The air was bitingly cold and the wind was whipping at Elliot's face. He was running, his feet slapping against the pavement, the distant sound of sirens ringing in his ears. Tears were streaming down his dirty face, leaving tracks in the grime. He just couldn't comprehend what had happened, all he knew was that he had to keep running. His lungs were on fire and his legs were screaming, the pain in his back getting worse with each slam of his running feet. The noise of cars and people all around him was pounding in his ears, New York never slept. He slowed his pace, and Elliot became aware of the fact that he had no idea where he was, he had never been to this part of the city before. The buildings were old and dirty, as were the people. There were women slouched against walls with cigarettes in their mouths and stilettos on their feet. The men were drunkenly stalking the women, bottles in their filthy hands. Elliot ducked into the nearest alley and tried to catch his breath. The smell of rotting garbage burning his nose and stinging his eyes. The sound of approaching footsteps made Elliot realize that he was not alone in the alley. He looked towards the noise and saw four or five men stalking towards him. They were leather clad and covered in tattoos. The tallest of the men was in the middle, and he held a long metal bar in his callused hand. Elliot saw that some of the others were adorned with brass knuckles and heavy gold rings. The hairs on the back of Elliot's neck were prickling and his hands began to shake slightly. "Well, well, boys," the tallest one said with a laugh, his voice low and gravely, " what do we have here? Looks like some little rich boy's been running away." The group was laughing and approaching at a steady pace. Elliot was terrified, he had never imagined anything like this could happen, not in real life, not now. The group had him cornered in the end of the alley and Elliot was beginning to panic. "Well kid," said the man, "how much have you got on ya?"
"N-nothing," Elliot replied, his voice shaking, "I d-don't h-have anything."
The tall man laughed as another, short and stocky, pulled out a knife. "Now, now," said the man with the crowbar, "let's not lie to each other, what about that pretty necklace 'round your scrawny neck? Would you like me to cut it off for you?"
Elliot grasped the necklace and turned the ring that hung there in his fingers. " I can't give you this, it was my mum's"
The group laughed and the man with the knife moved closer. Elliot turned to run, but was caught up by a tall, bald man, who tried to put Elliot's arms behind his back. With a yell the man let Elliot go, flailing his arms about, his eyes so wide with shock they were nearly popping out of his grimy face. The pain in Elliot's shoulder blades was excruciating, his skin was splitting, the bones cracking, the muscles snapping with strain. He arched his back and screamed, the men around him yelling in confusion. There was a loud tearing sound and Elliot dropped to his knees, his already torn shirt, coming off completely. The pain was so intense he was seeing dark spots in his vision.
"What the hell is this kid!?" Elliot heard one of the men shout.
"Kill it!" shouted another.
There was shuffling around him and Elliot heard the click of a gun, he looked up to see the tallest man with a pistol in his shaking hand, pointed at Elliot's head. He would have welcomed death, death was surely better than the horror and pain of this night. As he was thinking it, he felt his back lift and something dark and heavy surround him. Soft brown walls came down, cradling him. The man was shooting his gun now, Elliot could hear the loud bangs and clicks as the man pulled the trigger again and again, yet Elliot remained untouched. He was so exhausted, sweat was pouring down his face, his blond hair sticking to his neck. The pain in his back was beginning to subside, as if his skin was knitting back together. The walls around him began to rise, shifting and moving weirdly. Elliot was kneeling, exposed in the back of the alley. The men were blundering away, yelling in rough, harsh voices about Satan and demons.
Elliot stood up, slowly, his knees trembling. Shakily, he looked at his back and screamed. Two enormous wings were protruding between his shoulder blades for the second time that night, soft and brown, and nearly touching the ground. Elliot stood in shock in the garbage strewn alley, the dark spots in his eyes overcoming him.
Chapter One
Jane was running late and she really did not have time for this, "please, just put your pants on." Her little brother, Turner, was standing in front of her, his arms crossed and glaring stubbornly at the pair of pants in her hand.
"I don't see the point in pants," he argued.
Jane sighed impatiently, "If you don't put your pants on right now, I will have to leave you here and you'll have to go to school all alone." Turner mumbled something about not seeing the point in school either. Jane had had enough, she stood up and grabbed Turner by the arm, pulling him towards his bedroom.
"Hey!" he shouted indignantly, "let me go! I'm not a baby, I can walk by myself."
