Chapter 4; Thomas

The young woman lay shivering and terrified in front of me. I must have been feeling sympathetic to my brother's ridiculous sense of chivalry, because when her all-too-human eyes shed a tear that rolled down her cheek, picking up semi-dried blood on the tracks tears had travelled before, I instinctively grabbed her wrist and harshly tugged her into his apartment. Chicago's finest tore down the street moments later, sirens wailing. She folded herself against my chest, which I had put between her and the door, blocking the only view of her. She watched with heated eyes and I with cold patience as the last of the police cars rolled past. We listened in silence as the sirens got farther away, then the apartment went quiet but for her ragged, pained breathing. She rested her face against my chest, sighed, and promptly lost consciousness.

I caught her before she hit the ground. Cautiously, I picked her up and went to find a blanket. I juggled her as gently as I could, avoiding her wings, and lay the blanket haphazardly on Harry's bed, then set her on her stomach, showing me where most of the blood came from. Two long gashes, puckered along the edges, crusted with a heavy amount of blood, ran parallel with her spine, one on either side, ending at the bases of her two wings. I mumbled streams of cuss words. What the hell had happened? I left to get a few essentials; a washcloth, a bowl of warm water, gauze, and Bob. I plunked him down on the nightstand next to her.

"What the hell, Bob?"

Lights flicked on and he squeaked as they fell on the young woman. They ran up and down, taking everything in, and then said, "I should ask the same thing. Why did you let her in?" he paused for a moment, then remarked "Hey! Her bra's cut off!"

I literally snarled at him. "The police were chasing her. She looked terrified, and I just… pulled her in. The police wouldn't know what to do with her." I took the washcloth and wet it in the water, then started mopping the blood off from around the wounds. "I don't either, but luckily, I have you. Now what is she, and what's she doing here?"

Bob watched me in silence for a few moments as the washcloth picked up the blood, revealing pale skin. I snapped my fingers with the other hand, and his eye lights left the girl.

"She looks like a Sylph, which is very possible. Sylphs have only one sex, female, and therefore have to reproduce with human males, creating changelings." He looked at her again, and said "that's probably what she is." He looked harder and said "the one thing I don't really understand is why she's only half-changed. It's like she's locked in a limbo between human and fae. Sylphs have razor claws to match those wings, but her hands are human. It could be a glamour, though. She's probably trying to kill Harry."

I frowned. "Don't changelings have odd-colored hair?" I remembered the photo of four changelings and an older man that clung to the refrigerator under a magnet.

"Not always. Remember Harry's godmother, the Leanansidhe? She has red hair, like some humans can."

The woman stirred, and then gasped. Her muscles tensed, and her wings twitched a little. "Hey, hey, calm down, it's ok!" I said quickly and calmly, putting my hand gently on her shoulder. Bob's lights winked out, but not before he got a good look at her bright blue eyes. Her human eyes. The lights flicked to me and extinguished. She breathed erratically for a few minutes, and drew her arms into her chest. Her wings drifted up and got almost vertical. They looked so…delicate. I held her without restraining her, and shushed her. "Sit still. I'm trying to clean your wounds. You're going to hurt yourself." She calmed down, turning her head to me, her eyes still bright, but not as scared anymore. I lay the hot washcloth on her back, almost finished with cleaning the blood off the wounds. Another drop fell on a clean section, dropping from her wings.

"Who are you? What happened?" I asked tentatively.

She shivered a moment, and then spoke softly. "My name is Amy Delrietta. And I don't know." She put such a frustrated stress on that last word. "I can only tell you some of it, but I can't explain it." She took a pained breath and continued.

"I was driving to my friend's house. She's having her baby shower, and I was so excited. I was changing lanes when another car rammed into mine. My car slid off the road and flipped into the ditch. I climbed out, but the car that hit me was gone. My car was trashed, and my cell phone was broken. There were woods on the side of the road, and I must have hit my head because I walked in without thinking about it." She shivered, and was quiet for a minute. I sat there and let her continue.

"I could hear the lake, so I walked towards the noise, but there was a man there, in the woods. He…he knew my name. He said to stand still, that he would help me." Tears started down her face again. "He came closer and said again to stand still. He reached into his pocket, I thought he was going to get his phone, but he pulled something yellow out, it looked like…like a tooth, or a fang. He said to stay still again, and I realized I couldn't move. He stabbed me with it," she choked on her words. "In my stomach. Then my back hurt, a lot. He kept telling me to hold still, but then I tried to fight him. It was like trying to move in jelly, but I hit him. I think it surprised him, because I didn't hit him hard, but I ran. My back hurt so badly, and running made it worse. Then I felt it start to bleed. It was like knifes trying to cut their way out of me. I was almost sick from it when I fell down a bluff to the lake shore. I just lay there, face down. Then I think I blacked out."

What the hell?

I pulled the layered gauze pads and the rolled gauze out. I lay the gauze pads on her wounds, pressing gently. She hissed in a breath but didn't move otherwise. They stuck somewhat to the wounds and I stood her up very, very gently. Harry's various wounds had given me practice in medical care, but I was no expert. She had to see a real doctor. All I could do was a temporary patch job. I unrolled the gauze to hold the pads on, and in doing this saw the rest of the injuries she had, like the stab wound in the lower left part of her abdomen. I tried to ignore the fact that to put the gauze on, she needed to remove her ripped clothing, including her bra, but I cleaned and wrapped her anyway.

"Is this too tight?" I asked as I finished. She shook her head, and something in her eyes told me her story wasn't done. I paused and watched her face for a moment.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me? As long as we're on a roll?" A huge tear slid down as her face soured, like she was going to be sick.

"Amy?" I prodded, but before I could continue, she spat the ending to the story.

"I killed those men on the beach."