Servants of Darkness: Chapter Three

“Dane! It’s another monster! The one who killed Kit!”

Bleeding from a deep stomach wound, Morgan stood cornered in the ally. Food escaped his body where blood should have been running.

“Kill him! Kill him!” a chant. People were chanting.

A crowd had gathered. A gang. A mob. Machine guns pointed at Morgan. Bloody body tied to a post. Rope wrapped around and around, keeping his life saving wings trapped inside his body.

...

“Do you think he’ll be ok? He’s awfully sweaty. And he’s been tossing and turning all night.”

“I know. He’s been having a nightmare since he first got here. I can’t seem to wake him up. He’ll have to do it on his own.”

...

Soft wings with green and purple swirls, damaged from rough hands grabbing hold, shaking them violently.

“Look! A kid! The creature has a kid!”

Long, straight, black and green streaked hair dragging on the ground.

“It’s ok, Morgan, baby, you stay safe...”

A knife thrust. Ear piercing screams. Blood splattering.

“Mother! No!”

Delicate wings ripping from warm flesh. Towering men. Clubs. Chasing. Huffing in the dark night. Yelling. Bright city lights. Concrete. Brick. Stone. Good places to hide. Weep. No. Mother always said not to cry. It never did any good. Straight face. Survive...

Survive.

...

“Will you ferry him out through the usual channels? I can let Blue know to expect another-.”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I should. There’s something different about him. I just wish I knew what it was.”

“He has no slave markings.”

“He could be from one of those we helped escape.”

“He’s not young enough. He looks like he’s at least fifteen or sixteen years old.”

...

Stomach twisting in hungry knots. Garbage. Food wrapped up. Still good. Clutching it close. Running away. Eating out of sight. Alone.

...

Cool cloth. Wet. Comfortable. Warm. Morgan’s eyes fluttered open. He blinked. Not recognizing the ceiling above him, he turned his head to find out where he was, when he saw a woman sitting beside him. She was partially leaning over him, her shoulder length dark red hair just brushing his face. The same metallic linked necklace with green gems circled her neck as if she were royalty. But if that were the case, why was she the one leaning over him and not some servant?

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

Her hand rested on his forehead, a wet cloth between separating their skin. Common sense told him to move, to get away as fast as possible. But at the same time he found that he couldn’t move. And he didn’t want to. Whatever he was laying on was so soft, warm, and cozy, so much nicer than his own bed. Cleaner too. The place smelled nice. Like flowers.

He didn’t deserve this. None of this. He turned his head away from her. Found himself in a warmly lit hovel. On the other side of the room he recognized a stove and a sink. A doorway to a small, dimly lit room stood beside the stove.

“You’ve been out of it for a few days.”

He looked back at Lilith. She hadn’t taken her eyes from him.

“But you will be just fine.” She smiled, a light smile.

Flee... must flee. Can’t stay. Don’t belong.

“It’s ok. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need.”

He blinked again.

“What’s your name?”

Morgan... but don’t tell her. Don’t tell anyone. When his eyes met hers they were piercing his soul, as if she could read everything he was thinking without him having to utter a single word.

“Ok, if you won’t tell me then I guess I’ll just have to make one up for you.”

She looked upward, toward the low ceiling and frowned in thought for a moment. Then she turned back to him, studied him.

“Lance,” she said at last.

That didn’t sound right at all, but he kept his mouth shut.

“So, Lance, let’s get you out of bed and into the tub. Aya’s drawing up some nice, hot water for you.”

A fluttering caught his eye and upon turning his head back to the stove he saw the girl picking up a pot sitting on a hot burner he hadn’t noticed before. She disappeared into the smaller room, the curtain in the doorway swaying in the breeze caused by her movement. The sound of water pouring into water met his ears.

“Ok, Lil. Water’s ready,” came the shrill, excited voice.

“Good. Come on, Lance. Let’s get you in there. Shall we?”

Lilith pulled the sheets from his warm body and he felt a cold shock rushing through him when he realized he was as naked as the day he’d been born. He quickly covered himself and tried to curl up into the familiar fetal position. His right leg didn’t move with the rest of his body and he found a crisp, white bandage wrapped around the lower portion.