"Then stop acting like a baby and i'll stop treating you like one!" Jane countered. Turner pulled out of her grip, snatched the pair of blue jeans, and stalked off to his room. Jane looked at the clock, it was 8:15 already. She'd needed to be out the door five minutes ago. "Turner, you have to hurry up," she pleaded, " I'm going to be so late!" Turner came out of his room, blue jeans on, a Spider-Man t-shirt on his thin shoulders and a defeated look on his face.
"Alright I'm ready," he mumbled. Jane handed him his coat, then pulled on her own. It was blue, her favourite colour, it had just arrived yesterday from Paris where her father was working. He often sent back gifts from his travels, Turner had gotten a new watch which, Jane noted, was much too big for his thin wrist. Jane ushered her little brother out of the apartment and locked the door.
They had to run to the station, Jane could not be late today, she had already been late three times this week alone. Turner was gripping her hand tightly, he hated public transportation, it made him nervous. Jane wasn't sure why, when she had been that age, she couldn't wait to get out in the world. She could remember walking down the street from Grand Central station when she was only ten years old, to go to the library. It was the first trip she had taken alone, her mother had just died and her father had had to leave them with a nanny so he could continue to work abroad, alone in his grief. She hadn't told her nanny where she was going, but she'd needed to escape. Her mother had loved books and had taken Jane to the library many times before, but Jane remembered the feeling of adventure and rebellion as she snuck down the fire escape to the train station. The train came to a sudden stop in front of them, awaking Jane out of her reverie, the doors slid open and people spilled out. Jane hated New York for this reason, there were so many people, but no matter how many people were around her she still felt alone. She pulled Turner though the open doors of the train, fighting through the crowd to get inside and found a vacant pole to hold as the train pulled forwards. She watched the lights from the tunnel blur into a line outside of the window. The slight jockeying of the train was soothing, but the train was much too crowded for her taste. Distantly she heard Turner babbling on about one of his classmates, who had thrown a snowball at him, and how he was planning to get his revenge, but Jane wasn't really listening. She was staring out of the window, the blur of light memorizing. Five minutes had passed and the train was slowing to a stop, the line of light separating into blocks. Jane staggered a little as the train stopped, she looked down at her little brother, somewhat distracted by the blur of light burned into her eyes. He was tall for his age, making him look even more gangly, he had a mop of curly brown hair and dimples on his rosy cheeks. His eyes were the same blue-gray as her own, she'd never known how to describe them, if she'd had to, she would have said they were the colour of the winter sky as it was snowing. Turner pulled on her hand and they got off the train. Jane tightened her grip on his hand as she pulled him through the crowded station, pushing through the cluster of people. They climbed the cement steps and out into the sunshine. The wind was brisk and sharp, whipping blood into Jane's cheeks. The smell of garbage and gasoline in her nostrils. The smell of the city. They held hands as they walked down the block to Turner's elementary school. She released his hand and ruffled his curly hair
"See you later dork," she said with a grin. Turner smiled and pushed his hair back down,
"See ya' loser!" he laughed, turned and climbed the stairs to the building. Jane laughed to herself, then looked down at her watch, and swore, it was 8:37, she needed to be there at 9:00. She turned and started running towards the train station. She barrelled down the street, shoving through crowds of people, their shouts and complaints ringing in her ears, she sprinted around the corner and slammed into a boy who was running as well. The impact was so hard that she was thrown to the ground, the oxygen being forced out of her lungs. The boy was on the ground too, holding his head and groaning.
"Oh my gosh! Oh gosh I am so sorry!" she said, gasping in heaps of oxygen, struggling upright and running to him. Her jeans were torn and her knee was bleeding, but other than being winded, she was fine. The same could not be said for the boy on the ground. His shirt was covered in blood, Jane froze, her face going pale.
"Help me," the boy said, "I need to get out of here."
"You need a hospital," she began,
"No!" he said hurriedly, " I need to get off the street, take me somewhere they won't find me."
"Are you sure you can walk?" she said, his face was deathly pale and his blonde hair was in matted tangles over his face. Blood and dirt covered his hands.
