Fan Fiction ❯ Eadoin ❯ Burning Heat ( Chapter 3 )

Eadoin

Chapter Three - Burning Heat

Heat. I could feel the heat surrounding me, burning me, scorching my skin, causing me to cry out wordlessly in pain. I tried to move, but the heat was overbearing and licked against my arms, against my legs, a deadly embrace with my skin, roasting my body. An unbearable heat that I couldn't escape: couldn't identify. I couldn't see anything; my head was spinning, waves and waves of nausea flowing through my body, my stomach clenching, unconscious tears running down my face.

A fire? No. I was choking painfully but there was no smoke, no flames. The heat was moving, embracing, long burning fingers running down my arms, my chest, across my cheeks, burning my skin, and I screamed.

A person? The heat, it had a form. A body made from intense and burning warmth, but I couldn't see anything but red, couldn't feel anything but the adrenaline pouring through my body, my muscles trembling painfully, bile rising in my throat.

"Shhh." Such a deep voice, deadly but seductive. Then I felt lips against my own, so soft, but hot and unwelcome. Burning my lips, burning my tongue, scorching my mouth but I couldn't even scream . . .

*

"Eadoin!"

I was jerked back into reality so quickly that for a long moment everything was jumbled. My heart was pounding so furiously it was painful, the feeling of nausea remained, my stomach muscles constricting painfully. I put a hand to my chest, realised I was sweating, sobbed suddenly as a release. My cheeks were wet and I hated it. I hated it so much.

"Eadoin?" I realised that I was shaking, and I turned slightly, so lost and confused, and saw a beautiful creature before me. A boy with moonlight hair and silver wings. Oh yes, Idande, the lost angel. It scared me that for a moment I couldn't remember him. Couldn't remember his sweet and innocent face. Now he looked at me with such concern it hurt me to see.

But I was still panting slightly, still shaking, confused, sobbing gently. For a moment I remembered . . . heat? My skin was burning slightly, as if I had fever, heat radiating from my arms, my legs, my face, my . . . my lips? Unconsciously I placed fingertips on my lips, felt the heat, fresh tears threatening. "I feel like I've forgotten something important," I breathed, my voice breaking.

"Are you all right?" Idande asked, concerned. I suddenly realised that I was lying on my bed, and Idande was sitting beside me. Slowly, so slowly, he reached forward and placed a pale hand on mine, then moved his fingers up my body to my face, felt the sweat on my skin. I shivered as he frowned, his hand moving from my cheeks to my forehead. And then his fingertips rested gently on my bottom lip.

"You're hot," he murmured, suddenly cupping my face in his hands. "What did you see, Eadoin?"

I tried to remember, but everything faded away and the more I struggled desperately to recall any words, any images, the quicker they left. "I . . . I don't remember. I think I saw something, but I don't remember it." Everything was too confusing, so painful. And then suddenly the feeling of nausea passed, the shaking died down and I was sitting on my bed with Idande running fingers down my face, and I couldn't help but blush.

"Aah, you're all red!" he exclaimed suddenly.

I choked. "Uh . . . yeah, but don't worry. It's normal," I tried to explain, feeling the blush deepen. Okay, calm down and pull yourself together. And then I wondered why exactly I was on my bed with Idande watching over me. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?" he asked gently. "You . . . you had some kind of attack and then you fainted. Kit was really worried. And . . . I was too. He carried you in here and left to talk to 'the professor.' I wanted to stay."

I almost laughed when Idande mentioned 'the professor' like our science teacher was some kind of mystical object, but then I realised what he had said. Me? An attack? I couldn't understand; I'd never had one before, and the very idea made me feel sick. I think I made a strange face, cos suddenly Idande was chuckling.

"You remind me of my father," he said with a smile. "You know, once when I was thirteen we -"

"My name's Ande Winters." He's becoming someone else. Why can't he remember? He told me he didn't want to forget.

"It's a nice story," I murmured, interrupting him gently, "but it's not true. You don't have a father and I doubt if you did anything with him when you were thirteen, since you've only been on Earth for two days."

"Slowly I forgot a few things. I knew where I came from, now I just have an aching in my chest like I've lost something."

My eyes closed I began to rub my temples with my fingers, and silence descended. For a long time I concentrated on the confusion inside of me, then realised the quietness was unnerving. Concerned, I opened my eyes and saw Idande holding his legs against his body, his face turned away, eyes narrowed and biting his bottom lip forcefully. He looked grieved, as if he was going to cry.

