Chapter Twenty-One

"This doesn't make sense," the words were tumbling out of my mouth, my thoughts too jumbled to make sense of. We were hurrying down several flights of stairs, the steps rounded stone that had been worn down with age and use. The ache in my side was starting to make its presence know once more. The skin at my ribs felt like it was tearing with each step down. The pain was still muted slightly, but it seemed Luke was very distracted at the present moment.

"What doesn't make sense, Elle?" Luke's arm was tight around my waist as he assisted me down each flight, visibly holding his speed in check so I could keep up. "Is it the fact that someone lied to you that I kidnapped your parents, or the fact that Patch, a fallen angel with immortal life, could be dead right now?"

I winced inwardly at that, my heart refusing to believe Patch could be dead. "Well...yes. Both. But also... I'm bewildered at your change of heart. Why are you helping me?" We had finally reached level ground. I barely had time to take in my surroundings before I was smuggled outside into the harsh, frigid morning. The sun was yet to rise. The sky was a watered down grey, everything was touched with shadows.

"That," Luke whipped his head around; searching, "is a very good question. But before I answer that, we need wheels- now." He sucked in his bottom lip, a frown creasing his forehead. "Wait here," he said, sitting me on the porch steps. With that he took off running, his figure disappearing around the corner of the building.

While he was gone, I had a chance to inspect the dwelling I had just escaped from. I craned my neck to take in the tall, narrow, run down structure. It was a house, or perhaps a small hotel, that had clearly been closed down for many years. Windows were boarded up, graffiti was scrawled across the bleak grey canvas that was the concrete walls. The small set of steps that lead to the dusty porch was cracked and weed ridden. I sighed as I leant against the dirty white pillar that held up the veranda. I was so exhausted, despite the number of times in the past 24 hours I had been unconscious. Both mentally and physically I was fatigued.

Luke had been gone for some time, and in his absence I noticed something else. I had run my fingers through my hair in a pointless attempt to tame the chaos when my fingers got caught in a particularly matted chunk of hair. My brows furrowed. It felt like the hair had been glued together. Then I remembered back at the Jeep. Glass shards, the slick road, blood. My blood, the dull aching that lanced along my skull. Gingerly, I felt along my skull, gasping when I pressed a tender spot. Proceeding with baited-breath caution, I touched the skin there with a feather like stroke. Along my skin was a thick ridge of thread...almost like someone had stitched me up. "Shit," I muttered, eyes wide, exhaustion forgotten.

At that moment Luke came jogging around the corner, something round and oddly shaped tucked under his arm. He was grinning despite himself. "Found us a ride," he called gleefully. "Hope you're strong enough to use your spider monkey skills."

"What?"

He disappeared again, though briefly. The next moment he was wheeling a sleek, silver motor bike around to the front of the building. It stood glossy and dangerous, the silver paint job bright even in the subdued dawn lighting. "Oh, God," I uttered, eyeing the monster.

"Come along," Luke cocked his head.

"Where did you get that thing?" I pulled myself up, using the pillar for support. Luke closed the distance between up, twirling the helmet around his hands. Carefully, he set the helmet atop my head, fastening the strap so that it fit snugly.

"Bo's Arcade. Pretty rough place, you wouldn't find many young girls hanging around there. But, fortunately there are plenty of bikies, which was very convenient for us tonight." He fit his hands onto either side of the helmet, where my face was trapped. His blue eyes caught mine, a visible confliction clashing in that ocean. "Are you hurting?"

To my surprise and shame, my eyes began to tear up. My throat ached with the brimming dismay that filled my eyes. "Hurting?" I choked out. I closed my eyes, trying to hide the tears from Luke, but the motion caused a traitorous tear to slip down my cheek. "Just a little." It was not only the physical pain that twinged across my whole body, but that continuous nagging of fear that Patch could be gone. My heart gave a panicked spasm and I whimpered. "Let's just go, please?"

Luke nodded, releasing me. He slid onto the bike with ease, running his hands over the smooth leather of the seat, across the handlebars. An appreciative smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. Me? I was a little less enthusiastic about the motorbike, but desperate times...

With blatant reluctance I climbed onto the large bike, wiggling around to get comfortable. I tried to keep some distance between Luke and myself, leaving less than 10cm between us. I looked down at my hands, wondering wildly where I was supposed to put them. "Around me would be a good place," Luke answered my unspoken question, "unless you want to go flying off the bike?"

With a huff I hesitantly wrapped my arms around his torso, waiting breathlessly for the roar of the engine. With the softest of chuckles, he let the bike snarled and shoot forward a couple of metres before he slammed on the breaks. The short burst of speed followed by the sharp stop eliminated the small space I had kept between us; it had caused me to slide forward so that my thighs were pressed onto the outsides of his and not a wisp of air could fit between us. I grumbled to myself, grasping onto the material of his shirt tighter as the bike finally set off.