"Yes, yes," he said impatiently, "we have to go now, please," his eyes met hers, they were startlingly green, the colour of evergreens in the summer. She nodded and put her arm around him, hoisted him upright, as started forwards. He groaned in pain, but started walking nonetheless. As they walked, he kept glancing over his shoulders, as if looking for something, but Jane didn't know what he was expecting, she hadn't called an ambulance. "We need to move faster," he said suddenly. Jane heard footsteps coming towards them, fast. She looked behind them and saw three boys running after them, they couldn't have been more than fifteen. They were stocky and short, their arms covered in strange green tattoos, leather boots covering their were moving so fast it looked as though they were not moving at all. Something was strange about how they moved, almost as if in complete unison. The boy Jane was supporting was panting now and looked at the others as if they were the devil. He suddenly grabbed Jane by the hand and dragged her into a nearby building.
"Hurry please," he gasped pulling her through the doors and towards the elevator.
"Where are we going!?" Jane said, pulling at her arm, trying to get free, but his grip was like iron.
"We need to get away before they get us," he said shoving her into the elevator. He slammed the top floor button several times. As the elevator doors were closing, Jane saw the three boys from the street rush into the building and head straight towards them. The doors slid closed and Jane felt a swoop in her stomach as the elevator pulled them upwards.
"What the hell is going on!?" she said angrily. She looked at the boy and saw that he was slouched in the corner, his hand at his side, and sweating profusely. His face was very pale and he looked too weak to even be standing. She rushed over to him, and tried to keep him upright. He put his head on her shoulder for a moment as he tried to catch his breath. The elevator rattled to a stop and the boy perked his head up, without a word he grabbed her hand again, pulled her out of the elevator, and started towards the staircase in the corner of the room. It led to the roof of the building. Luckily they only had one flight to climb, the boy could barely stagger up the few steps that there were. They reached the top landing and he pushed through the heavy metal door. They must have been nearly thirty stories up, the wind was like razors against Jane's skin. The boy was pulling her towards the edge of the building and Jane was getting seriously freaked out now. She started tugging at his grip on her arm, struggling to get away from the roof, he seemed not to notice.
"What are you doing? Let me go!" She yelled over the howling wind. He looked back at her and then he looked past her, his jaw tightening and his eyes hardening. He looked at her intensely.
"Listen to me, do not turn around, slowly put you hands around my neck and do not let go."
Something in his voice made her want to listen to him, and she resisted the urge to glance behind her. She stepped closer and slowly raised her arms and put them around his fevered neck. Her hands were trembling.
"You have to walk with me now and be prepared to wrap your legs around my waist". Jane was mortified. She had no idea what was going on, but the look in the boy's eyes made her afraid to let him go. "Trust me," he said, his low voice barely a whisper.
Numbly, she let her feet fall in tune with his. His eyes never left whatever was behind them, and hers never left his face. They were at the edge of the building now and Jane was shaking. She felt the boy's shirt move and rip beneath her fingertips. She grasped his neck tighter pulling her fingers away from his back. Two large bumps were growing between his shoulder blades, ripping through his clothes and skin. They were dark brown and feathered, and Jane felt a strong impulse to let go and run away. She felt nausea rise up in her throat as she watched his skin tear and the muscle and tendons snap. Blood was beginning to pour down his back, thick and scarlet. The boy seemed not to notice. As soon as it had started, it had stopped, Jane watched in fascination as his skin closed around the base of the protuberance from his back. He had wings, the biggest wings Jane had ever seen. They were enormous, brown, covered in silky feathers that whipped back and forth in the raging wind. Jane had a very strong urge to let go and run away, but then the boy whispered in her ear, "whatever you do, do not let go of me."
He swung them around fast and Jane heard a roar. She looked past his shoulder and saw that the three boys were racing towards them, changing with every step. Their arms elongating and dragging on the ground, fangs dripping from their mouths and their skin bubbling into a leathery green flesh. The leather boots melting into their green legs. Jane screamed as the boy shouted something at her. In the next moment, he jumped off the building. Jane's legs instinctively went around his slender waist. His wings expanded and Jane felt the wind catch them. Her stomach pressed against his, she could feel his warm blood seeping into her shirt. She willed herself not to look down. Her hands were becoming sweaty and she was screaming louder than ever. The boy flew over the city faster than any jet she had ever seen, gliding and flapping his huge wings. Jane couldn't resist anymore, she looked down. New York was a beautiful city on it's own, but from the air, it was memorizing. The roads etched across the city fit the whole thing together like a puzzle. It was like looking down at the sky, the lights were the stars and the buildings like clouds. She could see Central Park and the Empire State Building. Jane could see gardens on the rooftops and cars speeding in the street. She realized the boy was trying to ask her something, but she couldn't hear him over the rushing wind and the flapping of his wings. She was holding him so tightly she couldn't feel her hands, but perhaps that had something to do with the bitter cold in the air. The wind was cutting thin lines of ice all over her body. The boy was the only warmth she felt, he was feverish and hot. His warm blood was seeping slowly into her coat and staining her shirt. The boy was shouting again.