“I’ve numbed your leg to alleviate the pain somewhat. Grab my arm and I’ll help you across the floor. It’s ok. It’s not like we haven’t seen anything before, hun. Now, come on.”

She held out her arm for him and he stared at it. What had she meant by calling him that word?

“My name’s Morgan.” The words came out so quiet he was sure she hadn’t heard him.

“Well, it’s certainly nice to meet you, Morgan. But how would you feel about getting clean and into some clean clothes?”

His skin itched. Hers was so perfectly clean and white. Had he ever been the same? Dirt and grime covered every part of his body, even those that had been covered in what little clothing he’d owned. His skin was so dark it was almost black. She seemed cool and calm in her skin. His had been bothering him, causing him to scratch at it often. Seeing himself without his clothes he could see the damage he’d done to himself. Red scratch marks lined his legs, arms, and torso, showing through the blackness. He brought the sheets back up over himself, trying to hide the awful truth from Lilith and Aya, not wanting to see it himself.

Lilith sat down beside him, gently placing a hand on his knee over the sheets.

“It’s ok, Morgan. We’re here to take care of you. This is what we do. Trust me, once you take that bath, you’re going to feel so much better. You’ll stop scratching, and your skin will heal. I promise. You’ll be as good as new in just a few short days.”

He watched her hand on his knee, unsure what he was really feeling. He wanted it off, and as far away from him as possible, while at the same time he liked the calm feeling it brought him.

“I have a crutch, if you’d prefer. If you don’t want either of us here. You can take yourself to the tub. But I think it’ll be easier if you’ve got help. I don’t want you slipping and falling. And you need to be careful with those bandages on your leg and try not to get them wet. I’ll give you a moment and let you decide. Ok?”

He nodded and relief swept through him as she stood up and moved toward an arm chair not too far away. She picked up a book and began to read. Not too far away, Aya found another chair. Crossing her legs he noticed that she wore black knee high boots with blood red roses stitched up the sides. She picked up a black piece of thick cloth, similar to that of her boots, and rested it on her knee. She began thrusting a needle through it, back and forth, back and forth, until Morgan found that she’d gone around the cloth in an entire circle. She smiled as she worked, seeming to enjoy herself. But what was she doing?

Something else caught his eye and as he turned, he found Lilith watching him, a small smile on her face.

“Ok. I’ll go,” he said before his brain had caught up with his mouth. He felt his cheeks turning hot in an instant.

“Do you want help?” Lilith asked.

He tried to move his injured leg, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Please.”

---

It was true, what she’d said earlier. He did feel better once he was cleaned up. He looked better too. His dark skin was white once again.

What he valued above his cleanliness, however, was that the feeling had returned to his injured leg. Though whatever paste she’d put on his wounds made sure he still couldn’t feel it, at least he could stand up and walk a little bit. Escape was more of a possibility now that he was on the mend.

After handing him a warm towel to dry himself off, Lilith set a pile of fresh clothing on the wooden chair in the bathroom for him and left him alone to change. He recognized the fabric right away as that which Aya had been working on. Had she been making these just for him? He held up a pair of black leather pants and admired the quality of work that had gone into them. He didn’t know much about tailoring, but they were nicer than his last pair of pants had ever been. He picked up the white shirt next with its billowing sleeves that seemed meant only for royalty. And a black leather vest came next before he scrutinized the leather boots complete with extra straps and loops that seemed meant for nothing but decoration. He had to admit, they looked strong, not just in how they were made, but also in how they were styled. Perhaps they gave their owner strength.

“I can’t...” he tried to get out.

He carefully folded them back the way she’d carried them in and set them back on the chair, as he sat on the wide edge of the tub the blue towel wrapped around his waist.

“I can’t wear these.”

“You can,” Lilith’s voice came from the doorway and when he looked up he found her standing there.

“No. I can’t. These are too good for me. I’ll just ruin them eventually. Where are my clothes?”

She exhaled a light sigh. “We had to throw them out. You’re clean now, you need clean clothes. Besides, Aya’s been working hard on those since you arrived. She made them specially for you.”

“She did?”

“Measured you and everything. They won’t fit anyone else.”

His face grew hot again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say anything bad. They’re nice. Really nice.”

“I’m glad you like them. Put them on and come back out here. I’ve got food coming. I know you must be starving.”

He nodded, but didn’t look at her.