Whooshing along the slick, grey road in morning twilight was terrifying. I spent most of the ride with my eyes squeezed shut and my face pressed into Luke's shoulder blade. Luke was obviously enjoying himself, the adrenaline making him gleeful and temporarily relieved from the tense situation we were in. The wind was like ice on my bare skin. It seeped through the holes in my tank top, chilling my skin. I felt frozen and dirty.

The bike came to a stop, the growl of the engine quieting. "Elle," Luke unwrapped my stiff arms from around his waist. "We're here."

I pried my eyes open, looking around myself to the empty, silent street. "What the...?"

The street was completely empty. There was no sign of Rixon or Patch, or the upturned Jeep Commander. The only evidence of the horror was the splinters of glass that sparkled along the asphalt and the dark patches of blood. Luke was inspecting every shard of glass, ever shadow; looking for something, anything to go by. Panic was rising up in my throat, my breathing was haggard. Patch, where was he? I stood by the bike, memories assailing my mind.

Luke had been the one to smash the car window into my head. Luke invaded my mind. If he hadn't stopped us, or even lured us back here, the animal- the...what had Luke called it? Ventor? Venay? Venator! That's it- wouldn't have found us. Patch wouldn't be missing, or possibly...dead. Hot, scorching anger filled my chest.

Luke, oblivious to my thoughts, was slowly making his way back to me, gazing at something in his hand. I was so furious I wanted to claw at my face, wanting to escape from this uncontrollable fury. "Look at this," Luke said at the exact moment I punched him in the jaw.

"Ow!" I shrieked, bending over my aching fist. "You freaking dickhead!"

Luke was staring at me bemusedly, watching me curse and massage my hand. "Why did you do that?" he wasn't offended or wounded, just curious. Red coloured my vision.

"This is all your fault!" I screamed at him. If I could never look into Patch's midnight eyes again, I don't know what I'd do. Luke's eyes, a sapphire blue, taunted me. "It's all you, I hate you." Ignoring the pain in my hand, I flew at him. I kicked and punched at every part of him I could reach, injuring myself more than him. His body was so hard, like I was punching a wall. Soon I couldn't see him through the blinding tears. "You've ruined everything, everything." With each word I sunk my knuckles into him, sobbing at the pain.

"Elle," he grabbed my wrists with one of his hands, holding them fast. "Really, you're hurting yourself more than you're hurting me."

"Let go of me," I cried, fruitlessly trying to twist out of his grip. "You've killed him, you've doomed us all. Go to hell!" I spat at the floor, tears of anger burning trails down my face.

"Elle, listen," he tried to meet my eyes, to get my attention. I snarled and thrashed to get away from him; his presence was making me deranged with anger. "Listen to me!" he demanded, jerking me roughly. I went still from shock at his sudden harshness. "I know I did some terrible things, but something is wrong here. Very wrong. I didn't feel... It was like someone else was controlling me. I- I don't know. But I've never felt like I did before, ever. It was like I was possessed with this outside rage. But- but now it's gone. Well, not gone exactly. But more like it's muted. Distracted? I'm in control now, and now I can see that whatever is happening right now is bigger than any of us. So if you please stop using me as a punching bag, I have something that will help us find Patch."

That sobered me up. "You mean...he's alive?" Hope blossomed in my chest.

"I never said that."

I felt my face fall.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "But look," he held his free palm out to me. It was a round, black disc, larger than the span of Luke's hand. As he tilted it from side to side it glimmered, catching the light of the early sun.

"What is it?" I asked dubiously.

"It's a scale," Luke looked at me. "From the front leg of the Venator. These only fall out when the scales have been ruffled or disturbed. Which could either mean that there was more of a struggle when we left, or someone climbed onto the beast for a joyride."

"But how could you even do that? Just merrily climb onto the monster and use it as a taxi?"

"How?" Luke raked a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up around his face. "Well, only the archangels have the power to order the Venator. You know how I said these circumstances may be bigger than just us?"

I nodded.

"I believe the archangels are involved. And they want Patch."

"No! Why? He didn't do anything," my voice bounced off the street.

"I can think of some crimes. And if I can, the archangels sure can." He narrowed his eyes down the road, distracted. After an unsure moment, the breath he'd been holding onto slithered out of the corners of his smile. "Well, would you look at that."

I tried to follow his gaze. "What is it?"

"Another scale," he held up the flat disc that he'd been holding. Luke stalked past me to the bike, kicking it in action. The snarls of the machine ripped through the peaceful morning. "Looks like we have our trail of bread crumbs."

I'm a bad, bad author *smack on the wrist*

Please forgive me for being so laaazy?

You know...reading the amazing reviews you guys leave me with really kicks me into action, no joke. *hinty hint* ;)

xo