Sure enough crystal tears slowly ran down his pale cheeks and with a small cry I fell forward and loosely enveloped him in an embrace. "What's wrong?" I asked. I've always been a truthful person, but I sometimes forget how hurtful my bluntness can be.

He shook slightly, refusing to face me. "I don't understand you," he sobbed. "Why do you keep saying things like that? Of course I have a father, I remember him. I have a life, Eadoin. I remember it all. What's with this 'coming to Earth' crap? I thought you were supposed to be my friend!"

"I am!" I cried almost desperately. Idande was still shaking, and I wanted to comfort him but I'm no good at lying. "Idan . . . um, Ande, what does your father look like?"

He froze for just a split second, but I felt it. He didn't know. He didn't know the answer. As if reassuring my suspicions he suddenly burst into sobs, and there was grief in my heart too. My loose embrace was replaced with an almost fierce one as I held Idande close to me, letting him cry against my shirt.

"I'm so confused," he murmured. "I know I have a father, and a family. I go to school; I'm good at English but bad at Maths. I can't take alcohol even if I try. And I know it's all true, but sometimes, when I'm asleep, I remember a warm place with light and mist and I feel happy. And when I wake up I feel like I've . . ."

"Like you've lost something?" I asked, still holding him, feeling his tears wet my shirt. He nodded, wrapping his own arms around my shoulders.

"Yes," he murmured. "Such an unbearable pain in my chest."

I knew what was happening. Slowly, day-by-day, Idande was losing his memories and becoming human. He had a human name, hobbies, memories, none of which were true. And he thought himself a human too. He couldn't even see or feel his own wings.

His wings. A thought struck me and my breath caught in my throat. I looked over Idande's shoulder and saw the spears of light, only . . . Only they were much smaller than usual, and defiantly dimmer, as if they were fading away. Oh God. Just knowing that Idande was hurting, that his wings were going to disappear and he would be human, caused my eyes to fill with tears.

Idande's sobs had died down and now the boy was resting gently against my chest. Unconsciously I was running my fingers through the silver strands of his hair, watching and seeing nothing, simply thinking. And then I remembered Leilani, the girl who came here with him. Idande said that if he and Leilani found each other, he'd remember everything, but I couldn't help wonder whether she was sharing the same fate, an ethereal angel doomed to become human unless someone found her. She must have been as lost and alone as Idande.

And as Idande's wings began to fade, I took it upon myself to find her.

*

He's becoming human.

I was walking down the street, my hands hidden deeply within the pockets of my jeans, head lowered as my dark hair blew wildly in the wind. It was an overcast day, the light hidden behind grey clouds that smothered the sky and threatened to rain. But the dimness of the day was nothing compared to the turmoil inside me.

Idande's going to just forget everything.

It seemed too cruel. Idande was an ethereal creature, sent to Earth for a reason, but he was being threatened, tainted, and it seemed as if the only person who could help him was me; the only one who knew what he truly was. Was it fate? Perhaps. If Leilani didn't know who she was, then I was the only person who could even find her. So here I was, walking down the street, searching everywhere for the lost angel.

Heat. I could feel the heat surrounding me, burning me, scorching my skin, causing me to cry out wordlessly in pain.

Huh? I visibly flinched, cried out. The heat had engulfed me for a moment, but now . . . now I couldn't understand what had happened. I was standing in the middle of the street, wind whipping around me, numbing my skin. No, there was no way. But I must have cried out loud because a couple of old women and some young children were looking at me like I was insane.

A hot flush? God, you have to be old to have those, and I'm only nineteen. Maybe I was just hallucinating. Still, that's not good either. Maybe it was a side effect of the attack I had earlier.

I tried to move, but the heat was overbearing and licked against my arms, against my legs, a deadly embrace with my skin, roasting my body.

"No!" I shouted, my voice raw, my heart pounding. I blinked, realised once again that I was standing in the street, now more and more people staring at me like I was drunk. Blushing furiously I lowered my head and jogged away. What on Earth was happening? Was that . . . was that a vision or something? It seemed fairly familiar, but I couldn't understand. Maybe I was coming down with the flu. In summer?

I couldn't see anything; my head was spinning, waves and waves of nausea flowing through my body, my stomach clenching, unconscious tears running down my face.