“And don’t fight me. Just do what I say. Ok?”

He nodded again. When she turned on her heel and disappeared back through the curtain he stared after her a moment. Why was she doing all this for him? And why did she seem to be forcing him into it? He shook his head, trying to forget about it, and began getting dressed.

He felt different somehow, once he was fully clothed. He looked down at the new boots on his feet and wiggled his toes. He hadn’t been able to do that in a very long time. Living on the streets he’d been forced to wear used shoes and the shoes most often thrown out belonged to children with continuously growing feet. Here, his feet could breathe, could move around, but without the feeling that the boots would fall off. He pulled the pant leg up on his left leg, still amazed to see clean skin once again. He pulled up the right leg, to see the bandage he’d so carefully kept dry while bathing. It looked clean, but also looked weird on his body.

“Would you like a mirror?”

He looked up at the voice breaking into his thoughts to see Lilith again. He shook his head.

“You look good,” she said. “You look really good.”

Had anyone ever complimented him before? What was he supposed to say in return?

“Come on. Dinner’s ready.”

His stomach grumbled. Even if she hadn’t told him to obey her words, he doubted he’d be able to argue the point of food. Something smelled good.

Emerging from the bathroom Aya’s eyes swept over him from her chair and she stood up, boldly staring at him.

“Wow. You sure do clean up good!”

Morgan ducked his head. After a brief moment of silence he spoke, “Thanks... for the clothes, I mean... I like them.”

“Oh, I’m glad you do. It’s what I do. When I lived... when I... well, before I came here, I was taught to make clothes by the tailor I lived with. Now I make clothes for everyone who comes through Lilith’s.” She paused then rushed on. “I added extra padding in the knees. You know, incase, you need it. I know a lot of people need it.”

“I... I don’t... usually... but... but thanks...”

“Aya!” Lilith’s sharp tone brought both of their eyes to her. “I thought we talked about this. You shouldn’t have done that.”

She shrunk back a bit. “Old habits die hard, or so they say.”

“Just don’t do it again.”

“I swear I won’t.” Aya’s head fell so her chin was touching her chest and she was staring intently at the ground.

“Head up. You’re right. After all these years, we’re both still products of where we came from.”

Morgan looked between the two of them, watching Aya sit back down and Lilith turn back to the stove where she was stirring something in a large pot.

His curiosity got the better of him, “what did she do?”

Lilith ladled hot soup from the steaming pot into three bowls before setting them on the table and looking up at him.

“That’s nothing you need to be worried about right now. Sit down, both of you.”

Aya came over. “Don’t you think you should tell him?”

“I don’t know.” Lilith looked uncertain for once.

“Come on! Look at him! He’s got the hair. That should be a dead give away.”

Morgan looked up at the blonde streaked through his brown hair hanging in his eyes. What did she mean about his hair? She had similar colored hair after all. And Lilith’s hair wasn’t exactly normal either. In fact, only these two, his own mother, and the other girl who’d been with Aya the other day had unnatural hair coloring that wasn’t straight brown or black.

“No. I don’t want to have this conversation here, now. There’s something odd about this situation and I’d like to wait until I figure it out before I say anything I shouldn’t.”

“Lil!”

What was odd about what situation? He was homeless, that was all. What was so odd about that? His mother had died years ago. There was nothing special about her, unless you counted her beautiful wings.

“Morgan, you must promise me never to reveal your wings to anyone. They will not understand.”

“Morgan? Aren’t you going to eat?”

He shook his head to realize he’d been in a daydream about his mother before she’d died and both women were now watching him. They were both holding spoons half way to their mouths. He studied the utensils before finding his own on the table beside the bowl of soup. He found the spoon among the others and dipped it into the bowl, copying their movements.

Taking his first bite, he tasted something large and chewy with a slightly familiar taste to it. Chicken. But it didn’t taste like any chicken he’d ever had before. It tasted better. Next bite. Fresh carrot. Like the one he’d stolen from a garden once when he’d felt brave enough and hungry enough to do it. Broom scratches, and a wooden handle beating down on him from an old woman’s wrinkled hand made him flee the scene and never return. But he’d managed to escape with one delicious carrot. Fresh. That’s what the chicken tasted like. They hadn’t pulled it from that morning’s garbage heap. They’d walked into the butcher shop’s front door and paid good money for it. Fully realizing what he was eating, he stared into the bowl, unable to get over the fact, before he began to gobble it down quickly. He couldn’t take the chance of someone changing their mind and taking this wonderful meal away from him.