She shook her head to signal that she hadn't understood him. He flew closer to a building, swooped down and landed. Jane let him go and stood dizzily, trying to regain her balance, the world spinning alarmingly fast. The boy was panting and groaning, clutching at his side.
"Where," he gasped, "where do you live? We need to get off of the streets, they'll be back."
Jane's head was reeling, should she help this boy? She didn't even know him. She didn't even know what he was. She did know he was wounded, badly, the dark stain growing larger and larger. He looked as though he would faint at any moment. She also did not want to look at those, those things again. The boy started to stoop a little, Jane rushed over to him, helping him stay upright and, feeling as though she were going against her better judgement, she told him the building's address.
"Will you be able to make it?" She asked, staring at the red stain that was slowly getting larger.
"If I fly," he said quietly, " I can't do it on foot, it will take too long."
She moved her attention to his wings, they were so long they were brushing the rooftop. She felt dizzy, what was he? Why is this happening? And to her? Jane had always thought she was the most boring person in the world. She was an aspiring nurse and a waitress to boot, she had reread every book in the house at least five times, not to mention all of her favourite library books, even her appearance was boring. She had mid-length dull blonde hair, a plain, angular face and slightly crooked teeth. There was a light dusting of freckles on her high cheekbones and nose. Her skin was pale from staying inside so often. Things like this simply did not happen to her, things like this happened to superheroes, like the ones in Turners comic books. She was no Lois Lane, or an Amazon princess, she was ordinary. The boy was staring down at her, one eyebrow raised.
"Well," he said, she noticed a flash of silver around his neck and saw a thin chain dangling there, "are you ready now?"
Jane looked into his green eyes, they dialated, and she nodded. She slipped her hands around his neck and took a step closer to him, feeling more dazed and confused than ever. Why had she said yes? Why had she told him where she lived? Wasn't that one of the the most elementary rules of meeting strangers? "Never tell a stranger where you live," but Jane couldn't recall anybody saying, "Never let a strange boy fly you over the city to get away from evil green teenagers." She must have been in shock, or maybe, this boy had some weird fairy voodoo he was pulling on her. The boy turned them around again,pulling Jane with him so her back was facing the open air, he slipped his hands around her back, pulling her tightly into him. She gasped a little, not expecting the movement. She watched as his wings expanded, they seemed even longer now, easily the length of a full grown man on both sides. In a way, they were beautiful, the dark brown feathers rustling gently in the wind, the graceful curve to the top, narrowing into a soft point. His grip tightened as he leaned forward and they began to fall, James legs wrapping around his waist again. His wings began to flap and Jane was surprised she wasn't screaming. Her hands were clasped around his neck so tightly she was losing feeling, but the boy didn't appear to notice. His eyes were searching the ground, looking for her building. It was freezing in the open air, it didn't help that they flying were faster and faster by the minute, the flapping of his wings steadying into a glide, Jane gripped him tighter. The air was ice and it was whipping Jane's hair into knots, her blone hair flying all around her face, and into the boys. One of his hands let go of her back and brushed it away impatiently. He seemed to have spotted her building because they were declining rapidly. He levelled out and steered towards the rooftop. They landed a little less gracefully than the last time, but Jane was just happy to have landed. She let him go and almost immediately had to hold him up again. His eyelids were slipping closed and his breath was faint.
" Inside," he was mumbling,"inside please, they'll smell me, I'm bleeding."