Oh God. I suddenly felt unbearably sick, and I knew it wasn't a good idea to leave the house so soon after what happened. I heaved, stumbled forward and found a bench almost covered entirely by pigeons, but that didn't matter. I just had to . . . Uh, I retched again, put a hand to my stomach, panted, panted, breathed, closed my eyes and tried to fight the unexplainable nausea.

People watched, stared, but walked past and said nothing. I pulled my legs up onto the wood, cradled them against my body, rocking slightly like a child. What's happening? I didn't understand. And then the nausea slowly died away. Relief flooded through me, sweet and calming. But an eerie feeling remained.

I could sense it. Something was nearby, something that I knew no one else could see. A spirit perhaps, but to cause such a reaction? I looked up and saw the streets strangely empty. No mothers with pushchairs, no groups of students, no laughing children. The silence sent a shiver through my body, but a heat remained, radiating from my skin.

And then I saw him. A boy, I thought, but probably older than me. He was so casually sitting on the marble edge of a fountain, his legs straight against the ledge, his arms behind him to support the weight. Tall and slender, he wore only what looked like a pair of leather trousers that clung like a second skin.

My breath in my throat I raised my eyes, looked at his face. From his profile I knew he was beautiful, but slightly more rugged than Idande. His skin was tanned, his lips pulled into a strange smirk. His hair fell across his eyes, midnight black but shone almost indigo. And his eyes were liquid gold: amber.

My heart was pounding so hard, cos when I looked at him, I just thought: heat. He seemed to radiate warmth, burning heat, scorching pain. With a small confused sob I turned and saw that from his bare back protruded two great wings, real wings that spread through the air, shining almost like leather. Deep black, not feathers or even light, but like bat's wings. Powerful.

A person? The heat, it had a form. A body made from intense and burning warmth.

"Oh God," I choked, my body suddenly so heavy. I had little control, the fire engulfing my body, sending me sliding to the floor, a puddle on the concrete. What was happening here? First Idande appears, and now this man? This smug, confident man who put me in mind of a demon. The angel and the demon? Was I in danger? Were the strange visions I was having actually a warning against this man?

I watched for a moment in complete disbelief as his indigo hair blew gently in the wind. Yes, he was real. And even though I was burning up I knew I had to get away. I tried to pull myself up, but when I shifted to move my whole body cried out in protect. Aching muscles, heat, pain, dizziness. Wave after wave of nausea. I cried out in agony, my eyes squeezed shut.

When I opened them again he was watching me coolly, and an unexplainable fear spread through my body. I felt vulnerable and exposed, I couldn't even move, and now this demon was looking at me, and only I could see his wings. He continued to look at me almost in curiosity, and I struggled hard to act as if sitting on the floor surrounded by pigeons was a normal thing to be doing.

"You look as if you see something about me that you don't like." That voice, unfamiliar, deep, almost condescending. I realised it came from him. He was waiting for an answer, but I didn't know what to say.

"I . . . I . . ." Quickly I raised a hand to my forehead and felt the heat. I really was burning up. My vision split suddenly and I groaned, watched in horror as two demons appeared to be making their way towards me.

He bent down beside me, looked at me with amber eyes as if I was something distasteful. "Hmmm, you're burning up," he said casually. "You couldn't be . . . reacting to me, could you? No, that's impossible. You're just a human."

I watched the beauty, saw the wings exploding from his back as if they were natural. But he saw this; saw me looking at his wings. "Oh no," he sighed gently. "This can't be. Don't tell me that you can see my wings!"

"All right," I breathed. "I won't tell you." I was leaning against the bench now, this creature kneeling beside me, watching me intently.

"You can?" he questioned, sounding fairly intrigued. "You can really see them? What are you?" He leant forward slightly, his hand hovering over my forehead so that I could sense it there, but he didn't touch my skin. "I can feel something radiating from you. Something powerful."

I just watched him, confused, aching and struggling hard to breathe, feeling wrong. Was this really a reaction to him? I didn't know. Then suddenly he leant forward, placed a hand to my cheek and kissed me.

Then I felt lips against my own, so soft, but hot and unwelcome. Burning my lips, burning my tongue, scorching my mouth but I couldn't even scream . . .

It hurt. His kiss was burning my lips, but I didn't even have the strength to push him away. I felt the heat radiating from his hand, from his lips, from his whole body, and my skin was burning under his touch. I tried to struggle, tried to scream.