The three of them continued to eat in silence. Lilith and Aya watched him on occasion, smiling through their chewing, though neither mentioned his fast paced eating.

After awhile he looked up from his bowl when it was nearly empty and was amazed to see that Lilith had a large collection of books covering the opposite wall he hadn’t been able to see from the bed earlier. If only he could read the titles. The range of colors made them all look interesting. He looked back down at his soup, feeling shame creep over him in little waves. He couldn’t even read the title of a book.

But as his eyes fell, they caught on something. He whipped his head back up and stared at the checkered board on the low table between the two fluffy red chairs. There was the king. Beside him was the queen. The bishop. That was the knight! And the rook. If he was not mistaken. It had been a long while since he’d seen these characters.

“Do you like to play chess?”

He shook his head.

“Aw, what do you like to do?” Aya’s perky voice pipped up. “Surely there must be something you like. Right?”

“I live alone. No friends.”

“Hey, well, Lil is an excellent chess player. I’m sure she’d love to teach you how to play. It’s lots of fun! I’d teach you myself, but well, see, I can’t really play that well. It’s not my thing. I like to make things. You know? Clothing, for instance. But other things too. I’m handy with a hammer. I made those shelves for Lil’s library. Mostly they’re about plants though, so you might not be interested in them. But maybe you will be. She has a plant shop next door. And maybe you’ll help out there. Others, like you and me, have before. Clarice was the last. You met her briefly, the other day. She came right before you flew away.”

“Aya,” Lilith’s stern voice broke her non-stop, excited chatter.

“Oh right. Sorry, Lil. Didn’t mean to get carried away. See Morgan, when I get excited... well, this is what happens. And she has to shut me up.” Aya sighed. “I’ll get started on the dishes. Are you finished Morgan? Or do you want more?”

Morgan shook his head again. “I’m fine.” Then he looked up at Lilith, sitting straight in her tall backed wooden slatted chair while he’d slumped forward to be closer to his soup. He quickly sat up straighter. “I should do something... to pay you back... for your kindness... I mean...”

“Nonsense, Morgan. The only thing you need to do is go over there and teach me how to play chess. Aya, you don’t need to do the dishes. I know you’ve got a lot of work waiting for you at home. I must say I greatly appreciate your help these past few days.”

“Oh, no problem, Lil. I’m still working on a second outfit for you, Morgan. But I promise to have it done soon.”

“No, you really don’t need to...”

“Morgan, you can’t possibly go around naked. Can you? Now that you’re living with Lil for a bit, you’ll need more than one set of clothes. At the very least one to wash and one to wear.”

What did that mean? One to wash? And one to wear?

“Never mind. You’re getting more clothes whether you like it or not. You can thank me later.”

Aya gathered the black leather she’d been working on earlier and put it into a thick white bag with long handles, tossing it over her shoulder as she headed for the door.

“I like the boots.”

She stopped and turned, a bright smile on her face. “They look good on you,” she said. “I’m glad you like them. Lil, I’ll stop by sometime tomorrow to see how things are going. Alright?”

In a moment, Morgan was left alone with Lilith.

“Shall we?” Lilith motioned toward the chess set.

“I told you-”

“Morgan,” she paused, as if debating how to propose something. “Do you know what all of your abilities are?”

“Abilities?”

“When you were escaping from the High Court’s Armed Forces, they clipped your leg. But once you had your wings out, they couldn’t hurt you. You know this. But do you know what other abilities you have?”

What was she talking about? How could he do other things? And how would she know about them? Maybe people like them had a certain number of ‘abilities’ and it was higher than being bullet proof and flying. But this made no sense. She didn’t know him at all. They’d only just met.

“You can project your thoughts to other people.”

What?

“I can hear all of your thoughts.”

“You... you can?”

“There’s a chance you can hear mine. I once knew someone who had that same ability. He would share private conversations with his girlfriend and no one else was ever wise to it. For you, if you can hook up with the right people, it could come in handy someday.”