Jane blanched but set her arm under his armpits. She half dragged half carried him down the steps of her rooftop garden, which in all fairness wasn't much of a garden anymore. After her mother had died, nobody had been successful in keeping her mother's beautiful lilies and roses alive. Finally, Jane was able to drag him down the hatch, and into her living room. She was sweating quite a lot now, her breathing heavy. She pulled him onto the sofa, his body almost completely limp now. He was on his back and his eyes were shut tightly. Her mind was screaming for her to call an ambulance, but she doubted they would know what to do with a winged boy. She didn't know either, but she recalled her many hours of first aid training during school as well as her nursing classes. She lifted his shirt where the blood was the darkest, it was difficult as the shirt was sticking to his stomach with blood. There was something shiny embedded in his skin, a bullet perhaps, but that's not what frightened Jane, it was the blackness surrounding it, as if it were poisoning him. Dark lines were oozing black liquid though his body. She ran out of the room and to the closet, grabbing her first aid kit and other tools, needles and threads for stitches, disinfectants and scissors. She raced towards him, he hadn't moved at all, and his breath was even shorter now. She opened her kit, it was quite a good one, industrial, the kind they would have in ambulances, and pulled out gauze and a pair of big metal tweezers. She lifted his shirt again, looked at his wound and took out her pair of scissors. The shirt was already torn down the back and it was wet and heavy with blood as she sheared it off. Her jaw set, she set the tweezers to work, pulling on the piece of metal, slowly and steadily, coaxing it out of his flesh. The boy was groaning,his eyes hadn't opened but his teeth were gritted into a grimace of pain. The piece of metal was longer than it seemed, and it was not a bullet as she had first thought, it looked like the tip of an arrow. Long but thick, and made of a dark grey metal. With a scream of agony from the boy, Jane finally pulled the metal free, quickly placing the gauze over the wound, applying a steady hard pressure. The boy had gone limp and Jane, with her free hand, took his wrist and felt for his pulse. It was there, stronger than she'd thought it would be, she supposed this was a good thing. Letting go of his wrist, Jane reached for the disinfectant. Grabbing it she got ready to apply to his wound but when she looked at the gauze, there wasn't nearly as much blood as there should have been. Jane lifted the gauze and gasped in shock. His wound was almost gone, the last few bits of skin knitting themselves back together. The only evidence left that there had even been a wound were the smears of blood, and a faint white scar where the arrow had been.
Chapter Two
Elliot was flying. Soaring through the clouds, his face wet with the moisture of them. The ground below was a field of flowers, bright patches of yellow and red, but the most vibrant colour was blue. The colour of the snowing sky. Elliot dropped down for a closer look. The colour was so beautiful, so deep. His feet touched the ground, it was soft, like a pillow. He padded towards the blue flowers, the smell of honey all around him. When he got near enough he noticed that the blue he had thought were flowers were actually a pair of eyes. A girl was sitting in the middle of the field, cross legged, wearing a white dress that would have gone to her ankles had she been standing. Her hair was golden and shining in the warm sun. She waved her hand at him and gestured for him to come sit with her, Elliot was more than happy to oblige. She was beautiful, her smile warm and comforting. Her eyes were fixed on his, there was a sharp intelligence in those eyes, they were almost impossible to look away from.
"Who are you?" He asked, he wanted to know this girl so badly, she was so warm. Warm in a way that he felt that he would freeze without her there. She didn't reply but threw her head back and laughed, her laughter like music. She stood and started walking away from him. She began running, laughing and heading for the forest. Elliot raced after her, laughing too. He reached the forest and couldn't see her. He turned in a circle, searching for a glimpse of white or gold. Suddenly her laugh was cut off. Now a deep and evil laugh was echoing through the forest, no longer the honey-sweet voice. This voice was one Elliot knew well, this voice was like a thousand earthquakes, it brought death and misery wherever it was. The sky turned red and the trees around him began to die, whithering and cracking, their leaves rotting and branches snapping. Elliot began to run, looking frantically for the girl, terrified of the voice. He ran to around a willow tree, tall and with white bark, and saw her there. She was asleep, lying under the willows dying branches, as he neared her, her white dress began to turn scarlet, and blood was pooling around her lifeless body. The laughter was maniacal now, and Elliot turned to look at the tall man before him. Elliot couldn't see his face as it was shrouded by the long black cloak that covered the figure in front of him. Elliot felt his wings begin to flap as he lifted into the air and away from the man. The sky was hot and muggy, making it hard to fly. The man's laughter was growing louder in his ears and he tried desperately to fly away faster, hot tears streaking down his face. He heard the whoosh of an arrow, and a blinding pain pierced his side. Elliot screamed and fell from the sky.