its fellows before indulging in further research."
Kate trailed off as the full import of what they had discovered and surmised sank in, it appeared that much more than the abuse of an Angel was afoot here. A whole new kind of threat was in the dawning. Her face drained of all color, a feeling she had not yet experienced, and one that she was not altogether fond of.
This mundane state of existence still had some surprises in store for her it seemed. Marchiesis looked at her, as he began to realise the seriousness of what Kate was saying.
"But Kate, how could that be possible? Never before has such a thing been heard of, especially to one such as yourself... A younger ", he looked downcast at this admission, " Angel would perhaps be not so much of a problem, but Kate, you were amongst the more experienced of us. How could this happen to you?"
"I was weakened, Marchiesis. Weakened by the gift I gave to Him..."
Kate's chestnut eyes softened in her stern ebon face as she remembered the image of His face, pressed against the concrete before her, bleeding. The recollection disturbed her.
"Take me home Marchiesis, I've seen what I want," as Kate stepped back from the alleyway, her heel slipped in the spilled blood, where He had lain.
"No! I must find out who He was," she exclaimed before Marchiesis could envelop her again with his soft, velvet dark wings. Despite herself, she felt that same old attraction, and the need to be close to him. What was this? Emotion? Emotion for Marchiesis? Enough, she would deal with this at another time. Resolutely, she turned towards the gutter and gazed upon the stain left by His passing.