Morgan took a step back, keeping his eyes locked on her. There had been a slim chance he could trust her. After all, she’d taken him in, when she didn’t have too. She’d fed him, clothed him, and helped him get better. But what if it was just a trick. A trick meant to get him to...? To what? What use could he possibly be to her? He was a poor homeless kid with nothing to his name.

“That’s not true, Morgan. You’re not a poor homeless kid anymore. And don’t think that just because you own nothing that you have nothing, that you’re worth nothing. That’s the worst mistake I’ve seen so many people make.”

He took another step back.

“You can trust me. I’m not out to hurt you or use you. In fact, I’ve rescued others, just like you, from far worse situations.”

“There are others?” the words were out of his mouth before he could even think to hold them back.

“Yes. We’re a small population compared to the rest of the entire world, but there are at least several hundred, maybe even several thousand. Each one has different abilities, like you and me. And about yours, if I can hear your thoughts, there’s a good chance it should be able to go the other way. I wouldn’t mind if you could listen in on my thoughts. Especially if it’ll help you to trust me.”

“Where did you come from?”

Lilith stopped moving. Her chest wasn’t rising and falling with the same regularity it had been a moment before. She looked away from him with an immediacy that quickly had him on edge.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

What had he said that was so wrong? He backed up another step. The back of his knees hit the edge of a plush chair and he fell into it.

She blinked, but still refused to look at him. “You’re lucky. You didn’t come from the same place.”

Her legs, clad in similar dark pants to those she’d worn when they’d first met, carried her slowly across the floor to the other plush chair. She sat down, hands clasped in her lap. Her eyes clouded over as if she was no longer in the brightly lit hovel but in some darker place she wanted to run away from. Horrors he had never known crossed in front of her face before she returned to the present, focusing on him instead of her memories.

“Most parents consider their children innocent,” she began, sounding as if she still wasn’t completely in the room with him. “They know how to play and have fun. They haven’t been subjected to torture and hard work. They haven’t been forced to watch family and friends violently punished for something they did wrong. I know you’ve been through a lot, but considering what the people have gone through that I know...” Her eyes contained a sharp edge as they met his. “...I consider you innocent.”

She was silent after that and Morgan hesitated to remind her of his question. In the end, he didn’t.

“Show me how to play chess,” she suggested, nodding her head toward the board between them.

He looked from her to the chess pieces lined up in perfect rows and then back to her. Her eyebrows knit together in concentration and she didn’t lift her eyes to meet his.

Morgan’s hands had been much smaller the last time he’d played the game, grasping onto the pieces with all five fingers. Elbert Finias pointed toward a square, and he set the pawn down.

“See Morgan, this piece is only allowed to move in these directions,” the older man with naturally dark skin and white hair ran his fingers down the paths the piece could take in its journey to the other side of the board.

Morgan sat at the large table, having to stand on his chair whenever it came his turn to move the pieces.

“Well?” Lilith’s voice broke into his thoughts, bringing him to find her still watching the board.

He slowly leaned forward and paused, his right hand in midair, hovering over a pawn.

“This piece can only move in these directions,” he said, his voice low and quiet as he moved his hands in the same pattern Elbert had so many years ago.

His hand then hovered over another piece directly behind the pawn. The knight. He showed her its directional paths and then moved to the next one over.

“Where did you learn to play?” she asked, color flushing her cheeks as she finally brought her face up out of her lap.

It couldn’t hurt to tell her the truth. Could it? What was it but a small snippet from the past. There was not much linking it to the future or the now, except that he’d learned to play chess. Nothing connecting it to anything else could cause him any harm. Or his mother. Right?

“My mother and I lived in a rooming house once. A long time ago. There was an older man there who taught me how to play.”

Leaving out the man’s name would ensure that no harm came to him.

“What happened?”

What? He was both startled and confused by the question.

“What happened to cause you to live on the streets without her?”

He tore his eyes from her face and found the floor. “She died.”

Silence filled the room and, sitting on the side of the white characters, he made the first official move on the chess board. She followed his pawn and moved her own to match his.

“She was found out,” he whispered. “Humans saw her wings. They killed her for them.”

One knight killed a pawn, knocking it to the ground and sweeping into it’s place.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It was ten years ago. It’s too late for that now. Besides, none of us can live forever. We have to die at some point in time.”