He broke away. I gasped in huge lungfuls of air greedily, immediately brought my hand to my face, felt the heat, the almost plastic feel of burnt skin. I swallowed, fearful, turned and saw him watching me with realisation and yet disbelief in his eyes, fingers on his own lips.

"I can taste the power on you," he breathed. "It's you. I can't believe it's you. That's why I'm here. The power, it pulled me here, attracted me here, like a magnet. They want it. They all want it."

"What . . . what are you . . . talking about?" I panted, confused. Who was this guy? A demon? A real demon whose touch burnt human flesh? "Who are you?"

He looked shocked for a moment, then grinned, his golden eyes flashing almost dangerously. "My name is Marcell," he said proudly. "It means 'warlike.'"

"That's nice," I said sarcastically, struggling to bring my breathing under control. But Marcell, the warlike one, was leaning forward again to kiss me and I cried out, cos he was going to burn my skin clear away if he kept doing that, and I had no desire to die a painful death today. "Stop!" I cried, but he kept coming.

"What's going on here?" A different voice, a beautiful feminine voice, and even though I didn't know who it was I was suddenly grateful. Marcell, confused and annoyed, pulled away suddenly and she filled my vision. A girl, beautiful and breathtaking despite the look of anger on her face. Hair the palest of silver tied loosely with a white ribbon fell gently down her back, across her face, almost hiding her eyes. Sky blue, so pale, the colour of winter icy skies. Her skin was pale too, but her slight blush gave her colour.

And the most welcome sight of all was the fact that this beautiful girl had wings of pure silver light. It was Leilani; it had to be. If her colouring meant nothing, then the wings were a dead give away.

I think Marcell knew this. He could see the wings too, could see the ethereal beauty and power of an angel, and he either disliked it or was intimidated. With a small snarl he jumped into the air and flapped his wings, so powerful, a gust of air blowing harshly against me, and then with little effort he seemed to lift into the air, his wings pounding, wrapping around his body, and he was gone.

I sighed in relief, and turned to my saviour, only to realise too late that a pain was spreading through my lungs. I couldn't breathe, couldn't find the ability, and with a choked gasp I was tugged violently into darkness.

*

A river of blood. A carpet of bones. Screaming, shouting, wailing, crying, noises of horror, disbelief and pain filled the air in a horrific cacophony. I could hear every cry, I could see every injured child cry out for mercy denied to them. Another body, rotting, clawing towards the light, finding nothing but the darkness. Hopes dashed, dreams buried, only survival, survival, survival on their minds.

Some cried for death, and death was denied. The stench was overpowering, tears in my eyes. Buildings painted in blood, smoke clinging to the air, retching, coughing, choking, gagging, suffocating slowly, so slowly. And there was a figure standing, watching it all, laughing and laughing, his head thrown back as the unnatural sound filled the air. A man with indigo hair, with golden eyes. Stumble, fall, stagger, and he looks at me and says, "It's all your fault."

*

"Are you all right?"

The voice, slightly familiar. A . . . a woman's voice? I blinked, sat up quickly, looked around me, saw through heavy lidded eyes silver hair and blue eyes. "Idande?" I questioned. But no, the eyes were too pale, the hair too long. I rubbed my eyes, trying to focus, to wipe away the fogginess, and saw her beautiful face. "Ah," I breathed in relief. "Leilani."

She frowned, looked confused. "I'm sorry," she said, "I think you're confusing me with someone else. My name's Lani Winters, not Leilani. But, are you all right? You seemed to have a nasty attack. Are you asthmatic? Do you need to see a doctor?"

"Huh? Oh no, no, I'm fine." I looked at the girl, saw her wings, realised that they, like Idande's, were dimming and slowly fading away. And she called herself Lani Winters, so she was losing her memories and becoming human. Only, she had used the same surname as Idande. Winters. Maybe I was too late, but hopefully their reunion would bring their memories back. "Please," I said, taking her hand gently, "please, could you help me back to my apartment?"

Her eyes widened in shock, I think I scared her, but after a long moment of contemplation she nodded her head, silver hair blowing angelically. "I suppose so," she murmured, "since you're hurt."

"Thank you," I breathed. Unconsciously I placed a hand to the raw skin of my cheek, to my stinging lips, remembering the deadly kiss. It was the first time I encountered one of the others, but it wasn't the last.

~TBC~